A couple of weeks ago, when Ross was busy sunning himself in Miami and I had some folks over for lunch to take away the pain and jealousy, we got to talking about the new year. I believe I said something brilliant, such as, “Since I’m turning 30 in February, I’ve decided that next year is going to be my year.” When pressed as to the precise nature of this resolution, my response was the extremely illuminating, “Well, I’m going to do all the things I want to do, and none of the things I don’t want to do!” Then I read Sarah’s “vague plans for 2009,” and realized that if those plans qualified as vague, mine were as woolly as a hillside in New Zealand.

Which is all right; I like wool. And though I’m a planner, I’ve grown wary of announcing my plans. Instead of increasing my sense of personal accountability, public announcements only increase my sense of personal embarrassment when after eight lackadaisical months I no longer mention them at all.

But I am quite resolved about the doing all the things I want to do and none of the things I don’t want to do thing. And that is why, at 2:17pm yesterday afternoon, after having thought about it for precisely 20 minutes, I convinced Ross (it wasn’t hard) that we should book ourselves on a trip to Prague for six days in March, during his spring break. Because exploring Kafka’s home, crossing bridges in the place they call the golden city of one hundred spires, and learning how to say “Two beers, please,” in Czech, are absolutely, positively, without a doubt, things I want to do.

So that’s how I began 2009. And believe me, it’s how I mean to go on.