5 resolutions, 5 years

Just like China is kicking off its next Five-Year Plan (look it up) this year, I think it’s time to do my own five-year plan. Because the failure of not meeting my resolutions in 12 calendar months is too much of a pisser.

Ergo, between January 2011 and December 2015, I will:

1. Move to Key West.

I am done with cities and crazy people. I can walk to the damn airport there. I can drink all day and night and trade in my car for a moped. Sure, it’s about the same cost of living as West Palm Beach. But as the gal I met from Boca who now works in a clothing store on Duval Street, why pay the same to live in Palm Beach County when you could instead live out your days in the Keys?

2. Freelance, baby. All the way.

As I said in my last post, I think I want to do everything. And on my own time. I’m productive at night — therefore, I should not be slaving away during hours when I’m not the slightest bit awake. And let’s not forget that cafe/wine bar — my business, my hours, my dream. Not someone else’s.

I want to make six figures (goal: $125,000 a year to start) and I want to work five hours a day. Tops. Guess that means I have to write a book. A really good one. The universe keeps giving me the ideas — just need to put ’em on paper!

3. Get married.

This is a non-negotiable. I want the bling. Nobody loves rings more than I do. I’d prefer an emerald (my birthstone) but I *suppose* I can settle for a princess-cut diamond in white gold. Platinum preferred. It would be the only “good” thing I’ve ever owned in my life.

But alas, it’s not about the sparkle. Not of the jewels, anyway. It’s not that I’ve had it with dating. But, you know, it’s time to find a permanent travel partner. And having another income would make these unceremonious shitcannings more bearable, both financially AND emotionally. Can anyone support my mom if I get tossed onto the streets? Exactly. Point made.

4. Adopt.

Yep. You read it right. I am NOT biological-mother material. Translation: Cabernet flows through my veins, and it’s what I use to wash down the pills. Don’t expect me to subsist on pre-natal vitamins and hormones. You’d get the next serial killer in a hurry that way.

But … if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s lead/manage people. And I call my people my “kids.” But now that my kids have been taken away from me (for now), I realize I need one of my own to permanently screw up. Er, I mean, to make into a lovable liberal citizen like myself. 🙂

I used to think I wanted a boy. I have mad respect for mothers of (good) sons. I know I can do it. But there’s something about pigtails and tea parties and frilly pink things that catches my attention once in a while, too.

In any case, my years of working in the foster-care system showed me that there are plenty of kids who need someone to love them back. Give me one or two who are out of diapers, and I think I would be very happy.

5. Lose ** pounds.

OMG, I stepped on the scale today and it mooed at me. I’ve slapped on 32 pounds since arriving in this town two years ago. Please shoot me. Please.

Now, I need to lose more than 32, so let’s just use the number ** and call it a day here. I just canceled my Weight Watchers membership (due to disuse and, oh yeah, NO JOB). And I’m eating everything in sight with all the stress. But I’m hoping that once I figure out my next move, the next move after THAT will be to Sweet Tomatoes for a celebratory salad.

I hope all of this happens on the earlier end of the five-year span. But I won’t cut off my ponytail and hang myself with it if, at this time next year, I haven’t checked off all (or any) of these items.

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