I used to be the most resolute resolution-maker. Even as a child, I was always goal-oriented and loved the feeling of accomplishing things, and every January 1st, I would dutifully sit down and write out my resolutions for the upcoming year. And what resolutions they were! I always picked big goals, like: In the new year, I will lose 50 pounds! And run a marathon! And have a picture-perfect home! And study scripture every day! Oh, and be the best parent ever who never yelled at my children!

The problem? I never accomplished those resolutions. I’d start out strong, but by February or March, I’d be out of willpower and I’d slide quietly back into my old habits. Every winter, I’d feel guilty and ashamed, looking back at all of the amazing things…I didn’t do.

Then I got cancer…twice…at the same time

Two years ago, I started experiencing severe stomach pain. The doctors weren’t sure what was causing it, and they finally scheduled a surgery to go in and figure it out. But before I could have the surgery, I found a lump and was diagnosed with breast cancer. I started treatment for the breast cancer only to discover that the stomach pain was from appendix cancer. That’s right: two different cancers, with two different treatment plans, at the same time, in the same body. It was a lot to deal with, and I won’t lie—the next year was incredibly difficult.

Everything felt different

One good thing I can say about cancer is that it completely changed my perspective on my life—especially about what I consider “success” and “failure.” Before, I always felt like I was failing somewhere, but now simply being alive and with my family felt like a huge success. That was when I decided I was done with New Year’s resolutions.

What’s so special about January 1st?

I understand the appeal of having a new beginning or a fresh start, but I learned from my illnesses that you can take the opportunity to start over at any time. In fact, you can start fresh every day if you want to! January 1st is just a day, and it’s not special. You can make the day you decide to be a better person a special day, regardless of what the calendar says.

Big goals can mean big failures

Looking back, I think one of my biggest problems with New Year’s resolutions was wanting to “dream big” but not having the skills and capacity to do those things. I was setting myself up for failure every year and then being surprised when—gasp—I failed!

Now I take the opposite approach: I’m all about the little goals. First, little goals are easy to set. Instead of saying I’m going to run a marathon, I’ve decided I’m going to run 20 minutes three days a week. Oh, and I can go as slow as I feel like! (Find out how to make your daily walk less boring.) Second, little goals are easier to accomplish. Every time I check one of my mini goals off my list, I feel a burst of pride and accomplishment. It’s a great feeling, and I don’t have to wait until the end of the year to experience it!

Building on small goals leads to success

The other great thing about making small goals instead of resolutions is that you can build small goals on top of each other, adding the achievements together. For instance, recently I decided to make sure I ate five servings of fruits and vegetables a day. After a few months, this became a solid habit, so I switched my little goal to drinking more water and less soda, adding that to the healthier eating habits I’d already established.

Small goals allow for more experimentation

Have you ever seen the rowing machines at the gym? They look like torture devices—even super-fit people will be gasping for air on them. In the past, I’d always assumed they were too hard, but a few months ago, I decided my next little goal would be to try something new at the gym. It turns out that I absolutely love the rowing machine! I can now do it for 30 minutes at a time. But if I hadn’t liked it, it would have been simple enough to try something else. It’s not like breaking a resolution; it’s just shifting your focus. (Not a gym-goer? No problem! These common household items serve double-duty as fitness equipment.)

My one New Year’s resolution for 2019

OK, so I did make one resolution last year. Come January 1st, our insurance deductibles reset, and when you have as many doctors’ appointments, medications, and treatments as I do, deductibles are a really big deal. So I jokingly told my husband that my resolution was to stay healthy enough to not meet our deductible for the year. And, hey, I did it! I think part of it was the healthy habits I’d been able to slowly build throughout the year.

Cancer forces you to live in the moment

The thing about almost losing your life is that it really makes you realize how fragile and precious life is—and I decided I don’t want to waste a minute of it feeling bad or guilty. Cancer gave me a sense of purpose and motivated me to find a better way to feel successful. I haven’t given up on becoming a better person. I don’t like being too comfortable! But I’ve learned that there are much better ways to improve and grow than through New Year’s resolutions.

Next, check out these uplifting quotes from cancer survivors.

From the annual “No-Shave November” trend (or, more succinctly, “Movember”) to the extravagant quarantine beards many men have tried to grow during the COVID-19 pandemic, mustaches have been having a bit of a mo-ment (if you will). And now, thanks to nutraceutical company Formulate Health, you can partake in this trend, regardless of your quantity of facial hair, with this tricky puzzle.

As you can see, all of these dapper fellows are sporting some snazzy facial hair—well, almost all of them. The goal of this brain teaser is to find the one man who doesn’t have a ’stache. While a speedy someone on the Formulate Health team spotted him in a mere ten seconds, we bet you can find him in under a minute!

To make your life a little easier, here’s another tip: While you can’t see the mouths of any of the mustachioed men, the man without the mustache has a visible mouth!

Ready for the answer? Scroll down!

The only man with the bare upper lip is all the way on the left side of the image, pretty much right smack in the middle between the top and bottom. Yup, he’s got a mouth, but no mustache!

Now that you’ve spent lots of time looking at drawings of mustaches, check out more fun brain games to give your grey matter a workout!

The Button Box

“Going, going, gone, for $3 to bidder number 43, the lady in the last row, white hat.” The auctioneer called out my auction number and location. I had just won the bidding for a 1950s cookie tin full of memories at an estate sale outside McConnellsburg, Pennsylvania, near the farm where my husband and I live.

Delighted at my victory, I took the box and gave it a shake. The contents rattled. I pried off the lid and took a peek. Inside were dozens—or maybe even hundreds—of buttons, pins and other items, all glittering in the sunlight. It reminded me of my mom’s button box. As a girl, I’d always enjoyed digging through it, just as my own daughters enjoyed looking through mine.

I listened to the auctioneer’s patter as more objects were bid on and sold. I bought some lovely embroidered pillowcases and a few other things. Soon my eye caught the movement of a swing on the front porch of the house. A petite older woman watched the happenings in her yard, her eyes wandering over the crowd, looking for the familiar faces of friends and neighbours.

As I carried my purchases to my car, I stopped to chat with her. We made small talk about the large number of people that had gathered and the prices her things were bringing. She told me she was selling almost all her possessions because she was moving to a nursing home in town.

Her eyes fell to the button box, and when she looked up, they were glistening with tears. I asked whether she minded if I sat with her awhile. She slid over to make room for me next to her on the swing.

I took the lid off the tin, and her gnarled hand lifted a handful of buttons and then slowly dropped them back into the container. Her fist closed around a delicate pearl button, now yellow with age. She smiled as she told me about the birth of her first child and the special pearl-buttoned christening outfit that would be worn by five more babies before time wore the garment thin.

I noticed a large, dark brass military button and asked her about it. “From my first husband’s uniform,” she said. “It’s one of the few things I had to remind me of him when he didn’t return home alive.”

They had been married seven months before he left to serve his country in the Second World War. “I married his best friend two years later, and we had a good marriage,” she told me. “That’s the way it was in those days. Someone always looked out for the widows and children.”

As we sifted through the box together, we found hairpins ranging from black to brown to shades of grey and even white. Each colour noted the passing of time and its effect on her hair. When I pulled a small key from the box, I heard the sharp intake of her breath. It was the key to a music box that played a special love song, she said. She’d lost it years ago. From my hand to hers, I passed the key to her memories.

We found a Sunday school pin holding a bar for perfect attendance in every year except one. She explained, “The year my mother was sick with cancer, I stayed home on Sundays with her so my father could get to church. He never missed a Sunday until he died, 15 years ago.”

Garter clips, wooden nickels, snaps and ruby buttons took her further down memory lane. I learned about her wedding, the birth of her children and much more of the life she’d led for 89 years.

After our chat, I set the woman’s box of memories down on the swing and slid my hands into hers. I knew we would talk again, when I went to visit her at her new home. And I knew that when I reached my own home, my heart would pull me to my sewing room, where I would rediscover my own lifetime of memories in my own button box.

Next, read about a widow whose children made a quilt for her—out of their father’s old clothes

We all know that the holidays are going to be a little different this year. The usual company-wide holiday parties and big family gatherings are going to be replaced by virtual get-togethers. But that doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice any holiday spirit. This visual puzzle from Rovva, the world’s largest business support platform, illustrates just how merry an all-online Christmas gathering can be.

Among the well-decorated homes of these socially distanced revellers are seven hidden Santa Clauses. Almost all of them are miniature in size. Some of them are full-body figures, but for others, all you can see are the Santa hat-topped heads! Ready to give it a go?

(To help you out, we’ll tell you that the bearded, bespectacled man, in the home with the big mirror, does in fact count as a Santa, though he’s not exactly “hidden.”)

Here’s another hint: No individual “screen”/person’s home has more than one hidden Santa.

Ready to see where they are? Scroll down!

Did you find them all? If this was a piece of cake, check out more fun brain games to give your grey matter a workout!

It was previously believed that keeping your car idle, instead of restarting your car, is better for your engine. So if cars are waiting in a line, or simply waiting outside for someone to hop in, the car should stay on and idle. Although this belief was proven to be true back in the day, it actually is no longer true for cars now.

According to a video published by The Massachusetts Department of Energy Resources, keeping your car idle is actually terrible for the environment. The reasoning has to do with the technology used to fuel the engine within the car and how that technology has changed.

Back in the day, cars used carburetors to help fuel the engine. Carburetors combine air and fuel for proper engine performance. It also uses more fuel when engines start up, versus idling with the car on. Hence why people keep the car idling to save energy. (Here are more car myths you need to stop believing.)

However, technology has changed, and carburetors aren’t used anymore. In the 1980s, auto manufacturers switched carburetors out with fuel injection systems. This system also combines air and fuel, but in a more controlled volume compared to a carburetor. The fuel is used more efficiently since little fuel is actually used to start up the car.

This means that more fuel is used when the car is idle, versus starting it up all over again. Hence why we see more cars made with the start-stop technology. Not only does this technology save the overall energy within your car, but it also decreases the amount of wasted fuel (and air pollution) each year.

Although the technology has improved, and fuel-injection systems have proven to be better for the engine, it’s still helpful to point out how continually stopping and starting your car more than 20 times a day could impact the car’s battery and starter, according a 2015 study by Argonne National Laboratory for the U.S. Department of Energy.

“For a typical motorist, the damage to starting system components resulting from additional daily start cycles will be negligible,” the report read. “Overall, it was found that starter life is mostly dependent on the total number of start cycles, while battery life is more dependent on ensuring a full charge between start events.”

The car shouldn’t be stopped and started at every stop because the battery needs time to recharge. The report said: “Overall, frequent stop-start cycles (start engine, drive 2- 3 miles [4-5 kilometres], then shut engine off to restart soon after) will degrade the battery. Less-frequent stop-start cycles (start engine, drive more than about six miles [10 kilometres], then shut engine off) will maintain the life of the battery as the state of charge will be maintained at a higher level. To recharge the battery, the vehicle should be driven, rather than idled, because the alternator is less efficient at idle speed. Using accessories while the engine idles could still result in a net drain on the battery.”

The report concluded that best practices are to limit start-stop events to 10 a day, any shutdown greater than a minute will result in cost savings and drive greater than 5 miles [8 kilometres] between start-stop events.

So instead of keeping your car idle, shut it off while you wait for that person to hop in!

Next, check out these pro tips on how to get better gas mileage.

Sacramental Soufflé

It was Christmas Eve, 1973, in Vancouver. I had two daughters, one 22 months and the other five months. Preparing to celebrate, I told Sybil, the older one, that we would put the baby to bed before dinner and she, Daddy and I would eat in the living room, with the Christmas tree lights ablaze. I can still see her sitting in her pajamas, proud as punch, at a little table in front of the fire.

We ate cheese soufflé from my most sophisticated recipe source—Amy Vanderbilt’s Complete Cookbook—as well as tomatoes provençale and green beans. The menu was neither traditional nor particularly festive, and I have no memory of how I chose it. In fact, I’m impressed that I managed to make even a halfway-nice dinner with two small children. For Sybil, the highlight of the evening seemed to be that Hannah, the baby, was in bed, and she had her parents to herself.

The next Christmas Eve, I forgot all about the cheese soufflé. Then Sybil, almost three, announced, “Tonight Hannah will go to bed, and I will eat in front of the fire with you and Daddy.” I knew that Hannah, at 17 months, was not going to permit that, but before I could speak, Sybil continued, “And we will eat cheese soufflé.” I was stunned. How could someone not yet two when she ate the soufflé remember it for a year?

Of course, we obeyed her. We have been obeying her for 47 years. Every Christmas Eve, we eat cheese soufflé, tomatoes provençale and green beans in front of the fire, except when we run out of floor space and then we eat it at the table. Depending on who is hosting for Christmas, we do this in Vancouver, Toronto or London, U.K.

And Hannah is always invited.

Learn about Noche Buena, the traditional Christmas Eve feast in the Philippines.

My Year as the Virgin

My mother, Mary Anne, and her friend Elizabeth had agreed to head up the annual children’s Christmas pageant at our local Catholic church, St. Anne’s in Peterborough, Ont. Their challenge was to transform 20 suburban youngsters from the year 1986 into shepherds, wise men and barn animals from the year 1.

“Why does she get to be Mary?” my older sister Kate whined.

“You had the role last year. Your sister gets to be the Virgin this year,” Mom replied. There may have been some spiritual nepotism involved in the casting (Elizabeth’s son, Tony, was playing Joseph), but I’d rather believe that our mothers recognized our raw talent.

Our costume budget was somewhat lacking so I wore my own white nightgown with a baby blue pillowcase bobby pinned to my head. Joseph wore a terry cloth robe and a brown bath towel on his head, held firmly in place with a curtain tieback.

There were no lines to memorize. Instead, as the lector read the story of Jesus’s birth, Joseph and I knocked on the imaginary door of the inn and looked appropriately downtrodden when the innkeeper shook his head and pointed to a wooden manger downstage centre. Bleating about the makeshift structure were a handful of children on their hands and knees with woollen sheep ears attached to headbands. Joseph and I calmly sat ourselves on a crisp pile of dry straw, among the livestock, to await the miraculous birth of our child.

I anxiously listened for my cue line, “The time came for her to have her child,” and then, with nary a labour pain, I valiantly lifted Baby Jesus from his hiding place behind a straw bale and set him into the empty cradle beside me. Jesus, in this scene, was played by my own Jesmar Newborn Baby. He was a wrinkled, anatomically correct doll I’d begged for Santa to bring me the year before. His real name was Daniel Edward Paul, but on this day, he was honoured to play the part of the Messiah.

The play was a success, and although not a usual occurrence during mass, the parishioners broke into thunderous applause—or at least that’s how I remember it.

Back at home, my younger sister, Kerry, and I held a post-mortem, and I imparted wisdom that would be helpful when the time came for her to play the Virgin Mother. Then we changed Daniel back into his fuzzy onesie.

“I didn’t know Jesus had an umbilical cord,” Kerry said.

“Obviously he does,” I responded. “He’s attached to God.”

Next, check out the heartwarming story behind one family’s 47-year-old Christmas Eve meal tradition.