I haven't made a New Year's Resolution since I caved under co-worker pressure when I was 16 and working full time supporting an apartment of my own. I had quit high school and moved out, shared an apartment with an older woman (older than me which wasn't saying much at the time). The women where I worked (the even older ones, those who I think were kind of nasty to me when I see it from the perspective of an older woman) pressured me into making New Year's Resolutions.

It had never been a big deal with my family. We had our First Footing thing where the person with dark hair was the first caller of the New Year and had a drink with everyone, being welcomed into the home. Since I was the only dark haired kid in the family I got to be the First Footer most years.

Anyway, I don't remember what resolutions I made that year. I just know I broke them all within the month and I felt really bad. I almost never break my promises, to anyone. I no longer let myself give them away so easily either. Age brings wisdom as well as grey hairs, whiskers and well, that's enough information.

So for 2006 I will make the following resolutions, for no good reason, with no real promise to fulfill any one of them.

1). I will buy a better pair of tweezers for those really aggravating chin whiskers. I can feel one, freshly grown. Why is it you can really only see them while looking in the car mirror. I don't know how many times I've pretended not to notice someone catching me plucking my chinny chin chin. Twice I pretended to pick my nose just to add to the show.

2). I will make more ASCII art, pixel art and make use of the digital camera. Things I wanted to do anyway, so there. I did take the digital camera out for a spin today. I took pictures of the row of snow covered pine trees in the backyard. But I think the battery has a problem cause the camera kept trying to shut itself down before I could click to take the picture.

3). I will date a pirate of some kind. Any guy wearing an eyepatch will do. I've always had a thing for eye patches, they look so dangerous and mysterious. I don't go in for the whole 'bad boy' thing, just the illusion and the eye patch of course.

4). I will create a web comic. I made a sketch today, I just have to learn to draw now and I'll be all set.

5). I will finish learning CSS. I'm reading Web Design Garage and have gone past the point of no return. (That's so much more interesting than saying I'm more than halfway through the book).

6). I will conquer the blasted sewing machine. I will also re-remember how to crochet granny squares.

7). I will take a completely pointless and unplanned road trip. Probably to the Kincardine area again. I found the perfect beach in the middle of nowhere. All pebbly and those sparse looking beach trees and water, lots of clear water you can walk into without stepping on too many shells. I will have a cottage cheese picnic there again and build my sandcastle, again.

8). I will accomplish more of the things I want to do.

9). There is nothing else, just checking to see who fell asleep.

Note: You'll be delighted (no doubt) to know I pulled out that whisker with my fingers just now. Doesn't it seem odd that men lose hair while women gain it? I'm sure it's part of some devious plot.

How far would you go for $100 an hour? Would you sell yourself for an hour? Would you commit a crime? Would you... ?

Would you let a man fondle and play with your breasts in exchange for money? Assuming you are female and have breasts.

What do you think about a guy who would pay for that, $100 an hour.

What do you think about a woman who would consent to that.

I have no answers, just the possibility of $100 an hour.

I think my brother would be really upset, should he ever find out. I think my Mother wouldn't be crazy about it, but she might understand.

Am I a total sleazebag? I've been a nice girl all my life. I never slept around before, during or after my marriage. What does it matter? I'm 41 now, no shy, blushing virgin.

Sometimes men, with their need for a fuck (not sex and certainly not making love) make me sick. I hate them in ways. Reading the Craiglist posts for the Toronto list, all the personals from men are geared to sex. Even the few that mention more have to add sex or the emphasis on the way she looks rather than the person she is. In reality do they really want more than a blow up doll, I think not.

So, when I need money and I really don't expect I will find another man to have around in my life, why not get $100 an hour? If I can stand to be touched, if I can reserve everything in my mind and just be a blow up doll, why not do it?

The only problem I can see is just being too grossed out to follow through with it. I am about as virginal as 41 years old woman is likely to be. Maybe I'm a bit prudish just from a lack of experience, having only had sex with the man I was married to. One boyfriend after the divorce but no sex. My life is too crazy to be real.

At what hour is Christmas over? I have no idea. It's over for me. Kind of that deflated feeling, not quite as strong as getting out of bed in the morning and realizing the world has ended, civilization is gone and you're the last one left. (It's a fetish of mine, someday I'd like to test it out).

My nephew slept for about two hours last night, maybe. There were a bunch of adults yapping downstairs, a few drinks, a lot of really dumb stories exchanged and remembered. Isin't it weird to be the adults? I still think about that. Kind of "wow, how did I get here?" My brother and sisters (4 of us) outnumbered the dates and inlaws so most of the stories were ours. I've been the inlaw before though, sort of stuck in the middle of someone else's stories and traditions. Actually, it was nice not to be the odd one out for a short time.

I think we were a bit loud for Zack. He says he did fall asleep for awhile then. But, he came downstairs twice to check on the progress of Santa. I had told him about the Norad website and Santa was on his mind. It's just this year (at the age of 10) that he is beginning to consider that Santa might not be real, he isn't sure though, so he kept checking the web for the radar progress. Last time he asked me if Santa was real (when he was seven) I told him I believed in Christmas spirit and Santa was part of that. So he was good to go for awhile. This year his friends at school must be wearing off on him a bit more. Ten is old enough to shrug off Santa, but I hope he keeps something of it, the merry feeling and the faith.

In the morning the little girl, Roxanne, woke everyone up, not too early. I remember being up at 4:00 when we were kids, they had a late start getting up at 7:00, kids today!

Everyone is tired today, even Zack admitted he's tired. I drove home in the afternoon and was beginning to fall asleep at the wheel along the way. No coffee stops open though I did find a gas station that didn't require plastic only. I might have managed on fumes but I hate driving and worrying about the gas tank, there are enough other things to worry about with the car. Today it did pretty good, the weather was very wet, foggy and mild. A colder day would have been tougher. Last winter my brakes kept freezing. There's nothing like driving a long and realizing that odd light on the dash is talking about your brakes and the fact that you might not have any. lol Brakes are such a nice feature on a car, I'll be sure to request them on any future car I buy.

So, now I'm here. Christmas is done and it feels kind of deflated. But, tomorrow is Boxing Day. I'm thinking like Scarlet O'Hara, though I'm not going anywhere near a store till next week. :) I had my chocolate fix on Christmas Eve and again this morning. I also had my bacon and eggs fix too. Why does bacon smell so divine while cooking but never that great to actually eat?

It's a bit silly but I'm a bit disappointed with my family about Christmas, it's the same each year for uncountable years. But, I brought down something for almost everyone. I skipped my brother as I made the apron for his girlfriend (on top of what I already had for her). Anyway, out of the six people there, only Graham's girlfriend gave me anything for Christmas. It's kind of petty and I shouldn't care but I do, a little. It's not the reason why I give out presents myself.

If that were the case I'd long ago have stopped. They haven't done a gift exchange since we were kids and even then they were not really interested in giving, more in getting. Still, I keep giving out presents cause it's who I am and I enjoy having something special for everyone. It matters enough to me to keep doing it even though I feel kind of left out when I get nothing in return. I think they just don't care. Only Sherry really seemed to enjoy the apron and coffee set I gave her. My sisters said thanks and put their gift aside, out of the way. Anyway, that's why I never go out and rob the bank to pay for Christmas, there isn't any point. I give gifts for my enjoyment, I don't worry about meeting expectations of dollars spent or getting the perfect gift. I do it for me and likely I will keep doing it just the same, always till I'm dried up and gone. :)

For someone to be willing to die in order to kill other people (other women's sons, brothers, husbands and fathers) is crazy. Whoever wrote this is no better than the suicide bombers who bomb hotels, airports, and Trade Centres.

Don't they understand those are people too? There are angry women over there too. Just cause they think differently, dress differently and worship differently doesn't mean they are wrong. They don't need to be bombed, obliterated or attacked. It really peeves me when people are so ignorant and intolerant.

for all the angry women out there... Source Unknown

Take all American women who are within five years of menopause - train us for a few weeks, outfit us with automatic weapons, grenades, gas masks, moisturizer with SPF15, Prozac, hormones, chocolate, and canned tuna - drop us (parachuted, preferably) across the landscape of Afghanistan, and let us do what comes naturally.

Think about it. Our anger quotient alone, even when doing standard stuff like grocery shopping and paying bills, is formidable enough to make even armed men in turbans tremble.

We've had our children, we would gladly suffer or die to protect them and their future. We'd like to get away from our husbands, if they haven't left already.

And for those of us who are single, the prospect of finding a good man with whom to share life is about as likely as being struck by lightning. We have nothing to lose.

We've survived the water diet, the protein diet, the carbohydrate diet, and the grapefruit diet in gyms and saunas across America and never lost a pound. We can easily survive months in the hostile terrain of Afghanistan with no food at all!

We've spent years tracking down our husbands or lovers in bars, hardware stores, or sporting events...finding bin Laden in some cave will be no problem.

Uniting all the warring tribes of Afghanistan in a new government? Oh, please ... we've planned the seating arrangements for in-laws and extended families at Thanksgiving dinners for years ... we understand tribal warfare.

Between us, we've divorced enough husbands to know every trick there is for how they hide, launder, or cover up bank accounts and money sources. We know how to find that money and we know how to seize it ... with or without the government's help!

Let us go and fight. The Taliban hates women. Imagine their terror as we crawl like ants with hot-flashes over their godforsaken terrain.

I'll tell you a secret. The only other person on the planet who knows about any of this is of course, Keanu Reeves, cause he was there.

Today while I was waiting for the coffee water to boil, Keanu dropped by. He finally read that series of erotic stories I wrote about him and he just wanted to verify a few things. He was amazed that I knew him so well, his likes and his need to be tied up and kidnapped by a strange (fellow Canadian) woman. (Just in case you wanted to know, Keanu and I were born in the same year, though he's older, don't rub it in and make him feel bad).

So, Keanu invited me to attend the next Oscar bash with him down there in the US. I said I don't have anything to wear, though I have an idea for a really great dress. I'd have to starve a few months to be Hollywood thin and there's a good chance I'd die before getting skeletal enough, but... it's a date with Keanu.

I created my dress, while waiting for that watched pot to boil. It was long, slinky and red, with a print of dragon scales. It would be backless so I could show off the huge dragon tattoo across my back and along my arms. Not one of those gaudy things, just something creative and discreet, yet somewhat shocking. Keanu loved my sketch.

But, he had to leave before the coffee was ready. Too bad, it was a Christmas blend, very good.