"I miss our conversations!" Marilyn wrote to me.

I don't know Marilyn well, but I like her very much. "You want to get a coffee sometime after Christmas?" I asked.

Life starts to pick up and get moving again in early January. After hibernating in a cookie-induced coma for two full weeks, we've had a brief reprieve from normal. Now, with enough cookies consumed to keep us safe from a sudden cold snap and make the zipping of our trousers just a little more challenging -- now we are ready to face the world again.

And I am ready to make time for people. That is my goal. I've never had coffee with Marilyn, but I used to chat with her on my walks several times a week. Since she moved, though, I never see her. So I suggested coffee, and she thought that sounded like fun, and I wondered why I don't do more of that. I decided I would. And the new year is a good time to start.

I googled: "How long does it take to make a habit?" and the answer was "66 days."

At first, I was surprised it was that long. Then, as I thought about it, I was surprised it was that short. This says to me that it probably is a pretty accurate answer, because I always imagine that I'll form a new habit in two days, but if I'm still doing it two months later, then I figure it's a habit.

And making more time for people is a good habit for me to cultivate.

I have tried to foist my friendship on unwilling participants in the past. I've insisted that we have a lot in common, and I've kept in touch with no prompting and tried to be encouraging when no encouragement was requested. These have been long-distance relationships, conducted online, usually with other new writers. I would imagine the long-distance relationships enjoyed by writers in the past, swapping letters and having long and meaningful conversations over the years as they wrote and grew and changed.

None of this has come true for me.

Instead, I keep writing and writing with fewer and fewer replies, and I get the distinct impression that the person I'm writing to is filled with growing dread every time something lands in their inbox. They are not interested in sharing their journey. Maybe their journey isn't going the way they'd like. Maybe they've opted for a different journey altogether. Whatever the reason, they find my continued attention annoying. I finally realize that I am being a pest, and my feelings are hurt. I feel unwanted and embarrassed and a little lonely.

I think having coffee makes more sense.

It is better to see people face-to-face. It is better to ask them how they are doing and then quietly drink coffee and wait for their reply. For all the convenience of online communication, nothing can compete with a cup of coffee and a real talk. Because if someone is willing to take the time for a cup of coffee, I think it's a good sign they would like to be my friend.

And so this will be my new habit. Even if it takes time away from whatever I'm working on. Even if I have to drive someplace I have never been for coffee.

Instead of chasing friendship, I will meet people wherever they are. I will make the investment necessary to cultivate friendships with people who would like to be friends.

In 66 days, I'll let you know how it is going.

Till next time,

Carrie

Photos and other things can be found on Facebook at CarrieClassonAuthor.

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Yesterday I saw a friend, Bridget, whom I had not seen for a full year. "How have you been?" she asked.

"I have learned a lot about myself this year," I told her. But at the time it was hard to say just what I’d learned.

It's the time of year when we think of what we've learned in the year behind us and make resolutions for the new year. I try not to make New Year's resolutions. All the studies show that motivation wanes by February -- if we're lucky. Changing my life by flipping a switch on December 31st is not a feasible plan. I remind myself that it is the small changes that matter. It is the daily habits that add up. It is the incremental improvements I make every day and week that result in lasting change.

But not this year. This year, I'm making a New Year's resolution.

And the only reason I don't think I'm being foolish about the whole thing is that this year, I'm not making a resolution because I feel I've failed at something or need some kind of serious improvement. I'm making a resolution to do more of the same -- a lot more.

Because sometimes, as I sift through my life for the things I wish I did better, I miss what really matters. I forget how good my life is -- how strong my relationships are, how fortunate I am to have the friends and family I have, how lucky I am to have a mind that still works and a body that does what I need it to do.

This year, for whatever reason, I spent a lot more time doing things I truly enjoy, and I spent a lot less time beating myself up for not doing things I thought I should do.

I decided not to worry too much about what I ate and, instead, ate a lot of things I really love, and -- to my surprise -- I stayed exactly at the weight my body likes to be. I knew that writing brings me joy, and worrying about what will happen after I've written causes a lot of stress. So I let go. I worried less. And I discovered that worrying less left a lot more time for writing.

I spent more time with friends. I reached out more often. I said "yes" to invitations. I listened to my husband Peter's advice and, if I felt like sleeping in, I did. I talked to more dogs. I ate more cake. I listened to more music.

This year, I just got a little better at living in my own skin, at trusting myself, at letting myself enjoy what I was doing and spend more time doing it.

Since retiring, Bridget has taken up diving. She discovered she has a talent for taking beautiful photos of tiny fish that are seldom seen and almost never photographed. She loves it. She does it whenever she can. She hopes that she might be able to do it for another 20 years. And that is her resolution: to stay healthy enough to keep doing this new thing she loves for as long as she can.

That is my New Year's resolution -- and my New Year's revelation as well.

Maybe I work hard enough right now. Maybe I'm healthy enough, fit enough, smart enough today. Maybe the self-improvement projects can be put on indefinite hold to make more time to do all the things I love.

And Bridget and I agreed: We needed to see each other before another year had passed.

Till next time,

Carrie

Photos and other things can be found on Facebook at CarrieClassonAuthor.

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In Sweden, there used to be a widespread belief that animals could talk on Christmas Eve.

My Swedish mother read me stories about this as a child, and it is true. Apparently throughout Scandinavia, folks would give their animals treats so they wouldn’t speak badly of them. This part makes me doubtful -- not that the animals got treats, but that anything I gave my cat, Felix, would prevent him from giving his opinion -- with or without the ability to speak.

Felix would tell you that he thinks he should get more treats all of the year and that he has grown tired of his current cat food and that he thinks he should get brushed at least an hour every day and that -- under no circumstances -- does he want his nails trimmed. He says this all the time. He just says it in Cat.

But I like the reminder to treat our pets especially kindly over the holidays because, whether or not they are talking about us, I’m sure the holiday season is chaotic and confusing. People are coming and going at strange times. Strangers come to the house, and the people who are supposed to be there are gone for long periods of time. Sometimes, our pets are asked to wear silly costumes and get a bath and are then taken to strange places, which I’m sure is exciting but also rather nerve-racking.

Lately, I’ve been giving out dog treats on my walks. I ask the owner if their dog would like a treat and, if it’s OK, I give the dog a little holiday snack. Some are skeptical until they taste it. Some won’t take it from my hand but will take it from their owner. But most dogs are happy to get a treat. I wish them a happy holiday and, when I see them again, they tug on their leash and, if they could talk, they’d say, “Hey! It’s the treat lady!”

There isn’t much that makes me happier than making an animal happy, and I’m guessing that is how the Swedes felt when they gave the dog a bone or brought an extra bucket of oats to the cows. It must have been a reminder, when they looked into those surprised cows’ eyes, that this day was different. Long before there was a Christmas to celebrate, there was the longest night of the year and, in Scandinavia, that would be a very long night indeed.

That night of the winter solstice, when the sun set so early and the dark lasted so long, would be a good time to remember the animals who had no way of knowing when the sun would be closer or when the days would be warmer or when the darkness would not last so long.

Those animals would see the dark and feel the cold, just as their owners did, and they would want a little reassurance. They would want a bone to chew on or a little bigger supper. They would want the backs of their ears scratched and a reminder that they were not alone and they would not go hungry.

And that is what we all need -- that is really all we need -- this time of year.

We need to be reminded that we are not alone. We have others who care about us. We will have a meal with a little something special about it, and we will remind others that they are cared for.

I will try to do that. With all the animals in my life -- and all the people, too.

Till next time,

Carrie

Photos and other things can be found on Facebook at CarrieClassonAuthor.

DISTRIBUTED BY ANDREWS MCMEEL SYNDICATION