Ushering in a new year means many things: watching a giant glass ball drop on people counting backwards in Times Square, writing the wrong date on checks and such for two weeks and wiping the slate clean to embrace new beginnings.
These are all fine traditions, all mystical in their own special way, but my favorite part of ridding myself of December is getting a new calendar. Just think of the all things you get and discard within a year. You go through clothes, office supplies, siginificant others, but the calendar will, without fail, stay with you from January to December.
It's so hard to find good calendars, and that's bizarre because there are so many out there. I can never quickly decide which calendar I am going to share my year with. That's a huge commitment to make--we're talking 365 days of your life--if you are not going to look upon this piece fondly.
Even with the care I take to find the perfect calendar to guide me through the eyar, our journey rarely ends in Calendar Utopia. When December comes to a close and you're laying out your resolutions, instead of sending your calendar to meet its make like Christmas's crumpled wrapping paper--take the calendar from its perch and find a proper new home for it.
Just think, Calendar Utopia, keeping the grid of dates from 2005 or even 2002. It nolonger serves any practical purpose, but to discard it would be a great injustice. I have only reached this state of being, with the Green and Gold Hardbody calendar. Ahhhhh....yes, that was a keeper.
The calendar is a gift that keeps giving. Each month brings a new visual masterpiece to feast upon. My greatest disappointment is when I turn to May 1 and there is a less than satisfactory habitat for my birthday.
