Sandy Slaga

I tried covering my ears and singing “La La La La La” but I can still hear Crotchety Old Lady snarling at me to shake the dust out of my neurotransmitters and get with the Gotta Get Goals challenge.

Solo Dreamer tagged me, so of course I’ve spent considerable time checking out his goals as well as those of a few others I admire. Damn. My goals need some exercise.

Like Chuck Newton, I am not fond of goals. Correction. I’m not too fond of goals right now.

Age twenty-two was a fun time to have goals. Age fifty-one, not so much.

Newly married without kids. Fun time to have goals. Twenty-eight years married, seven years away from law with a son and daughter entering college. Hard to work up the same fun and excitement.

But.

The Crotchety One and her bony finger are poking, pointing and tsking. “Get over it, babycakes.”

If you’re looking for wild and crazy, look elsewhere.

These are my goals. And I’m only listing five. And I can do that, ’cause it said so in the rules.

1. To love myself just as I am, just for today. I considered adding a footnote for clarity, but it would be more accurately labeled an appendix, so I dropped it.

2. To have the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. This actually counts as three, right?

3. Live one day at a time. Or one hour at a time, as the situation warrants.

4. Continue to heal spiritually, emotionally and physically until it’s my turn on the mortuary marquee.

5. Live each day as the gift that it is.

Whew. Ok, Crotchety, now take the night off.