Resolution Two: They Can't All Have Four Feet

"It's a good thing the kids don't live in the same city we do," The Great Plotnik heard himself saying yesterday. "This way, we have to make some friends."

What Plottie meant was his children have gone home. BZ left early this morning and PD, 5H and BI left New Year's Day. But anyway, kids and friends are different. Kids walk in the house and its theirs. They sprawl out all over it, occupy every inch, go into all the rooms, know what's in the closets. They're comfortable: they know where you keep the beer. When they get tired, they lie down on the sofa and fall asleep while you rub their feet.

Your friends know they're at your house, not at their house. This means they are polite, sit where they are told to, and when they get tired they don't stretch out on the sofa to take a nap. And when you go to their house, you sit on the sofa, or at the dinner table, and if you feel like a taco you don't raid their refrigerator to find tortillas, salsa and avocados.

But we all need closer friends. To do that, we need to be closer friends. Women have closer friends than men do, but women need closer friends too. Everyone does.

In this convoluted manner, Plotnik has come to his Second Resolution of 2007:

Get to know the friends better that he already has.

Making new friends is fine, but Plottie doesn't need more friends, he needs better friends.

If The Great Plotnik asks himself 'who have I run into in these last few years that I liked instantly?' he could probably list...half a dozen people, anyway, maybe more.

If he asks himself 'and what did I do to move this friendship forward?' the answer would be: 'Basically Zippo.'

The only addendum to this resolution must be: They Can't All Have Four Feet.