Goals. (I hate you people).

I'm drinking sweet champagne
Got the headphones up high
Can't numb you out
Can't drum you out of my mind

Seriously. I'm busy drowning you out with Nazareth. Go away.

My talents are plasterwork and pole dancing. I can cook for lots of people and I'm neat and organized. But apparently that's not enough and I'm supposed to work towards growing, improving and...where are you going? Come back.

I'll share a few of my goals for the year with you. Not all of them, just the things I want you to see, as always. There is always more. That seems to be my motto the past few years when it comes to writing here. I won't write for money, or for parenting columns or adult websites. I won't write for the masses as much as I write for the individual. The same could be said for goals. They're unique to each person.

I want to bring the grocery budget back into this stratosphere. I can cook from scratch but I tend to half and half it most of the time. More carefully meal planning versus 'stock everything and see what everyone wants' would go far to make it easier.

I want to save more before spending more. Pay myself first instead of treat myself first. It's easy to live in the Now or Never when you've won and lost a few times. Trust me on that one.

I want to be braver with things I'm not brave with. Trip planning, heights. The dark. My car. Making a mess. Living on the edge instead of trying to nail down every last contingency until I have a perfect row and a shitload of wasted energy.

I want to sleep more. Like my mirror says, I'm a light sleeper and a heavy dreamer. I'm sure it's related to the sleep apnea/narcolepsy/brain tumor thing but a few unbroken nights would be a godsend.

I want to shop for a house like a princess, by making a list of everything I want, and then putting a star by everything that is non-negotiable. I have never done that. I take what I am given or what I find on the first go because of fear that if I pass and it was good enough God will smite somewhere further down along the line.

I want to stop building character and give some away.

I want to make lists and be excited and inspired again instead of simply pushing uphill against the wind.

I want to wear more black. (that's a joke. I wear black and little else).

I want dreadlocks but I wouldn't actually do that.

I want to spend an entire day in my pajamas with a Snoopy book and a plate of peanut brittle.

Okay, now it's just getting silly. But you get my drift. I don't know how lofty my goals as a whole or whether or not I'll get to accomplish any of them in reality but the grind of working to live versus living to work is a fine balance for anyone and I defy you to say you've got life all figured out. No one does. Okay, a few people do, but they aren't really useful in that this is something that we have to figure out for myself (har).

And I will, probably three days before I die of a brain tumor at the age of 98.

Back to plastering and pole dancing. Which really is every bit as spectacular and entertaining as you can imagine. Just ask the dog. He's getting quite a show.