Anyone can be watching you on the day that you don’t exercise. Eat doughnuts. Unearth the credit card for a virtual trip to Etsy. Something crazed, like 70% of resolutions have been broken before it’s even Valentine’s Day – a day you very well might have wanted to lose the weight for, save the money up to treat on, or get lap-dance-quality abs in honour of.

There’s a rumour the productivity people are trying to spread around: if you call it a goal, you’re more likely to keep the resolution goal. If you find little micro-goals, that will become catalysts for the big-bad-crazy resolution goal, you’re more likely to surf the big kahuna and look better than Frankie Avalon doing it. And if you want to ‘roids-free version of resolution goal home runs, you set a resolution goal for each month or so, since it takes an average of three weeks or just after for a habit (or the quitting of said tasty, wonderful, nicotine-laden habit) to stick.

I have an field-goal coming my way, if I can just keep my nose in the game and get the damn ball through the uprights: Paris. As in, the moving of us to it.

I figure it will be magical and unforgettable and educational and momentous. Also, it will cost an ass-ton between visas, and moving and travelling costs, plus there’s, you know, living expenses while we’re there. Me? I plan to freelance and maybe try to find an assistant ESL position because I’ve heard that they’re minimum effort for minimum time and maximum dollah dollah bills and really? I just need some sponsorship, to keep the visa aspect as easy as possible.

That being said. I plan to save at least a figure which is more than $9,999 saved up before I consider going. I plan to have Zoë and I well-equipped in French. I also plan to take almost nothing with us except for those really important books and toys and clothes – everything else will be stored until we figure out if we’re coming back or not.

So. Grandiose, yup, but doable. There’s an unofficial time-clock starting now, can you hear it? I’d prefer to be there before Zoë’s 6th birthday, when she would be school-aged, so that gives us less than 2.5 years – in fact, I’d prefer to be there within a year and a half, but hey, wiggle room, right?

How will I do it? Operation Miser’s my New Year’s resolution goal: Save, instead of spend; buy what’s needed, instead of what’s cheap but will be a waste; splurge minimally, instead of always; think before I buy, instead of brainlessly handing over cash; plan, instead of flying by the worn-out seat of my pants.

Cuz Mama’s gonna wanna be able to afford more pants in France.