I suck at New Year's resolutions. Resolving to discontinue my various bad habits is, I know, nothing more than an exercise in good intentions. Stop eating crap? Curtail my endless shopping for useless ephemera I coveted as a child? Refrain from procrastination? These things will never happen. I'm smitten with dishes, old books, record albums by obscure lounge singers of the '60s. The only task I don't drag my heels toward is one that involves acquiring more of these items while simultaneously consuming a big, crinkly bag... More >>>