Rob Taylor Fair-thee-well (sort of): New Years with a side of Chawbacon |

Rob Taylor Fair-thee-well (sort of): New Years with a side of Chawbacon

My Y2K IX top three reflections (a.k.a. Chawbacon Ramblings): One: I need a good therapist (so I can have someone to share my dreams with). Two:Last night, I made Yogurt-Stuffed Three-Cheese Phyllo Triangles, all you Martha Stewart wannabes tell me, rattling off a dozen ingredients Ive never heard of, could enunciate or even afford while I pop another Lean Cuisine frozen cardboard MRE in the microwave. Grrr. Bottom line: Do not cook and tell.Three:A telephone answering machine message with teeth Hello? Hello? Anyone there? (keep saying this for 10 seconds; its deliciously fun). If the caller persists, sigh disgustedly, then add, Look: Im already losing sleep over my expired car warranty. Where were you guys when I was buying a Yugo?Yep. My 2008 was a strange brew of philosophy and epiphany a microcosm of reality. Hard to argue that any bona fide 2008 Time Capsule should include a gallon of $4 gasoline, a lead-based paint toy or two, an updated Jack & Jill nursery rhyme: (Freddie falling, Fannie a-tumbling after) and a smoldering 401(k). As another riveting chapter in lifes fairy tale unfolds in 2009, happily ever after hangs in the balance. Its a dangling carrot that I can no longer ignore, an Everest that I must pursue.Step one: research. After burning half an hour in cyberspace, I hit the mother lode at, unlocking the secrets to lifes unsolved mysteries, including how to look like Anna Kournikova, buy girl pants if youre a guy, safely use a public restroom, be a ninja spy and (how to) stop talking about yourself. Solid information. The stuff of New Years resolutions. But not for me. Im targeting Pulitzers, syndication, sitcoms in the crosshairs. I tell myself its easier than winning the lottery. Well see The 2008 jury for this column, however, has spoken clearly, saying things like: Im still peeing my pants over that last column of yours semi problematic when Im alone in public, but manageable, thanks to adult diapers. Yes, yes. I know: Don’t let it go to my head.To be perfectly honest, the feedback wasnt all grins and giggles. One critic accused me of stunting my toddlers physical and psychological development (because she sneaks sips of my lattes). Another reader swung lower (Ill spare you the details). And I would be negligent to make no mention of the fallout over a typo (I erroneously called a novel Praying instead of Playing for Pizza). The lesson? Regardless of topic, writers always offend someone just steer clear of the Grisham Fan Club if at all possible.Despite the skepticism, theres one 2 a.m.-staring-at-the-ceiling waking dream I cant shake making the NY Times Best-Seller List. This is why, in 2009, this column will not appear again in the Sky-Hi Daily News until April, and then make a monthly, not a weekly appearance. The lighter schedule will give me time for growing wild hairs, for chasing dreams, for breathing life into my someday.But enough about me. Heres to your someday. Lets make this rat lap around the sun count and thank you for reading.

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