A Very Happy New Year. . . (Patricia Potter)

I love Christmas, and I love the ending of Christmas. It’s the end of Yule madness, of fighting the mobs, of trying to find the right meaningful present, of trying to please people, of often having unrealistic expectations, of always having something else to do: another batch of pecans, another present I forgot. Even then, with a large extended family I always fear I am going to forget someone.

I love the madness but I am always relieved when it is over, and I can get back to my book, to the work I love, to the normalcy of my life. And I love looking forward to the next year. A fresh start. To remedy the mistakes I made the last year. To get organized (faint hope, there).

I mentioned in my last blog about Mrs. Jeffers, the eighties-something neighbor in my last book who had a list of everything she wanted to do in the remaining years of her life. She didn’t want to miss anything, whether it was the random act of kindness, or an encounter of a strange sort, or an adventure that would daunt a much younger person.

I’ve been thinking a lot about her. Maybe that’s why she became such an unexpectedly important part of that book. There was a longing in me to be like her, to seize every moment of life.

As a result I started my own list of things to do. Some are minor, guilty pleasures. Go to the zoo. We have a great zoo in Memphis, but I’ve never found the time to go. It’s number two on my list after the Rose Parade.

No. 3. There’s an organization called BestFriends (you can find it on the web) that is probably the most comprehensive of all animal rescue groups. They rescued thousands of cats and dogs and other critters after Katrina, and I’ve become a devoted member. They do incredible work for animals, including a massive rescue of a thousand rabbits that were abandoned. No animal is too small or too old or too sick for them. They have a great facility I want to visit, volunteer for several weeks and to set a book there.

4. See more of my friends. I’m not going to let go of a single one of them. They are far too precious to me. My list includes at least a monthly contact.

5. Take shooting lessons. Not because I want to shoot anyone (well, at least not at the moment) but because I want to know how it feels, smells, sounds. I feel I’m cheating my readers if I don’t have that experience.

6. Become a secret Santa next year. I read an article about a secret Santa in, I believe, Kansas City, who every Christmas would search laundromat, Salvation Army stores, and mobile home parks for someone who really could use extra money and handed them several hundred dollars.What a wonderful thing if all of us could become Secret Santas next year.

7. Go to a movie. (It’s been a long, long time.)

8. Go on a photo safari in Africa.

I could go on. But I’m making my list a combination of the likely, the possible and the dream. Enough to keep it alive and vital.

I challenge all of you to make your list, of small things, and large, of the possible and the dreams. You never know, like Mrs. Jeffers, when they may come true.

P.S. from StoryBroads--Here's a wonderful cartoon that captures the spirit of this post: http://www.glasbergen.com/images/k233.gif