When I was younger, I would make my new years resolution way in advance, and it was always the same:


Then, inevitably, a few days (ok, in some cases, a few hours) would go by and we’d be at a place that served Tater Tots (YUM, The Vortex) and I’d justify the consumption of other fried potato products as a separate entity entirely. And thus the slippery slope would begin and, without fail, I was back to loving those fried spuds with gusto before Black History month rolled around.

So I then tweaked my resolution to give UP giving up French Fries. I’ve been far more successful at that one. And even though habits die hard, I think it’s time to move on and make some real, life changing resolutions this year. And so the story begins.

I recently bought a small Moleskine notebook (you know, the famous, pricey ones used by Hemingway and all those other famous people?) to replace the barely-used one that was in my purse that got stolen.  I’ve decided that I’m not only neglecting my REAL writing, I’m also not journaling in any sort of consistent manner (read: three times in this past year all ending in "I’ll write more tomorrow, am too tired" and then six months passes.) In an effort to make this less sporadic and more experiential, I’ve been taking it with me in my Big Honkin’ Bag(TM) – aka, my fabulous purse – and writing when the inspiration hits. Or even when it doesn’t. Because somewhere in my ramblings may be something of substance (THAT, and it saves you from hearing ALL the sordid details of my drama-filled life.) Anyway, I used it while I was traveling to and from Seattle to just jot down some of the random thoughts I’ve had and in re-reading what I had written, certain things jumped out at me. Certain things that were very similar to what my nearest and dearest have repeated, over and over again, meaning that I pretty much agree with their sentiments and yet there’s still something that’s stopping me from acting on them. Apologies for being this vague, but suffice it to say that I think I’m getting close to finally taking my own advice. And it’s LONG overdue.

So while we’re up in Seattle for the AMAZING party and (unofficial) opening of McLeod Residence (more on that later), Buster and Lele put out this ceramic bunny and had people write fortunes to put in it. I , of course, represented the more "colorful" fortunes , though threw in a few more serious ones for good nature as well. (I mean, what if EVERYONE got the one that asked them to take off their pants?!?) So, I chose one on NYE night and received "You will kiss a wonderful stranger" (which I’d take a picture of the fortune if my camera wasn’t broken from fulfilling the prophecy of the aforementioned fortune). Anyway, fitting. Thanks, Universe. So far, 1 for 1.

The day after – still in my beauteous party dress, natch – I headed back to McLeod Residence to go pick up my Polaroid that I couldn’t find before leaving the night before, and after turning off all of the lights and getting ready to head downstairs, I noticed the porcelain bunny from across the room and, on a whim, decided to choose another fortune. Shuffling my hand around in the ceramic innards of the rabbit, I chose and to my amazement, the universe had done it again. The card read:


The sentiments weren’t even the most astounding part; it was who wrote it. I know that handwriting, know that drama that’s being referred to, have LIVED that drama. So yes. I think it’s due time to start listening to my friends, start listening to myself, and – apparently – start listening to the universe since somehow, out of hundreds of fortunes, I chose the one I needed the most.

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