Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Write dribs 'n drabs while waiting for  spinning wheels on the computer screen. Read  books instead of reading dribs 'n drabs of advertisements. Write books instead of book reviews (I will catch up but the review list is longer than the year). Enter contests to get published instead of contests to win free reads. Clean up my inbox, even if it does mean unsubscribing from interesting emails. Clean up my outbox by replying to emails faster, which means Read more emails on the computer instead of on the phone. That'll do for a start. Besides, 7's a very good number, and I never make new year resolutions anyway.

I resolved to be good each new year, marking my diary for every day I succeeded, then giving up when the diary remained pristinely unblemished.

Recycling goes in the yellow bin. Recycled dreams turn yellow with age, like sepia photographs bent in brittle frames. Recycled hopes are yellow-green where envy’s weeds seep in. Recycling goes in the yellow bin, but New Year promises smell sweet. Don’t have to recycle. Repeated resolutions are good to keep.

“You must be psychic, Kat.” Her mother answered the phone. “Why?” “Well, how could you know I was thinking of you?” “Aren’t you always?” Kat asked lightly. “Admit it Mum.” “Nearly always. That’s true.” “So, what were you thinking?” Slow words into silence. “You needed to talk.” “Don’t I always?” Quick words into thought. “Nearly always. That’s true.” “Let’s keep in touch better,” said Kat, forgetting what she’d called to ask. Her mother laughed. “Let’s call each more often than every blue moon?” “Try white moons.” “Silver.” “And slivers of moon, all the time.” “Nearly always.” And better than true.

Alicia-May banished her husband to the garage one day. Dark engine parts in the kitchen sink had torn their marriage apart, and broken her heart. Amicable separation ensued for a while, till kitchen implements began to disappear, causing Alicia to beg her erstwhile spouse to investigate. Two mixing bowls, a wooden spoon, three saucepans and a box of tableware being found on the garage workbench, Alicia-May was banished back to the kitchen. Combining New Year’s resolutions then, the couple removed the wall between garage and house. Now sink and bench live happily together, as do Alicia-May and her wonderful spouse.

“Mom, what’s revolutions?” “It’s like when a wheel turns around.” “No, that’s not it. Dad, what’s revolutions?” “It’s like when part of a country goes to war.” “That’s not it either. Grandma, what’s revolutions?” “It’s a Beatles record.” “What beetles? What’s a record? I don’t like insects.” Big sister knew enough to ask what sort of revolutions. “Like what everyone’s talking about new years?” “New Year resolutions ?” asked Big Sister. Little Brother said “Yeah.” “Resolutions, they’re like promises to yourself,” said Mom. “Like things you really want to do,” said Dad. And Grandma sang, “She loves you yeah, yeah, yeah.”