by Brian Norwood

Created on: January 13, 2009   Last Updated: February 01, 2009

New Year, Again?

My life would be a lot easier if I just didn't have to live with myself. It's not that we don't get along. I seldom fight with myself except when I'm trying to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. I even laugh at my own jokes but that's mostly so I don't get lonely. Truth is, so long as I don't look at myself in the mirror while shaving, then me, myself and I, get along quite well. The problem comes every new year when I decide to make a weird new year resolution.

Of course I realize setting a New Years Resolution is not weird. In fact making theses resolutions at this time of year has become the norm, one could even say they have become a kind of tradition. Like gift giving at Christmas, not a requirement but then again it wouldn't really be Christmas without a few gifts under the tree, would it? No, the weird part is not that I make a New Year resolution, the weird part is I always keep them.

Every New Year I select an activity I have never done before. Something I think will broaden my horizons, challenge my skills and abilities, or in the case of 2002 the year I took up welding, teach me that I have absolutely no skill or ability of any kind. No matter the outcome of each of my annual adventures the very next January I once again put on my optimist cap and venture forth into yet another realm of the unknown.

One year I decided to learn how to knit. I am a pretty good book learner but some things you just can't learn from a book. No matter how slow I would read or how hard I studied the pictures. I still couldn't figure out the basics of how to knit. I needed a tutor but knitting is a dying art and trying to find a knitting instructor who hasn't already died proved to be a challenge.

I asked myself; who knits these days. Little old ladies knit, that's who. Where can I find these little old ladies? I started hanging out at the local senior centre, and trust me that caused a few rumors to circulate in my small town.

When I met Mabel she was in her seventies and pushing a two wheeler with the reckless abandonment of a twelve year old skate boarder. She should have been working for Microsoft teaching the basics of multitasking. Mabel could knit, play five bingo cards, watch TV and gossip with two of her friends at the same time.

The demand from seventy years of life had taken a toll on her body but had done nothing to dampen the twinkle in her eye or the love she held for life. Besides being a knitter of renown, Mabel was also a great kidder and delivered

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