It’s been a few days now since I resolved to cut out carbs, tithe with my own money, exercise, tell the truth at all times, and learn how to make turkey dressing.

My fourth resolution, unfortunately, requires me to confess that my treadmill has already taken on last year’s function as a clothes hanger.

Because my past record in resolution making really stinks I resolved last night to gather up all my old resolution lists and strike off every resolution I’ve failed to keep over the years and leave the ones that I can realistically expect to fulfill.

I have two left.

So I am presently making up a new list including the aforementioned ‘tithe with my own money.’ The others will have to go.

In other words, I am sort of dumbing down my list like the Department of Education has done the last ten years so I can keep my selfesteem in tact.

So, here goes:

1. I hereby resolve to discontinue using my Tahoe as the county landfill. All the petrified French fries, bags of leaking powdered sugar, used dental floss, old receipts, missing socks, stray nuts and bolts, crumpled coke cups, stray pennies, and unidentifiable bits of food will end up in the trash. Any paper money found or unopened boxes of donuts will be given to good will. (I already told you I lied)

2. I will never again wash my cheap Wal-Mart blood red pajamas with my hubby’s boxers. Even though, for those of you with husbands who have a little hound dog in them, I’d bet being forced to wear pink boxers is a pretty good way to scare off any bit….er, female dogs that might be hanging around your yard.

3. I will get up, shower, dress, and put on makeup every day whether I need to or not. I’ve long had a fear that I might die in faded jammies, my hair looking like it’s been in a blender, and my panties displaying, God forbid and Mama forgive me, a gaping hole. And just in case I oversleep and die in bed, my cousin the undertaker, has specific instructions to do whatever he can to make me look purty, and that includes rolling my stiff self in for a quick shampoo and set at Rick’s.

4. I will take the clothes out of the washer and have them in the dryer within 48 hours, at least. Towels that smell like wet gym socks are not very appealing and it’s no telling how many I’ve thrown away. And no, dear hearts, Clorox can’t clean everything.

5. I will throw away all my Home Life magazines that I have been saving since 1957. Alas, they have become passé and the tips that kept me a princess in my own home no longer apply.

6. I resolve in 2010 to buy all my pants three sizes too big. This way, no matter how many boiled peanuts I eat I can still tell all my friends that all “my pants just swallow me whole!” Takes the guilt right out of all that dieting stuff. Bite me, Weight Watchers.

7. I will stop eating veal. As I’m not entirely sure if I’ve ever eaten any before, I see no foreseeable problems here.

8. I will save money. I’ve always promised hubby I’d do that. So, as long as my men folk drop pockets full of change in the little bowl by the phone, I’ll have enough by next Christmas to buy…well, something. It’s the thought that counts, you know.

9. I will assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone else’s fault.

10. I will no longer waste my time reliving the past; I will spend it worrying and obsessing about the future.

11. Instead of vowing that I will lose 25 pounds by June, I will promise never to wear pants without an elastic waist.

12.I promise never to litter. As long as there is another car behind me.

13. I promise to hug and kiss more and say ‘I love you‘ more often. So be forewarned: I am not “that way” but that will be my own little contribution to achieving world peace. That, and keeping my mouth shut in Sunday School.

14. I will not bore clubs anymore with the same excuses for not helping with membership drives. I will think up new ones.

15. I will finally balance my checkbook (on my nose).

16. I will learn Morse code. - … — — There, that was easy. Now, they don’t have to be in any order, do they?

17. It’s my duty to write this column but I will resolve to, just for today, not sit here in my bedroom in my nightgown on the computer all day. I will move the computer to the den.

18. I will never say another word about the Christmas Parade not having enough music. Next year I will bring a microphone and sing myself. (If that doesn’t get ‘em motivated, nothing will.)

19. I will never repeat gossip. So you’d better listen closely the first time.

20. I resolve to always end this column with a cheerful sign off.

Happy Cheerful New Year, dear hearts. Ya know I love ya more’n my peanuts