When I was younger, I made resolutions like the rest. Lose weight. Don’t bite my nails. Improve my posture. Quit smoking. That kind. And I’d be planning it a month or more ahead of time. So the net result was an increase in the behavior for two months, because I was about to quit, then quitting for a few days…and then going right back to normal. I’m going to quit smoking soon anyway, so I can smoke more now. I’m going to start doing situps next month, so it’s fine if I lie around doing nothing this week. Yeah? And then you try and fail and your year is off to the same old start. Damn, fucked it up again. Maybe next year.

Well, about ten years ago or so, I made a resolution that really stuck. I made the kind of once-in-a-lifetime resolution you look back on for the rest of your life, and say “Wow, why didn’t I do that a lot sooner?” Are you ready for it?

I resolved not to make resolutions I wouldn’t keep ever again. That was the resolution. And I made it work: I have kept every resolution I have made since. And it’s been easy, because I resolve to do fun things.

The first year following that decision, my resolution was to “eat more watermelon.” That was not hard to do, because I had eaten almost none the year prior, despite the fact that I love it. I always just decided it was too expensive or messy or something. But I was resolute. I ate a lot of watermelon that year. The next year, I resolved to “drink more whiskey.” Again, easy to do. I had not been drinking whiskey at all, so even just one glass of whiskey saw me a winner. (I had more than one, of course. Just sayin’.)

In the years after that, I resolved to “wear more nail polish,” “eat more cherries,” “wear more jewelry,” and “bake more pies,” among other things. Last year, I said I would “eat more Brussels sprouts.” I did. That one I didn’t enjoy as much, though, so this year I’m having one I like much better. I vow, in the coming year, I will “bake more cupcakes.”

I will. And I just bet I’ll take some pictures of the experience and post them on these pages triumphantly: Here is Cass in the year of the cupcake, holding her frosting bag high in victory. She has attained perfect frosting. All hail. Three cheers.

Hats off to those of you who are resolving to eat fewer cupcakes.

I won’t send you any.