Gooooooooooooooal!

Happy New Year from the clatter kitchen! I hope your clothes are literally bursting at the seams from your guilt-free holiday overindulgences. Now get thee to a gym to wrestle someone for the last treadmill! On second thought, don’t. I insist you continue to sit on your caboose – at least until you finish reading this post.

So, 2011 has arrived at last. Now that we're already in the fifth day of it, I think I may be getting into the swing of signing documents with the 11. Maybe it’s just me, but something about the double 1 exudes so much more power than a 1 and 0, doesn't it? (If I was a nerd, I’d make a joke here about the binary numeral system. If I wasn't a nerd, I wouldn't have even thought of that.) I’m taking the numbers as a sign that big things are going to happen this year.

Well, did you make any new year’s resolutions? The way I see it, the word resolution alone begs for a premature death and utter failure of anything following it. I much prefer the word 'goal'. It doesn’t feel so final, and if you make your goal a little too lofty, it's not that you broke it necessarily, you just didn't reach it. I for one have plenty of goals for 2011, including but not limited to traveling out of the country, taking sailing lessons, and reducing my number of blind dates to a single digit. Maybe I have too many goals on my list to reach them all (I’m really pulling for the latter), but I still love how a new calendar year gives me a blank canvas, as if I can fill it with anything the world throws at me and find success in anything I try. Since my optimism (or delusional state?) for the year often peaks in the month of January - I predict it will plummet soon after I turn 29 on the 29th - I best be riding this high while it lasts. And speaking of predictions, according to the psychic I heard on a radio show this morning, George Clooney will be getting hitched this year. Should these nuptials indeed take place, I might cry - I’ve really been holding out for ol’ George. I do hope, however, that we can still find a way to be friends, because I’d like to use his Lake Como villa next time I'm in Italy. I’m sure his future wife won't mind.

While many folks have resolved to eating less and exercising more in the new year, let's be honest, that's not really in the cards for clatter. In addition to my notions of greatness outside the kitchen, I also have big plans to take my culinary edification and cooking finesse to new heights this year. Do you feel the unveiling of some grandiose 2011 clatter challenge on the horizon? Me too.

BUT! Not just yet.

Since I have not yet completed the first leg of my new adventure, I want to leave you on the edge of your seat until I do. That’s just mean of me, isn't it? Alright, fine, here's a hint: the challenge is a delicious fusion of an under-utilized comparative literature degree, time traveling, and The New York Times. Intrigued much? Me too. I can't wait to see if/when/how I'm going to pull this one off.