Resolutions v. 2018

My house is as neat and straight as it's ever been, maybe.  My laundry is handled - not completely, but it is no longer in the realm of out of control and is now my bitch.  My sink is clear, my bathroom is clean, my daughters have a freshly-vacuumed carpet.  My living room is also vacuumed, and there's a fresh coat of paint on one wall.  I have a new clothing-storage solution in my bedroom, and that alone is worth cartwheels.  There are a hundred million things that still need to be done and it will take a hundred million years to get them all done, but I feel like I'm off to a great start.  My mind is more calm than it has been in a long time.  I walk from room to room in the middle of the night, reminding myself that the chaos is at bay, and I breathe a big sigh of relief and contentment and go right back to sleep without a single toss or turn.

I have a new journal and I don't think I love it, but I love the idea of it.  There may be another sort that is better suited - I think I saw it on an Instagram ad, but I'll figure it out.  This one will do for the first three months.

I have a new self-love routine, and it doesn't involve a vibrator, no matter how that sentence started and sounded.  I'm focusing on meditation - at least a few minutes at least once a day - and yoga, specifically the newest 30-day program on Yoga With Adriene.  I'm also working in a little ab-specific focus, and hopefully there will be more lifting by the end of the month, but for now, i'm starting where I feel I need to start and will get the most mental benefit.

I am going to read more books - I remember books and remember loving them, but I haven't read in such a long time, unless it's bullshit on the internet.  I just don't need that in my life anymore - I need paperbacks.  Also, painting.  I've had canvas and oil paints and brand new brushes and a brand new desk easel downstairs in the basement, unopened, untouched, for at least 2 years now.  Fuck that.  I'm going to paint.  (I have to finish my laundry project to make a space - oils are messy and I need room to be messy.  Work in progress.)

Also, hiking and roller skating.

All of this is so I can be better - a better wife, a better mother, by being a better me.  I'm trying to identify the things that make me happy and do those things - instead of reading about all of the things that scare me that I can't change.  And I need to spend less time on my phone - especially when the girls are awake.  It's inexcusable and I need to do better, for them and for me.

Resolutions, I guess these are.  Cross your fingers for me - I need them to stick.

I don't give a *&$#

I said to Maggie that 37 was going to be the year I stopped giving more weight to the opinions of others than I give to my own.  Well.  I think I said something more like, "I'm going to stop giving a fuck what people think."  Same difference. 

I decided to start practicing on New Year's Day 2017, figuring I'd get a 4-month head start.  It's hard to learn this particular skill, after a lifetime of being overly concerned that everyone around you at the very least isn't mad at you, and at best, is completely comfortable, well-fed, thirst-quenched, and content with all of your most recent actions and opinions.  That last bit there, the way I've lived my entire life, I inherited that shit honestly.  I think.  The women in my family hold opinions, but we don't ever want them to hurt anyone else's feelings.  My Mom, my Aunt Pam, my Cousin Stacy.  Maybe we're not all that way, maybe it's just us.  I don't think Granny was that way.  I remember Granny being more of a "That's just the way it is, whether you like it or not" sort of woman.  Like when she wouldn't let me win at Skip-Bo - "If I have the cards to play, Natalie, I'm going to play it, whether it helps you or not. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose."  Such a hard lesson to understand - the lesson of learning to just roll with it. 

I imagine there are about 3 people still seeing my Facebook updates. That's cool.  I can't help the soapbox I keep finding myself on.  I hold back as long as I can, and then I burst with a flurry of political rants and posts and shares...I just want people to love each other.  Stop being so fucking afraid of each other, realize we're all the same, we all want the same things, we're all fighting the same invisible battles...

We don't have to be afraid of each other.  It's bullshit for us to be afraid of our neighbors.  We are all full of the same nervousness, the same awkward fear of rejection.  My self consciousness is exactly the same as yours - we're on a level playing field, we are equal. 

I love you.  I want the best things for you.  You do you your way.  But I get to do me my way.  That's the deal.  We both want what's best for each other, but we each get to define that for ourselves. You don't limit me, I don't limit you.  (Basic "don't kill each other", "don't cheat one another", etc etc apply, of course.) 

This is our only future.  This is the only way forward.  This is the way for my family, what I teach my children.  Please teach yours the same? 

What were your resolutions?  How are you doing at sticking to them? 

Even just a few words counts as something.

Melinda.  She always tells me to come here, to say things. I should, I tell her, I need to.  I always mean it. I always have the best of intentions. Right now, my laptop is dead and so is my 90 wpm typing skill without an actual keyboard. Forgive brevity until the issue is resolved, I  ask of you. 

But I will come here, and say some things. Because she said so, and because it is good for my soul. 

Resolution time!  I'm going to finish some of the things that I start. I'm going to stop putting the opinions of others before my own.  (Except for doctors and other professionals, of course. Be reasonable.)  I'm going to follow my happy. I'm going to grow things. I'm going to be an awesome mom.  I'm going to be the best wife.

I'm going to live the fuck out of life, that's what I'm going to do. 

How about you?  What will 2017 bring for you?

I'm gonna be one of those exercise/weight-loss bloggers for a while, okay?

I'm new to this counting calories thing.  Um, it's possible I've been known to say I'd never live my life counting the calories I put into my mouth because, well, fuck that.  I like food.  A lot.  It's one of my favorite things ever.  

But I've gotten fat by being lazy, and lo and behold, here I am, running to the computer or my stupid, hated-but-now-sorta-tolerated Blackberry so I can record every morsel that so much as looks at my lips a second too long.  And I'm rounding up!  For example:  Tonight, my pan-seared cod filet had, according to the package, only 90 calories per 4 oz serving, but I totally selected the first pan-seared cod that popped up, even though it was for 119 calories.  I figure this gives me a little wiggle room - I mean, this weight-loss shit isn't exact science or anything, you know?  And I recorded the teaspoon of safflower oil Jimi used to lube the pan, and the lime wedge I squeezed over my fish.  I recorded the carrot slices and the radish slices and the 4T of salad dressing.  Yes.  4T.  (I probably left half a tablespoon on the plate, but I wasn't going to measure and deduct.)  My dressing won for calorie content tonight.  

I'm determined I'm not going to fail at this - I'm going to look phenomenal in that dress and I will rock the world with my awesome that will only be outshadowed by the bride's, which of course is how it should be, seeing as how it's her big day and all. 

Speaking of the bride, she called me tonight and we're going to go work our asses at the gym tomorrow night.  I'm excited to have an exercise buddy in real life, in addition to all of this amazing support you guys keep heaping upon me so generously.  (Have I said thank you yet?  Thank you!  I feel encouraged and inspired and like I've got people rooting for me, which always makes everything easier.)  

I'm trying to be really careful when I'm entering my exercises.  I don't want to bump up the numbers to make things look better on paper - the only cheating is cheating myself, and that ain't gonna zip that dress.  That being said, I walked/jogged/ran 4.04 miles tonight in 1:08:00.  I know you just read that as "I walked/jogged ran blahblahblahblah".  If you didn't, and you understand what it means, please stop rolling your eyes and thinking "OMG, did she really just post that embarrassing lame-ass time?  HAHAHAHA!!!"  I'm sorta recording it here for posterity.  

That evening stroll with Finn made my day look awesome - I burned 458 calories, meaning I've got another 440 calories left today before I hit 1200.  I'm having a beer.  Shut up.  I know it's counterproductive, but it's only 99 calories and 3 carbs and I've got 128(!!!) carbs left for the day so I feel like I've fucking earned this beer.  

I'm sorry if this post sucks big fat hairy gorilla balls.  (Do gorillas have hairy balls?  Or are their private parts naked like those other monkey-things?)  I won't talk about my fat or my food or my calories or my lame-ass walk/jog/run times forever.  

I feel great.  I feel strong.  I feel like I'm going to be buying a new wardrobe at the after-Christmas sales.  

Ain't got nothin' to say...

But I'm gonna type, type, type away.

That is what I do, 

when I can't think of anything good to share with you.

Whoa.  I'm not a poet and I totally know it.

Instinct tells me to move to something else, distract myself and maybe later something will come to me.  Nope.  I'm staying right here!!!  Aren't you glad you're still reading?

Twitter me this...

I don't know how to do Twitter.  I figured out how to get my blog posts to automatically update my twitter feed, but that's about all I do on there.  Last friday, no fewer than three awesome women linked me in #FF - i think that means Follow Friday?  Like you're supposed to recommend your favorite blogs?  I don't know how to do it though, so I couldn't even properly reciprocate.  I'm so ignorant about this technology stuff.

Jimi got his hairs cut today.  He just told me I should talk about that:  "What are you typing?"  "A bunch of bullshit."  "You should talk about my hairs.  It's the most important news of the day."  I must say, he looks very handsome with his new hairs:

But all I can see is the crap on the table behind him.

Have I mentioned I'm a lousy housekeeper?  That's totally my beer bottle.

But yes, he's very pretty.

I like wine.  Cheap wine.  3/$10 Arbor Mist cheap "wine".  Can't you tell?

Wait.  I just re-read that.  That's totally not what I meant.  Stop giggling.

Nevermind.

I need some pie.  I baked a pie on July 4th, in honor of Independence Day because that's the American thing to do, right?  Eat apple pie?  It was all the justification I needed, okay?  And I'm going to eat some more of that pie tonight and pretend it's me being patri-fucking-otic.  

Did I mention I'm going to be in a wedding in October?  And that I ordered my bridesmaid's dress the other day?  In a size smaller than the one I tried on at the store, which fit me to a T?  Um, in case you're having what I'm having - that means I need to lose no less than one dress size in the next 4.5 months.

How long can I put it off before I have to start the starvation/laxative diet?  

No.  Wait.  I'm going to do this the right way.  I'm going to exercise, eat right, and lose so much that I have to have the size-smaller dress taken in so it'll stay up on me by the time the big day arrives.  

Right?  Right?!

Right.

I'm starting tomorrow, obviously.  There's pie in there that can't go to waist.  Waste.  Whatever.  

Humpity Hump

It's wet and dreary and cold and that's just how it's going to be for the next few days.  Blah.

But, I ran last night.  35 minutes.  Have you heard of some guy named Prince?  He sings songs.  He put out this album a long time ago called Purple Rain - do you know it?  I'm going to tell you something, and I need to know that it won't change our relationship...I've never listened to Purple Rain before last night.  I'm not going to be all dramatic and claim it changed my life or anything, but I will say that if I'd known before how awesome that album is, I may not have waited till I was almost 31 before I started this running thing.  Talk about a great beat for moving your ass!  Between the music and my little pep-talks ("you're doing a great job, Natalie, you're doing so good!  You're going to get skinny and thin and it will be awesome!  Good job!  Keep going!  This is easy!"  What?  You don't do that?  Why not?), the 35 minutes were over fast enough and there was sweat pouring off my face and I felt like I'd won a prize.  (I did - a shower.  That Jimi interrupted to torture me with a cup of cold water.  Why does he think cold water in the shower is funny?)

I have a confession to make:  After not smoking the entire month of January, I've bought and smoked 2 packs of cigarettes in 2011.  *hangs head in shame*  I'm back on the wagon today, though.  I like smoking, the physical and social act of it, but everything else about it is bad and horrible and I don't want to be a smoker anymore.  And smoking cigarettes, even if it's only one a day, still makes me a smoker.  *sigh*  Why is life so hard?

I hate bigots.  Especially ones that are elected to public office and use that platform to spread their bigotry and hatred and fear of everything they don't understand.

Ugh.  I'm going to work.  Have a great Wednesday!

Monday, you're not always an asshole.

I don't know why I set myself up for failure.  I knew when I was typing my resolutions that I wasn't going to follow through with all of them.  Two weeks later and I've not finished making a budget (and I'm broke - surprise!), I've not exercised, I've not taken a picture every day.  But I've also not smoked, which, I'll be honest, shocks me more than all failures combined.  I want to, I do, but I don't dare bum - I've gotten this far, you know?

I've been talking about digging the treadmill out from its grave of boxes for days.  Talking, not doing.  Just like everything else.

Glennon at Momastery did it again; she wrote something that stirred my soul.  It's called Namaste.  "The Divinity within me perceives and adores the Divinity within you."  What a concept.  So I tried it today - taking a breath before every interaction, remembering that everyone I meet is fighting a battle I can't see, speaking kindly, the Divinity in me, to the Divinity in them.  And you know what?  I had a good day.  On a Monday.

Of course, on my way home, I realized that since today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, probably a lot of my customers were closed and maybe that's why the phone didn't ring off the hook like it normally does, meaning I had time to get some things accomplished and caught up and I didn't get frustrated or overwhelmed.

But maybe it was because I approached the day, and everyone in it, with a different attitude than on most days.  I need to remember this.  I need to practice this.  We all should.

I keep almost typing "I'm going to clear off the treadmill for sure tonight", but then I'm all "STFU, Natalie.  You're all talk.  Save it for later, when you can say 'I cleared off the treadmill and walked 2 miles tonight', biotch".  And speaking of walking miles...Jimi's employer has some sort of competition going on wherein employees (broken into teams) are rewarded for walking X miles each week.  So MistaJimi himself walked a mile after work this afternoon - Jimi, my Jimi, who often refuses to to walk with me because "walking is boring".  He originally told me he was going to be walking with Barb, and I was all "WTF?  You'll walk with your work-wife, but not with me?!" and I was going to give him all sorts of shit.  Then, ....


Okay, since I put that comma there, I got up to hug that boy, got motivated, and we together cleared off the treadmill and rearranged things and now I have a place to walk that is not outside and cold.  YAY!  

I have told you where the treadmill came from?  The people who sold us the house left it here.  Along with a washer and dryer and a dresser and a big ol' deep iron sink that I can't imagine what we'll ever find use for.  So yeah, the treadmill came with the house.  It's not fancy or anything - it's about a million years old - but it works, and really, that's all that matters, right?  I won't be able to measure calories burned or miles walked, but I'll be able to walk and maybe even run on it.  And Jimi's moving the television down there so I can watch things while I walk.

Skinny me, here I come.  Well.  That might be pushing it.  Skinnier than I am right now me, here I come.  That's more like it.

:)

Oh, and Jimi taught me how to correctly pronounce Namaste, so today has been quite a day indeed.

And now I'm going to go read that Stephen King book I borrowed from Stacy while I walk on the treadmill for a few chapters.  And drink another beer.  Not bad for a Monday...not bad at all.

I bought 5 packs of cigarettes today.

I did.    

  I don't feel guilty about it, either.

I saw them, and I just had to have them.  

I didn't even know they sold candy cigarettes anymore.  I thought they'd been outlawed.  

Apparently, I was wrong.  

And in case you were wondering, yes, they are still just gross sticks of corn syrup.  

Oh, and as of today, I've not smoked in FOREVER.  Or, you know, 11 days, if you're counting.  Go me!  :)

I haven't smoked.  

I haven't exercised.
Scratch that.  I did 100 crunches.
Even though my ribs already feel like they've served as a punching bag from the 60 I did yesterday.    

Here's the picture of the day:

Jimi liked my outfit so much, he made me stand on the chair so he could take a picture.

And I was thirsty.

I don't normally wear such ridiculousness, I swear.  See, I wanted to take off my jeans (uncomfy pants) and put on stretchy pants (comfy pants), but there weren't any stretchy pants upstairs and I didn't want to walk ALL THE WAY DOWNSTAIRS TO THE BASEMENT but there was the white skirt, right there on top of the pile of socks I've still not matched up.  And it had an elastic waistband.  And yes, I admit I wore those socks and those shirts to work today, but when I was at work I promise I didn't have on the from-Halloween Princess Crown and Wolf Ears Combo.  

asdfjknzxvpoiuawerkjnzaklsjhpiuxbpozxdjhfb

Finn and I walked for 20 minutes today and I did 60 sit-up/crunch hybrid things on the balance ball.  I ate reasonably, including two servings of green beans (like a good girl!), and while I'd love to go in there and destroy a Little Debbie or four, I'm going to go to bed instead.

I worked on the budget, but I need more information so that project is to be continued...

Laundry isn't finished because our dryer sucks and must be cycled twice to fully dry a load of clothes.  But the clean clothes are all folded, and the dirty clothes are awaiting their fate in neatly sorted piles.  I never got around to getting the socks matched up; we had a dinner guest and i ran out of time.  It'll give Jimi and I something to do tomorrow night.

Jimi was a sweetheart and cleaned the kitchen to show his appreciation for me tackling the laundry.  I swear, one day I'm going to change the name of this blog to "Who wants to listen to me talk about how awesome my man is?", cause he is so awesome, and it's all I can do not to sing it from the rooftops every day.

Gosh, I really would love to have strawberry shortcake Little Debbie right now.

I'm trying so hard to get my head in a good place for work in the morning.  I'll get up early and shower and have some breakfast and watch the shitty news and I'll get to the office early and get a head start on the day and everything will run smoothly and it will all be fine.

It will all be fine.

I might sound a little bitchy.

There's a little pit in the center of my stomach that's starting to grow.  I felt it there Friday, but I ignored it.  It showed up again Saturday, but it was Saturday, so I was able to put it off again.   But today?  Today is Sunday, and reality is about to crash in on me -

Vacation.  Is.  Over.

Damn, and it sucks.    

Back to work tomorrow; back to the daily grind of phone calls and emails and customers and drivers.  Time to sort through the days of paper and orders and inventories and schedules; it'll be Wednesday before I know which end is up.  

But, hey, at least I've got a job, right?  And isn't it always fun to go back after being out and get to tell all the stories you would've told last week, except you weren't at work last week and so you've got all KINDS of things to share with your work family?  Why am I turning everything into a question?

I do have that pit, though.  I don't want vacation to be over; I want another two weeks to do all the things I should've done in the last two weeks, like laundry and painting and cleaning and organizing.  I want to get a paycheck and not have to actually go anywhere or do any work to earn it.  Wish in one hand...

I didn't take a picture yesterday, either.  I've taken pictures every day for the last week, and yesterday, the first day of my resolution to take a picture every day in 2011, I didn't take a picture.  I fail so hard.

And Megan was right, I should've done SOME exercise last night, but I swear my intentions are good and I'm totally going to exercise for an hour today.  (And I'll eat BEFORE - I read that Sumo wrestlers eat all of their meals after working out, then take a nap immediately after eating, to encourage their body to store the food as fat rather than using it for energy.  I'm pretty sure I've almost always eaten after I've worked out - the four or so times in my life I've worked out.)  

I slept like shit last night.  Get up at noon, spend the day riding around in a car and/or sitting at a table, do nothing physical, drink a 5-Hour Energy shot at 7 p.m., and attempt bed at 1 a.m. - go ahead, I dare ya.  You'll sleep like shit too.  I tossed and turned all night, and all night, while I fluttered in and out of consciousness, I "dreamed" about Nat the Fat Rat.  I spent an hour or so before bed reading some of her favorite posts of 2010, which she linked from her year-end review post.  I like her; partially because her name is Natalie, so she's obviously awesome, but also because damn, that girl can write.  And she sure did make a cute baby.  I want to be more like her.

There's something going on with my left eye and it's really starting to bug me.  It feels like there's a lump or something on my cornea - I can't see anything when I look in the mirror, but I can feel something.  And it'll just spontaneously tear up - and not stop.  I think it may have something to do with my contacts, so I guess I'm going to not wear them for a few days and see what happens.  

Because we were gone all day yesterday, I wasn't able to fix the traditional corned beef and cabbage and boiled potatoes and black-eyed peas for New Year's dinner.  We're going to pretend, though, and have it all tonight instead.  I can almost taste it already.  

I'm going to tackle the laundry today.  I'm not starting another workweek with my clothes in such disarray, with so much chaos waiting to greet me each and every working morning, starting my day off in not exactly the best way, probably.  I'll post pictures, but not yet - I can't dare show you what the before looks like without having an after to make it all better.  I'm too ashamed.  But I'll be back tonight, with pictures and a clean, tidy laundry room.  Cross my heart.  

As if you care.

I fail at resolving things.

We're, what?, 21 hours? into the New Year and I've already messed up several of my resolutions:  I've not started the budget working, I smoked half a cigarette I bummed from Momma on the way home from the jail, and I haven't done a bit of exercise today.  No one is more surprised by this development than I.

On the bright side, I did put $200 into savings on Thursday when my check hit the bank, and two days later, I've not moved that money back into checking, so that's gotta count for something, right?  (Of course, I've not gone anywhere where I'd be tempted to spend money, but still...)

Our New Year was exactly as I'd predicted, but with the added bonus of a half hour spent dancing together in the living room.  I'm a horrible dancer, but as with the painting, I've decided I'll never get better by NOT doing it, so what the hell?  If I can't dance comfortably in my living room, I'll never be able to dance anywhere.  And Jimi's a great dancer; maybe he can teach me a thing or two eventually.

So we danced.  And I got my kiss at midnight.  And then we went outside to share the last cigarette EVER, and the cold rain had arrived just on time and we were glad we had stayed home and didn't have to drive anywhere. And then we had hot monkey sex.  (TMI?  Sorry.)

Today we'd planned to go visit Brother, and Momma called around noon to ask if she could go along too, so the three of us made the drive down, the visit, the drive home.  It was a good day.  It was good to spend the time with Momma, and it was good to see Brother face to face, to hug his skinny little waist, to touch his long bony cold fingers and know that he was in front of me, real and okay, not terrified or miserable or hurting. It was good to have a conversation with him where I not only recognized the words he spoke as being English (which was hard to do a time or two in the last four years or so), but also understood those words fit together to form coherent sentences and phrases and paragraphs of thought (which didn't happen much in the last four years or so).  Off the shit, my brother is funny and clever and a great story-teller and sincere.  He's a different person.

We're all praying that this version will stick around.


At some point tonight, I'm going to feel guilty about the no exercise thing and I'm going to either go for a walk or I'll spend thirty minutes on the balance ball trying to sit-up and crunch my way to a less-fat belly.  I won't see results immediately and I'll be pissed off and assume I'm not doing it right.  I'm guessing I'll end up on the ball because it's freakin' cold outside - down to 25, I think is what the bank clock said when we passed it on the way home an hour ago.  25!  from 60-something yesterday!  It's so much easier to make working-out resolutions when the weather is mild.

Oh, and the smoking thing.  Eff My Life, I suck at having will-power.  I rationalized that I deserved it because it was a long road trip and going to see Brother was stressful and it would make me feel better.  And then the angel on my other shoulder was all "Shut the eff up dumbass, you know you're just making excuses and that you'll never actually quit if you keep rationalizing that cheating doesn't count, that you're still somehow 'quitting' if you're puffing along on 'just one'."  I hate it when that bitch talks sense.  So I smoked half a cigarette of Momma's.  It didn't even taste good.  There was no pleasant head-rush.  And then I felt like an asshole.

And I'm scared of the budget thing.  Let's just call a spade a spade; I'm scared to see the mess I've made and I don't want to face it and if I just bury my head in the sand and pretend it's no big deal eventually it won't be, right?  Right.  Jimi's going to the Gun Show tomorrow (with Steve!), so I guess I'll spend my alone-time tackling this long-standing member of the "things that scare me" list.  Conquering fears and all that jazz.  Yeah. Something like that.  Growing up and facing the music, more like it.

But personal growth is supposed to hurt, isn't it?  Isn't that how it goes - you do a bunch of shit that's miserable and unpleasant, be it working out or sticking to a budget or suffering through nicotine withdrawals, for what seems like an eternity at first, until it doesn't suck quite so much and then one day you look around and you're thinner and working out isn't so miserable and you've got all kinds of money in savings and you've raised your credit score a hundred points and you can breathe and taste and smell better.  Years of not doing the right things pile on top of each other and eventually the world is going to demand a reality check and some punitive damages.  I'm 30; losing weight, stopping smoking, getting my finances in order like a big girl - these are things that will only be harder to accomplish and cause more damage the longer I ignore them.  No time like the present.

On that note, if I exercise for an hour tomorrow, can I skip it tonight?

One last word before the year is finished...

We didn't go to the gun show.  (SCORE! - oops, did I say that out loud?)  Truthfully, though, I've only managed to postpone the inevitable - we're going on Sunday.

It was beautiful today - the temps got up over 60!  We decided to take advantage of the unseasonal warmth and took Finn to the dog park to run and play.  (I took pictures, but I'm still not used to my camera and so none of them are worth posting.)

  See?


 When we got home, Jimi went down for a nap and Finn and I took a nice long walk down Southern Parkway.  (Finn had gotten his exercise, but I'd not yet gotten mine.)  It sprinkled briefly a few times, but nothing substantial; the weather mostly just stayed awesome.  It still is.

Our party plans for the evening have been scrapped, as well.  (Act surprised, I dare ya!)  There was already one strike against the idea:  the simple fact of driving around on New Year's Night.  People are dumb and do dumb things a lot, but on nights like tonight, there's an extra dose of dumb in the air and on the roads.  Next, looks like Jimi's starting to get a cold, so there's strike two.  The beautiful weather is supposed to turn to shit right about the time we'd be leaving for home, so there's strike three.  And so I picked up some mixers and we'll have our own little celebration* at home.  Jimi apologized for letting me down.  I told him to stop being stupid; when given a choice, I'll always go for the option that allows me to not wear a bra.  Besides, I'll still get my kiss at midnight.

Tomorrow we're ringing in the new year with a visit to my brother.  I missed out last week, lame as it may be, because I was hung over and honestly didn't feel that I could make the 8 hour trip.  (3 hours down, 2 hours to visit, 3 hours home - too many hours)  I miss my brother.  It will be good to see him again, though I wish the circumstances were better.  His head seems to be in a good place, though, so perhaps things WILL work out for the best this time around.

I'll forever be the optimist.

I painted yesterday.  I'm going to do it again, maybe even tonight.  My problem is I don't know what in the hell to paint.  I'm not good enough to paint actual "things" - my pictures need to be abstract, or at the very least, an intentionally vague representation of the thing from which they're modeled.  Since I can't figure out what to paint, I decided I'll just paint anything.  Whatever shows up when I put the brush to the paper.  I'll figure out where I'm going with it eventually.  Right?  If not, I've already paid for all the supplies, years ago, so it's not like failure would actually cost me anything.

I think I mentioned I want things to put on the walls.  I've gotten on a kick, and the end result is going to mean me taking pictures of lots of things, having large prints made, then sticky-ing them up on the walls all over the house.  Who needs frames?  No frames means I can change them out more frequently.  (I'm sorry I'm so tacky.  I can't help it; it's part of the fabric of my being.)

I realized I left off my list of 2011 resolutions the biggest resolution of them all:  I'm really, actually, finally going to stop smoking, starting midnight tonight.  I've got 4 cigarettes left in my last pack, and they'll be gone by midnight, even if it means breaking them in half at the stroke of midnight.  I'm done with this monkey on my back; I'm done with the coughing, I'm done with spending the money, I'm done with stinking, I'm done with upping my risks of heart disease, heart attack, stroke, cancer, emphysema, infertility.  I never meant to start smoking in the first place, and for the first - oh, I don't know, 5 years? - I convinced myself I could quit at any time.  Then I started trying to quit and learned otherwise.  It's been 12 years.  That's too many years, and I don't want to spend another day as a smoker.

So there ya go.  I'll tattle on myself if I cheat, and I expect (please?!) that you will all give me holy hell each and every time I slip up.  I need to do this for me, but a little encouragement never hurt, you know?

I'm going to go fix another drink and smoke one of those last 4 smokes and watch this Trailer Park Boys movie Jimi's got on.  (Have you seen this shit?  It's ridiculous.)

Happy New Year, Friends!  

I hope 2011 is kind to you and yours, 

and brings you happiness and fulfillment in all things.  

*celebration = Sitting in front of the TV, watching Twilight Zone or something on Netflix, me on the computer, him curled up with the dog, the cat in front of the space heater.  But our cups will be full.  And love and happy will be in the air.  And then we'll set off bottle rockets at midnight and hopefully not set our neighbors' houses on fire.

You say you want a revolution?

Well, you know, all you're going to get is a few resolutions.

Next year, at this time, these are the things I hope to have accomplished:

1.  Set and live by a budget.  (GASP!  The Horror!)  Seriously, though, I need to get a handle on my finances and figure out exactly what's coming in and better monitor what's going out.  Maggie sent me her spreadsheets forever ago and I've not done a thing with them yet.  That changes this weekend.

2.  Build up savings.  Eventually, I'd like to have at least 6 months worth of expenses saved, but that's not realistically going to happen in 2011, unless I encounter some awesome unforeseen windfall.  I'll settle for adding at least $50 a week to my coffers for now. (And that does NOT mean putting in $50 on Friday and taking out $100 on Monday, Little Miss Spendthrift!)

3.  Get a handle on that laundry mess.  Grown people don't pile their clean clothes on a table.  Grown people fold their clothes and hang their clothes and match up their socks and put their clothes away so they can easily find their clothes so they don't have a fucking meltdown each morning as they're trying to figure out what they're going to wear for work.  I need to handle that.

4.  Speaking of household chores - keeping your rooms clean isn't too much to ask, really, is it?  RoomS, as in, all of them.  There's no reason I can't keep the house neat and tidy.  Again, grown people....

5.  I want to have a baby.  If I could pregnant right away and get the baby here by the end of 2011, that'd be great, but if not, could I at least by this time next year be pregnant with a baby I'll carry to term?  I won't mind if it takes a while for us to get one that's going to stick, just so long as we don't have to go through that horrible loss again; just so long as we can have one successful pregnancy.  Just one.  That's all I'm asking here.

6.  I want to be a better manager.  I want to be a better employee.  I want to make myself more valuable to my company, and in return, I want to make more money.

7.  I'm going to lose 50 pounds in 2011.  Unless I get pregnant, in which case, God help me, I'll probably gain 50 pounds, so my 2012 goal will be to lose 100 pounds.  How about I forget the number game and just vow to eat better and get at least 30 minutes of exercise every day?  That's gotta count for something.

8.  I will take a picture every day.  What I'll do with those pictures remains to be seen, but I want them.

9.  More crafts.  I need things to hang on the walls.  And to occupy my time.

10.  Volunteering - I'm going to do it.  I don't know what or where, but I have so much and I need to give back and I don't have any money so my time will have to do.

That's a lot of goals, right?  Not really, I guess.  I wonder how many I'll have forgotten about this time next week?