This is the plan: In each of the year's 12 months, I'll do something I've never before done. Ideally, with friends in tow.

What these 12 acts are remains undetermined. Suggestions are welcome. Votes even may be taken. Veto power rests with me.

Skydiving? I think very probably not. I've bungee jumped. That, and the thing-at-the-carnival-where-the-bottom-falls-out-when-you're-spinning add up to more than enough gravity-related stunts for a lifetime. So no skydiving. No riding a bull named Fu Manchu either.

Two of my fellow auburn-haired friends are anxious to join me in the only idea that so far has gained unanimous approval. The book's suggestion: "Dye your hair blonde and see if they really do have more fun." Since each of us deals with the public daily, that seems a bit extreme. Wigs, however, will do just fine. Blonde for a day it is.

Most of the other ideas are not from the book. Once things got rolling, it seemed a shame to limit them. But they are still flitting about in my mental air, waiting for a commitment from me. Unassisted, this could take a while; commitment is not my specialty.

Attend an Evangelical Christian service, suggested the most conservative and Christian friend I have. I like this one because I've heard that not only do these folks do some magnificent cartwheels, the music - and the sound system that carries it - is rumored to be stellar.

I'll come clean: I like church music -- but in a church only. As long as I'm confessing, "Amazing Grace," and a whole host of other, extremely traditional hymns, moves me to tears. But I keep quiet about all this to protect my sacrilegious reputation as a recovering and bitter ex-Catholic.

The Catholics, however, have the best music in town. It's what kept me going long after I stopped believing the theology. But in keeping with my commitment issues, I am now an Unitarian. I'm content with the messages, appalled by the music. Lyrics, melodies and singing -- the whole kit and kaboodle is lackluster. Unitarians readily admit this is true; it is the one thing we know for sure.

Digression again. Sorry.

Among the other ideas: Work at a construction site for a day, fix and deliver a meal to someone who lives in a tent, rent a really hot car, head to the airport and fly anywhere, create a holiday and plan a celebration around it, eat something featured in "Fear Factor", pay ahead for half a dozen McDonald's orders and quietly watch reactions, try snowboarding, wear a mini skirt, stiletto heels and a feather boa to the grocery store, sing solo at a karaoke bar, kiss a guy from every state - in a year, not a month - peruse and make a purchase at a sex shop, put coke in my eyes and speed down a rural highway. OK, that one's a joke, but I know someone who did it -- someone who likely is reading this. Go a month without a drink. OK, that one's a joke, too.

A Starbucks, a police officer, and a super Wal-Mart somehow must be included in this year's misdaventures as well. Just how I don't yet know. But I bet someone in my wee readerland does.

Now that you have the idea, I think I should tell you something about me. It may help you understand why I feel compelled to potentially and publicly embarrass or maim myself. It may even help me understand.

But that is for another day. Night has fallen and I can't get "Amazing Grace" out of my head. Retribution, I suspect, for a wretch like me.