A good goal for 2019

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, because I don’t like making promises I may not keep.

However, as resolutions go, this is a pretty good one.

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When your drinking games or babies can’t be ordinary

I am drawn to odd, silly things.

It’s half the reason why my blog has its name — the other half being as a tribute to my late cat Silly — and why some previous writing iteration said its purpose was to “document life’s weirdness” or something like that.

Which is why I was pulled to a Prosecco Pong game yesterday … even though I don’t drink … in a shoe store.

Because sometimes you have to keep your drinking games classy.

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Empty buildings full of stories

On our Christmas travels through the Berkshire Mountains, to my parents’ house in upstate New York and back home to a Boston suburb, we passed several vacant, abandoned businesses.

They were in various states of disrepair. Some had signs as a reminder of what they had been. Others had signs that they were for sale or lease, the past or present hope that a future was still possible.

Some had neither, and some had both.

And all of them were a good idea, at some time, to somebody.

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A crazy Christmas gift for a boring person

Who doesn’t love Christmas ugly-sweater parties?

Me, that’s who.

I have nothing against people who do love them, but what most people see as “fun, silly activity with family and friends,” I see as “way for me to choose to look ridiculous when I can pretty much do that living my life.”

I don’t like dancing for pretty much the same reason.

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You cannot wrap Christmas gifts worse than me

I think I’m pretty good at a lot of things, but there are some things I am really bad at.

Worst New York State high school basketball player in 1988 to 1990? — It’s a short list, but I’m on it.

I’m horrible at building things, or fixing them.

Driving directions are lost on me.

And I am the absolute worst at wrapping presents.

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Where did Christmas come from?

Hard as it is to believe, but it feels like Christmas has actually sneaked up on us.

Because Thanksgiving was so early this year, it still seemed early to turn one’s attention to Christmas.

After all, it was still more than a month away.

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The game is the same

The bowling alleys of my youth were — not dingy, that implies lack of cleanliness — but they were plain.

The colors were muted, the lighting basic. The pins were white, except during promotions where a blue pin was mixed in. Get a strike with a blue headpin, you win a free game.

Basically, they were someplace you went to … bowl.

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A good hot turkey sandwich is diner perfection

I try very hard — and perhaps even succeed sometimes — not to be a snob about too many things.

But one of the things I readily acknowledge being a snob about is diners.

When you grow up in a small town in upstate New York, you learn to appreciate a proper diner. I even worked in one in high school, making money for insurance on my first car.

The best ones have regulars, preferably ones who always seem to be there at the same time and always sit together, without ever planning it.

The staff and customers know each other by name, and — this is important — customers should be able to refill their own coffee, no questions asked.

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