Resolved

Last night some friends discussed the notion of new year's resolutions. "Practice courage every day," says our resident positive thinker. "Make no resolutions--you never keep them and then you just beat yourself up for a year," says our resident pessimist, who makes a mean coconut cake. "Grow. Change," says the stranger from Paris, who apparently has been watching milk commercials as inflight entertainment. "Get new friends," glowers the redneck, "and hopefully they'll know to shut the hell up when there's a hockey game on, you idiots." "Let the cat eat eggrolls whenever he wants." "Throw out the archaeologically significant underwear." "Don't let anyone keep me from listening to a-ha." "Join the Barry Manilow fan club." "Try to stay married." "Find a more satisfying method of birth control." "Remember to floss." "Throw out the Hallowe'en pumpkin before next Hallowe'en." "Vote Green." "Find my soul mate." "Find another soul mate." "Dust the chandelier." "Clean my kid's ears." "Stop hiding Twizzlers in my sock drawer." "Recharge the phone batteries." "Call Howie McEachern and tell him I always loved him." "Learn to make fudge."

And there you have it: a snapshot of the hopes, dreams and aspirations of an average bunch of middle-aged Canadians at the end of 2005.