The year is almost over, my imaginary friends. Another spin around the calendar globe is about to be completed my invisible companions. Last year’s resolutions are the stuffing of history; the new year’s pledges are to be manifested after one last fruit bowl punch of gluttony and all American excess.
Soon we will regret the decisions of today, soon we will hang our heads in shame after blissfully enjoying all the rich and decadent foods that the holiday and winterizing spirit has to offer, soon we will dry our tongues of the wine and whiskey and rum spirits of celebration. The bubbles of excitement will fall flat, the burst of energy will fall silent. After the final shedding of the year, we clutch against winter and weight gain, we brace against the cruelty of the outside bitter world and the inside battle of diet.
Good luck pondering those forming resolutions, finding jubilee before storm, and just to be safe, be sure you go out with a particular bang.