So, this year, to battle resolution atrophy — or whatever they call it — I've decided to break it up into more manageable chunks. Baby steps, if you will. So, instead of a single, broad, ill-defined resolution, such as lose weight or save money, I've decided to make 12 smaller, monthly resolutions. Maybe turn it into a series of four-week self-improvement boot camps.

January

Let's just call this one detox, with apologies to Dr. Dre. And no, I'm not talking about one of those weird celebrity juice cleanses or coffee enemas. I simply plan to swear off the bottle to start the year, and give my body a reboot. As an added bonus, I'm going to double-down on my effort to avoid carbs of any kind.

It's funny: All my life, I could eat whatever the hell I wanted and my weight would barely budge. But this past year was a (super-sized) beast. Maybe the meds made it worse, my age is catching up with me, or my metabolism just hit a speed bump the size of a (Big) Mac truck, but something changed this year. And, yeah, I know it was probably all of the above, and that it happens to all of us, but damn, it's one rude awakening.

February

My last year of college, I started a novel. It wasn't much — a marginally embellished, autobiographical walkthrough of my college years. Keep in mind, I was on the six-year plan, so I had plenty of material. Anyway, a couple of years later, I finished it. And while it's done little more than collect dust in my home office ever since, it remains one of the most cathartic things I've ever done in my life.

It's something I need to revisit. And this will be the month — and the year — I do just that.

March

I intentionally put this a few months into the year. Everyone and their brother hits the gym in January. I'd rather avoid the crowds.

This would also be a good time to revisit the wearable business. I sported the Fitbit most of last year, but I broke the damn thing and have been walking blind ever since. And while I readily acknowledge how immature this market is, I ultimately think there's something to be said for the record-keeping and accountability such devices offer.

April

This is the month I knock out a pair of longtime personal goals. The first is to finish my scuba training and get my open water certification. I finished the classroom/swimming pool portion late last year and the weather and end-of-year craziness got in the way.

I also want to (finally) learn how to drive a motorcycle. Just don't tell my wife.

Oh, and golf. I need to pick the clubs back up. Besides, I need to be able to play in that golf tournament next month.

May

This will be financial self-improvement month. For starters, I want to double my personal monthly savings plan. I know, it's not exactly the American way to save, not spend, but those of us who preach about financial wellness should practice our own sermons.

That being said, this is the year I get a will finally drawn up. I've put this off for far too long, and I'm not sure why…

Oh, and let's not forget the Benefits Selling Expo. I firmly resolve to make it our best to date, and that we'll handily break that attendance record.

June

This summer's going to be all about travel for me. And we'll be starting small with two words: Road. Trip. I haven't taken one in years and my (still) new Jeep is dying to make an extended run. I'd also like to double this up by knocking off one of the few states left that I haven't visited: maybe North Dakota? Although I wouldn't mind a sojourn up to Jackson's Hole, Wyoming.

July

Storey Summer Tour 2015 continues with a trip to Motor City. I've always wanted to visit Detroit. Catch a Tigers game. Of course, hit the Motown museum. This is a bucket list trip for me. (Those of you who know me know why.)

I'd also like to take this month to talk to my doctor about the meds, and see what I can do about weaning myself off of them.

August

The summer of travel will rage on in a big way with my first international trip in 20 years. Last year's long-overdue vacation really sparked a wanderlust I never knew I had. So, my wife and I will hop across the pond and spend a week in Great Britain. London, mostly, but she knows I'm dying to see Belfast, so we'll see.

September

This month, in which I'll turn 45, I want to spend in some quiet reflection, which sounds silly and trite, I know, but I figure, best-case, my life's half over. I think it's a good time to look around and see what I've left behind. And what I can do to make it better.

As a key part of that, I want to take a weekend trip with just my son. He'll turn 15 this year. Give us some time together away from all of the other distractions and get to know who we're both becoming. Again, I guess it sounds like something out of Modern Family, but it's something I never got as a kid and always wanted.

October

Halloween. I want to walk Harley through the neighborhood this year. Just the two of us, in some kind of themed-costume pairing. I still feel guilty about how much time I missed with my older kids because of the divorce. Trust me when I say that you always think there'll be another weekend, another holiday, another special occasion. But in the blink of an eye "maybe next time" turns into "never again." Especially with teenagers.

November

I think November would be a great time to revisit the month-long detox.

I also want goose again for Thanksgiving. And I wanna be the one roasting it this year. It's the little things, right?

Seriously, though, I've talked for years about hitting the road and sitting in on some enrollments, or maybe just spending a day with a broker, old-school like. You know, like a ride-along.

December

Would it be too much to simply ask for the opportunity to be right back here with all of you? Going over what I managed, what I didn't and what I learned from it all?

Here's wishing each of you, and your families, the best of new years.