“Dick.”
“YOU’RE a dick.”
“I said ‘dink.’”
“Oh.”
“Why would I call you a dick?”
“I don’t know, because I’m NOT a dick. I’m delightful.”
“Some dicks are delightful, I’m sure.”
“Some actual dicks, maybe. Not euphemistic dicks.”
“That sounds cosmic.”
“Euphemistic Dicks. It’s your new band name.”
“Yup.”
“Yup.”
One of the items on my Life List is to read 100 fiction books. Another is to read 100 non-fiction books. In my younger years, I probably read 100 books every year without breaking a sweat. But then, you know, LIFE. Kids and jobs and sagging houses don’t leave much time for curling up with a novel and a cup of tea. Up until very recently, I’d been reading the same (short) book for over a year. But then I finished it! And then I started and finished another one! Look at me go!
Another Roadside Attraction – Tom RobbinsGrowing up, I spent summers at my dad’s house in rural southwestern Washington. There wasn’t a whole helluva lot going on, unless you count being woken up at 3:00 in the morning to cries of “Cows are out!” and spending the next hour rustling sleepy bovine off the road and back into the barn. Good times, that. To keep myself entertained in between cattle rescues, I would snag whatever book my dad had recently finished reading and lazily wander my way through its pages. This is how I was introduced to the likes of Douglas Adams and Tom Robbins. Because my dad was awesome. BUT, he did not hang onto books and so whatever tale I’d begun reading was likely to be gone by my next visit. This explains why I’ve read the first half of pretty much everything Tom Robbins has ever written, but the last halves of only a few masterpieces (Jitterbug Perfume, I’m looking at you). Such was the case with Another Roadside Attraction. Now that I’ve finally read the whole thing, I can share a few of my favorite parts:
“You risked your life, but what else have you ever risked? Have you risked disapproval? Have you ever risked economic security? Have you ever risked a belief? I see nothing particularly courageous about risking one’s life. So you lose it, you go to your hero’s heaven and everything is milk and honey ’til the end of time. Right? You get your reward and suffer no earthly consequences. That’s not courage. Real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change and stretch consciousness. Real courage is risking one’s clichés.”
“The scientist keeps the romantic honest, and the romantic keeps the scientist human.”
“The only authority I respect is the one that causes butterflies to fly south in fall and north in springtime.”
Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir – Jenny LawsonI’ll be honest: I didn’t love this book. I do love Jenny Lawson, and I’ve read her blog for years. Blog? Yes! Book? Meh. It was the pacing for me, I think. Getting a little taste of The Bloggess a post or two at a time is great. Getting an entire book all at once with the stream of conscious tangents and the exaggerations and the ALL CAPS, VICTOR!! was just a little… much. That said, I did laugh out loud more than once while reading it – sometimes in public places – and that’s definitely worth something.
There’s also the matter of Chapter 2. Jenny’s “schtick” is that she’s a little crazy. Though, I’m not sure if it counts as a schtick if, in fact, one actually IS a little crazy. Regardless, in the 2nd chapter, Ms. Lawson lists out 11 things that she’s identified as key differences between her childhood and those of, you know, “normal” people. I read all the way to #5 (“most people don’t have live raccoons in the house”) before I found one that didn’t match my own childhood. But then I remembered that we did have a lot of rats and, of particular note, a big hole in my bedroom ceiling through which they would fall in the middle of the night… onto my bed… which was placed directly beneath the hole because, I guess, my step-mom hated me? (Well, that’s not fair. If she hated me, she wouldn’t have “fixed” the rat hole by tacking a kitty poster over the top of it to serve as a falling-rat catcher. That’s real love right there, folks.) But we didn’t raise our vermin in our bathtub or dress them in tiny people clothes, so in comparison our over-bed kitty poster rat catcher seems totally sane. Anyway, there were maybe 3 of the eleven that hadn’t happened to me too – and for each of those 3, I had a version of “Oh yeah? Well I bet at your house you didn’t use puddles of dog saliva to ward off infections, DID YOU?” Basically what I’m saying here is that by page 20, Jenny had convinced me that I’m probably just as nuts as she is. Not that that’s bad, exactly, it just makes me feel like a slacker for not having figured out how to turn my crazy into a career like she has.
My biggest problem with this book is that I don’t know whether it counts as one of my 100 fiction or non-fiction books. Initially I counted it on the fiction side, because when I was making my Life List I’d expected that my non-fiction books would be hard science or philosophy or, at least, how-to type books. You know, the learny kind of non-fiction. But it is a memoir, which technically means I should not file it under fiction. But, it says “mostly true” right in the title. Which means, for those of you who struggle with logic, that some of it is not true. She claims the ambiguous title is a brilliant disclaimer necessary to keep herself from getting sued, but I think it’s really her machiavellian way of messing with librarians, and book sellers, and people who have book lists. THE FUCK, JENNY?!*
*In fairness, I could be over-thinking here.
“LOOK HOW CLEAN THE PORCH IS!”
Note: This is not my porch, but it should be.
He walks in the house after a long day (long week, long month) at work, probably only three-quarters of the way awake and all four-quarters of the way ready to collapse in a pile on the couch. I am certain he doesn’t care about the porch in the least. But it is clean – something it has not been in at least four years – and it needs to be recognized for its awesomeness.
“I swept!”
There. Surely that little nugget of information will pique his interest. For I have used a BROOM, people! ON THE OUTSIDE PARTS.
“Mmmm,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I noticed…” He dutifully turns back to look out the window, keeping one wary eye on me.
Not surprisingly, he is not particularly impressed. It’s just a standard porch, after all, now with slightly less dirt. And recently scrubbed furniture. And sparkling windows that can actually be used to look through. And cleared of two mildewed strollers, two skateboards, a helmet, and assorted Legos (but still hosting one bike).
I rattle all this off, not because I think he cares but because I’m maybe a little delerious from the combined 7 hours of house cleaning and yard work. I spend the rest of the evening pointing out other accomplishments. “I weeded!” “I scrubbed mildew from strollers!” “I organized the pantry!”
And this, in a nutshell, is what I’ve been up to since resigning my post as EveryMove‘s Community Manager. For the first time in my adult life, I am intentionally unemployed. The plan was to take a sabbatical of sorts before beginning studies toward a yoga teaching certificate. But I’ve never been able to relax in a messy house.* (Some people would say I’ve never been able to relax, period. Those people are correct. And wrong. Getting shit done relaxes me, so there.) And this house? This house has not had a proper cleaning since before my youngest was born. My youngest is nearly 3-years-old. That’s a lot of not improper cleaning. Don’t tell my mom.
*Also, for the record, I can’t relax in MY messy house. But I am excellent at relaxing in other people’s messy houses. So, go ahead! Invite me over. Pour me a glass of wine. I will relax LIKE A BOSS amidst your dust and clutter.
Anyway, I am doing a terrible job of getting around to my point, which is this: I had hoped to begin blogging in earnest again during my “sabbatical.” However, given the current hyper focus of my efforts on spring cleaning, I’m not sure I’ll have much to report for the foreseeable future. Unless “I SWEPT!” is worth more than one blog post. Which it totally could be because brooms are awesome.
If you spend any amount of time at all on “green” blogs, what I’m about to say will likely come as no surprise to you. Otherwise, I find that the following statement can come as quite a shock: I wash my face with oil. A combination of olive and castor oils, to be precise. It’s generally referred to as the Oil Cleaning Method (OCM) and, in my humble opinion, it’s kind of freaking amazing. And it can work for all skin types. Even oily. Even acne-prone.
Contrary to popular belief, oil isn’t bad for your skin. In fact, it’s good. Your skin needs it. It produces its own, called sebum. When we strip sebum away with cleansers, our skin responds by producing more – sometimes much more – and a vicious cycle is born. But it’s not oil that causes blemishes. Hormones, bacteria, dead skin cells, and diet (and probably some other things I’m not aware of) are the true culprits behind those pimples, black heads, and acne.
So trust me. You must not fear the oil. But you shouldn’t leave it sitting on your face once it gets old and full of that bacteria and dead skin we were talking about earlier. And how do you gently remove dirty oil from your face, if not with oil-fighting cleansers? With more oil. (“Like dissolves like.” You learned that in high school chemistry.)
There are several variations of OCM, but the most common – and where most people start before moving on to their own special mix – is a combination of olive oil and castor oil. Castor oil is the cleansing of the two oils, with powerful antibacterial properties. A little goes a long way, though, and it can actually dry your skin if you use too much. Olive oil is mixed in to thin the thicker castor oil, and to serve as a moisturizer.
The ratio of olive to castor oil depends on your skin type, but here are some good starting points:
To use, pour a small amount of your special mix into the palm of your hand. A dollop about the size of a quarter should do. Rub it together between the palms of your hands and then apply it to your dry face, massaging gently as you go. Continue this for a minute or two (or less, if you’re like me and always in a hurry). Wet a wash cloth in very warm water and place it over your face. Let it sit for a moment to “steam” your pores (or not, if you’re still like me and always in a hurry) and then wipe (don’t scrub) your face with the cloth to gently remove the majority of the oil. You may need to rewet the washcloth and wipe again. You’ll probably be able to feel a thin layer of oil still on your face at this point. That’s good – it’ll act as a moisturizer. If you need more moisturizer, you can apply a very small amount of the olive oil after washing. Don’t be surprised, though, if you don’t need it. I almost never moisturize with OCM.
And, voila! Clean and hydrated skin using just two all-natural ingredients.
For most people, washing once a day with OCM is enough (you don’t want to over-cleanse your skin). Most people prefer to work it into their evening beauty routines, especially since it’s so great at removing makeup. I don’t wear makeup and I don’t like not washing my face in the morning, so I prefer to wash with OCM during my morning shower. There’s not really a right answer here. Just go with whatever works best with your usual routine.
And that’s it, folks! All (or at least most) of the information you need to try out OCM on your own beautiful faces. Good luck!
My dad died nearly 12 years ago. Today is his birthday. A milestone year, this one – it would’ve been his 60th. The funny thing about aging after you die is that you don’t. No matter how many more birthdays he has, my dad will always be 48. And someday in the not-so-distant future, I will catch up to him. We will both be 48, together, for a year. And then, with any luck, I will spend many, many years being older than my father. Trippy.
My (young) old man, circa 1976
I had intended to write a lovely little birthday post in his honor, but I just don’t have it in me. He’s gone. I miss him. What more is there to say?
Instead, I’ll leave you with a simple list; just a few things he would’ve taught you if you’d been lucky enough to be his daughter:
I hope you read all the way to the end. That last one is super important.
I’m still surprised that my kids gobble up kale chips. My toddler has a delightfully refined palate, relatively speaking, but generally turns up his nose at green leafies. And my tween would prefer to subsist on a strict diet of burritos and scrambled eggs. And yet, whenever he realizes that kale chips are on the menu, he dances a little jig and says something along the lines of “Oooh, I like those things! At first. Unless they’re in my mouth too long ’cause then they get a weird flavor.”
And that’s why it’s so surprising. Kale chips have a distinct flavor (and they do have a bit of an aftertaste). And while that distinct flavor isn’t bad (quite good, I’d say), it certainly would not be described as anything even remotely like “sour cream and onion” or “cool ranch” or “nacho cheese” – and yet, my kids (and, seemingly, children everywhere) love ‘em. Go figure. Some crunch and a bit of salt go a long way, I guess.
The recipe below is for basic salted kale chips, and can easily be expanded on to include the seasonings of your choice. I’ve made it using both lacinato (or “dino”) and curly kale, though I suspect just about any variety at the store would work. The tween and I prefer the curly kale, which bakes into a lighter, crunchier, sweeter chip (but is easier to overcook) than lacinato. The man of the house, however, prefers lacinato, finding it to be the less bitter of the two. Because he is crazy, clearly. At any rate, either variety will work and you can decide for yourselves which is the least bitter. (Curly.)
Ingredients:
Preheat oven to 350. Separate the leaves of the kale from the tough center stem, and tear into bite-sized pieces. Rinse in cold water. Dirt can get trapped in the curls of the leaves, so be thorough. Leave in a collender to dry.
Or stick it in a lettuce spinner and let your toddler go to town.
(I usually wash the kale before I start the rest of my dinner and let it drip dry for a while as I prep the rest of the meal.)
Press the leaves between paper towels to soak up any remaining water. They don’t have to be completely dry, but it definitely helps with the crispness of the resulting chips.
(Disregard any carrots that may appear on your cutting board. They have nothing to do with your kale chips.)
Place the kale in a large bowl and drizzle with enough olive oil to coat the leaves. Toss the leaves with your hands to ensure even distribution. Add more oil, if needed (but they shouldn’t be sopping in it).
Spread them in a single layer on a cookie sheet. Parchment paper is helpful for cleaning up after, but not necessary. Don’t crowd the kale. I usually find that I need to do two batches per bunch of kale.
Bake for about 10 – 20 minutes until crisp, depending on your oven. I start checking at about minute eight. Keep an eye on them. You want them crisp but not browned – they’ll start to bitter up as they brown. Remove from the oven when crisp and transfer to serving bowl. Sprinkle with salt to taste and serve. (Or put into a warming drawer while you bake up a second batch.)
(Disregard any chopped spinach that appears on your cutting board. Much like the carrots before it, it also has nothing to do with your kale chips.)
Add additional seasonings if you’d like. I usually also sprinkle our chips with a bit of parmesan cheese, if there’s any in the house. Try other seasonings at your whim. Some onion or garlic powder or fancy infused salts might be nice.
Enjoy with your family. They’re great as a healthy snack, or as a nutritious side dish.
Ed: This turned into a crazy long post. If you just want to skip my delightful intro and jump straight to the recipe, I won’t mind. I mean, I kind of will. But I’ll get over it after a good cry.
I’ve spent the last week or so bragging about my deodorant on Facebook. Which, presumably, is precisely what Zuckerberg had in mind when he set about creating his now famed social network: “I shall create a platform from which a person can describe the aroma of her pits to all of her friends, ex-boyfriends, and a couple dozen people she doesn’t even remember going to high school with – ALL AT THE SAME TIME.” And all the investors were like, “How has civilization survived this long without a mechanism through which ex-boyfriends can learn the armpit status of their former lovers?! Here’s a bazillion dollars, Zuck.”
And now you have no reason to finally get around to watching The Social Network, because I just spoiled the ending for you.
But back to my deodorant. Making a homemade batch was on my Life List (dream big, Kell!), and I decided to make it my #BeGreen resolution for 2013. Why? Because many commercially produced deodorants (even the “all natural” hippie ones) contain a lot of crap, and I do my best to avoid rubbing crap straight onto my organs (skin, remember, is the body’s largest organ). Crap like:
(And then there are antiperspirants with their aluminum, but I swore off those a long time ago.)
I was a little worried about switching to homemade because I am no delicate sweater and, I dunno, I guess I just figured Tom’s had some secret ingredient or something. (On further inspection I see that Tom’s contains propylene glycol, a common skin irritant. That’s not exactly the kind of “secret ingredient” I had in mind, TOM.)
Turns out, my homemade stuff works WAY better than any store-bought deodorant I’ve ever tried. But before I recommended it to all my friends, I wanted to be sure – so I subjected my all naturally deodorized pits to a series of field tests. In other words, I tried to make myself stink. This stuff held up to intense workouts, too much coffee, skipped showers, my favorite pit-hugging (sweat-inducing) sweater – and that one day that I skipped a shower AND drank too much coffee AND wore a pit-hugging shirt AND finished it all off with an intense workout.
No joke.
In fact, at no point during the two weeks that I’ve been using this magical concoction have I smelled anything on myself that would be considered B.O. Even on the worst days, I’d put myself more in the category of “pheromone musk” than “body odor.”
So. Maybe you’d like the recipe? Of course you would.
There are a whopping four ingredients in this recipe (five, if you opt to add essential oils), several of which you probably already have in your pantry. We’ll use baking soda for its odor eating powers, arrowroot powder to thicken the mixture and absorb moisture, corn starch for a bit of an antiperspirant effect, and coconut oil for its antibacterial, antifungal, antiviral, and moisturizing properties (and to bind the whole mess together).
INGREDIENTS
You’ll also need a large bowl for mixing and a clean jar or other container with a lid.
PREPARATION (as demonstrated by a meddling toddler)
In a large bowl, combine baking soda, arrowroot powder, and corn starch.
Add in coconut oil and use a fork to blend it into the other ingredients. It’ll turn into a crumbly mess, like so:
If desired, add in essential oil(s). Many people like to use tea tree or lavender oils for their added antibacterial effects. I don’t care for the medicinal scent of tea tree and I’m wildly allergic to lavender, so I used ylang ylang. All essential oils have some antimicrobial effects (though some more so than others) and the coconut oil is an antimicrobial as well – so, I’d recommend selecting the essential oils based on scent preference rather than medicinal concerns.
Using clean hands, gently “knead” your mixture until the coconut oil is evenly distributed. (Or continue with the fork if you’d rather; I found hands to be more effective at this point.) Add more coconut oil or baking soda to adjust consistency, if needed. You’re going for something moist enough to stick together, but dry enough to be a solid. If you can form it into a non-gooey snowball, you’re on the right track:
Stick it in the clean container of your choosing. I used an old jelly jar. I know some people use cleaned-out store-bought deodorant sticks, but remember that coconut oil begins to liquify at 76 degrees. This doesn’t ruin the deodorant, but I’ve heard woeful tales of glorious messes leaking from the bottoms of reused deodorant containers.
Muck about in the mess before your mother has a chance to clean it up.
That last step is super important according to my toddler.
TO USE
With clean hands, scoop out a small amount of deodorant. I use a dollop about the size of a dime. Let it sit in the palm of your hand for a moment to warm and become more “spreadable.” Apply half to each armpit, rubbing it in like a lotion. Do a quick mirror check to make sure you don’t have any visible smudges of deodorant, and you’re done!
This recipe makes enough to last about 5 or 6 months. Coconut oil has a shelf-life of two years, so there’s little worry of spoilage (unless you use old coconut oil at the start, obviously).
A Few Additional Notes:
If you try this recipe, let me know how it works for you. Or maybe you have your own recipe to share? There are countless other natural deodorant recipes out on those magical internets if this one doesn’t work for you. Or, if you’re not much of a do-it-yourselfer, you can always check EWG’s database to learn about the safety of the ingredients in your favorite store-bought brand.
Full disclosure time: Despite what the title of this post might suggest, I did not spend the entirety of 2012 in the nude. No one is more disappointed in that fact than yours truly.
My little one more than made up for my own lack of nudity
I did, however, spend the entirety of 2012 abstaining from buying any new clothes. (Well, except for that super gay t-shirt I bought. More on that in a minute.)
This is something that’s been on my Life List for some time; a project I wanted to undertake as a conscious and deliberate practice of reducing resource consumption. The idea, specifically, was to avoid buying new clothes and consuming new resources. Reusing and recycling (which, in this case, translates to thrifting) was allowed. As were a few other things. You can read the exceptions I made for myself in my original No New Clothes post, and see most of what I ended up purchasing over the year here. In addition to what’s shown in that post, I also bought two more used pairs of jeans (one to be made into a pair of cut offs, the other to replace the first pair of used jeans that immediately sprung a hole in the ass), two used embellished tees, and a vintage wedding dress. All fell within my rules, until…
That damned gay t-shirt. There was something of an historic election in Washington, with several big issues I felt pretty passionate about. The biggest of the big (in my humble opinion) was marriage equality, and I felt certain that I needed to have a sign in my yard proclaiming my support. I felt equally certain that the cost of shipping said sign was crazy high, and so I threw a campaign t-shirt in with my order. Somehow, shipping two items for that crazy high price seemed better than shipping only one. And thus, without even thinking about it, I bought a piece of NEW clothing. Fast forward to November after the initiative passed (WOOT!), and you’ll find me excitedly ordering myself a celebratory sweatshirt (it says “Love Wins” and has the outline of Washington state on it). I was drunk on victory and joy, people. I didn’t even think.
I can not believe I managed to stay true to this project EVEN WHEN IT CAME TO MY WEDDING DRESS, only to botch it on lousy campaign gear. Now, finally, there is something legitimate for which to blame The Gays.
Still, I am claiming the project a success. Those were not new shirts I bought; they were new political statements. Totally different.
[Sigh.]
At any rate, I didn’t want to leave this project in the dust without taking a moment to reflect on a year without (sort of) clothes. Here’s what stands out:
Biggest Challenge
Timing! My wardrobe was already in pretty bad shape heading into the challenge. It needed serious updating back in 2009… but then I got pregnant and so all the “updating” that occurred included elastic waistbands. Then there was the nearly two years of nursing that followed (you’re welcome, kid) and the wrong-sized boobs that go with it. All this to say that by the time last year rolled around, I was already limping along a limited wardrobe of worn out and ill-fitting clothes. Nothing like adding a little extra challenge to my challenge.
Biggest Craving
Clothes that FIT. (See above.) I didn’t even care if I liked them, I just wanted clothes that fit me properly. That said, I was pretty desperate for jeans by the end.
Biggest Help
Temptation removal. Every time I got a sales email or a catalog in the mail, I took a minute to remove myself from their mailing list. No more Rusche emails. No more Anthropologie catalogs. It was a lot harder to want things that I didn’t know existed.
Biggest (Practical) Lesson
I don’t have time to thrift. Heading into this challenge, I imagined glorious days spent digging through used clothes at various second-hand stores and consignment shops. Of course, in none of these daydreams did the reality of a toddler feature prominently. Thrifting is something that I adore, but something that requires a certain amount of patience and a certain lack of small children dangling from one’s waist. It’s just not something I can fit in right now. And that’s why Etsy is my friend.
Biggest Surprise
I was prepared to give myself a small celebratory shopping spree last month after making it through the year without any new clothes. I marched myself right into Anthropologie (my one true love) and didn’t find a single thing I wanted. Shocking, no? More than that, the racks of multiple sizes of the same garment seemed… I don’t know… unnatural? I’d grown accustomed to the “one of a kind” appeal of vintage, and the “sameness” of Anthropologie felt foreign. I have no doubt that Anthropologie and I shall fall in love again, but in the meantime I ended up rewarding myself for a year of no new clothes by buying more old clothes. These shoes, to be precise.
Biggest Takeaway
I already have everything I need. I knew that, of course, going into the challenge. But knowing it and living it are different things. That’s not to say that I don’t like and want new clothes (or new vintage clothes, to be more specific), nor is that to say that wanting them is a bad thing. But want and need are not the same thing.
Biggest Confession
Now that this challenge is over, I am very much looking forward to shopping. I’ve already started, in fact. I bought two new pairs of jeans as soon as I could (I was down to precisely ZERO jeans that fit or weren’t riddled with holes in inappropriate places). I’ve got much needed underwear on the way, and bras are pretty high on the priority list (I currently only own one bra that properly fits my post-nursing boobs, which means that I’ve been wearing it pretty much non-stop for almost a year now). I also bought a (vintage) coat to replace a jacket that bit the dust last year, and a pair of (vintage) lace-up knee-high boots, and the (vintage) pumps I mentioned earlier. So, mini spree as soon as my shopping embargo was lifted? You betcha! BUT, I’m keeping it (mostly) limited to replacing items that I should’ve replaced long ago.
What’s Next?
My wardrobe shall continue to embrace the four Rs: reduce, reuse, repair, recycle. In this case that means buying less over all, buying 2nd hand whenever possible, mending what I already have, finding new uses for (or donating) any clothing that permanently exists my closet. In other words, while I’m lifting my new clothes embargo, I still intend to limit new purchases to the truly needed – or the truly special treat.
Happy New Year from Seattle (photo by Great Beyond)
I have a love/hate relationship with resolutions. I love them because I love making lists. I hate them because I love checking things off my glorious lists. And my resolutions lists? There’s not usually a whole lot of checking off happening.
Still, I like having an idea of what I want to accomplish in any given year (or month, or week, or day, for that matter). It seems an especially important act of reflection at the dawn of 2013, since I felt overwhelmed and exhausted for most of 2012. I didn’t do a very good job of staying focused on my FreeTime Priorities, and I want to change that in the coming year. With that in mind, I’ve made one resolution for each of my priorities – some big, some small. Wish me luck!
Eat Food
We’re a whole foods kind of family and, for the most part, we’re pretty good at it. But this year my toddler’s nap schedule started to interfere with my dinner-making schedule, and we ended up ordering in more than I’d like.
Resolved: Limit take out to once per week.
Be Green
I’m just coming off a year of not buying any new clothes (more on that successful 2012 resolution later), so I’m going super easy on this year’s green goal.
Resolved: Make a batch of homemade deodorant. Bye bye, Tom’s.
Make Stuff
I have a list a mile long of things I’ve been wanting to make.
Resolved: Pick one of those things and just make it already!
Get Out
See a movie. Have drinks with friends. Go to a concert. Attend the theatre. (I spelled it the fancy British way so I’ll remember to wear heels.) And do it all without children in tow.
Resolved: Have (at least) one adults-only outing every month.
Read Books
I used to read at least two books a month. I’m pretty sure I’ve been reading the same two books for two years. I am not okay with this pace.
Resolved: FINISH reading two fiction books and one non-fiction book.
Learn Stuff
I have never opened a bottle of champagne. Why? The cork comes out with an audible pop. An AUDIBLE pop. Describe to me anything more terrifying.
Resolved: Learn to open a bottle of champagne, for chrissakes.
Get Involved
I am currently serving as the Legislative Chair for the PTA of my son’s elementary school. I chose to take on this role during an election year. I am a little burnt out. But there are more big things ahead, like tracking Washington State’s revised education budget efforts in response to the successful lawsuit (against the state) requiring a correction to years of inadequate funding. And the demonstration at the capitol. And Washington State PTA’s response to the NRA’s call to arm teachers. And so on and so on and so on.
Resolved: I shall finish out my term strong.
Raise Citizens
My toddler needs new songs to sing. I will teach some to him. Ones with lots of silly hand gestures. (Yes. Singing with my children is part of making them good citizens. Duh.) My 5th grader needs to do some service work. With the addition of the toddler two years ago, our charitable activities devolved into simple check writing. We made snowflakes for Sandy Hook a few days ago, and it reminded me that I need to do more active charitable work with him.
Resolved: Teach toddler new songs. Identify a charitable project that requires the kid to roll up his sleeves and get his hands dirty (figuratively or literally).
Get Fit
I spent a lot of time writing about fitness in 2012 (for EveryMove, which you should check out if you haven’t already). Turns out, writing about it is not the best way to stay in shape. Who new? 2012 showed me one possible future, and that future is called Mom Butt. I do not like that future. Instead, 2013 will be about Wedding Butt and Naked Butt (see “Lighten Up,” below).
Resolved: Three workouts/week, with one of those ideally being a yoga class.
Life List
I had intended to pick something fun off my Life List, but then I remembered item #19. Not fun, but LONG overdue. This is the result of having shitty health insurance for so many years.
Resolved: Go to the dentist. Bonus points for also going to the gynecologist, dermatologist, and optometrist.
Lighten Up
I sort of committed to get naked and ride my bike through the streets of Seattle. I don’t know if I can get much more lightened up than that.
Resolved: Ride in the Fremont Solstice Parade. Yeah, the naked part.
Have you made any resolutions for the year?
This afternoon while the toddler napped, my 11-year-old and I shared the last of the Christmas rootbeer and snipped bits of paper into festive snowflakes.
Except they weren’t very festive.
For one thing, our paper was too thick and our scissors too dull. The resulting flakes will most likely be described as awkward. Festive would be generous. But perfection was not the point. We made them for the students of Sandy Hook Elementary. It was an act of remembrance for those who lost their lives, yes. But it was also an act of compassion for those who didn’t; those who will be returning to school in January missing 26 from their community.
The National PTA and Connecticut PTSA are asking for help in creating a winter wonderland for the students of Sandy Hook, who will soon be returning to school in a new building. Parent volunteers will be decorating the halls of the school with as many unique snowflakes as possible. To contribute, make and send your snowflakes to the address below by January 12, 2013.
Connecticut PTSA
60 Connolly Parkway
Building 12, Suite 103
Hamden, CT 06514
Financial donations are also being accepted.
