What’s Your Name, Mommy?

I am not a fan of resolutions.  Too much pinky swearing I’ll follow through and three days later I’m smoking crack topless in an el Camino.  I’m kidding of course.  It’s way too cold to smoke crack topless. This hatred of resolutions in no way keeps me from making mini-promises to myself as the year draws to an end, even as I admit that they are more like ‘let this be the year that I…’ than ‘this year I’m going to…’

Without further ado, here is my list of things to work on this year:

1. Eating less meat.  I love meat, I really do, but I got really lazy over the last year with the non-meat eating and I want to get back to once or twice a week.
2. Getting into some semblance of shape.  And not like I usually do (last Thursday) with the working on every part of my body and waking up in agony.  Proper-like this time.
3. Learning the bass.  I like playing around on it, and I want to keep doing it.  I need to not get frustrated when I can’t bust out like John Paul Jones, because really, I’m a 33 year old picking up an instrument for the first time since piano in junior high.
4. Getting published.  I was doing well with the sending out there for a minute, and now I have a piece sitting around collecting dust.  Not good, Jen.  Send it out again and again and again, and if it doesn’t fit anywhere, write something new.
5. Finishing the short story I started.  ‘Nuff said.
6. Find a career path and pursue it.  Whether I stick with the doula idea or go back to the copyediting one, I need to do something.

And then there are the hard and fast, resolution-like deals which I hesitate to mention because I have this jinx-like mentality that makes me feel like I’m screwed as soon as I say them out loud.  The big one is quitting smoking.  I hate that I smoke so much that I haven’t mentioned it very much online.  C and I are quitting for the New Year, and this simply has to be done.  The last time I tried (outside of pregnancy), I had a major breakdown, and I’m really really scared.  The other one is easier, but not really any less important since a fair chunk of last year was pretty hard in my marriage.  I need to remember that C and I are on the same team, no matter how much little things get to me and frustrate me.  I really do love him and I am lucky to have him, even when we’re driving each other crazy.  This last will be especially important as the two of us are cranking up a storm with the quitting smoking, and if I start bitching excessively, I’ll need a bitchslap.

That, my friends, is that.  I wish all of y’all a wonderful end of ’06 and look forward to seeing you in ’07!

Read Full Post »

Still recovering from the Xmess hysteria, but making some real progress, finally.  After a mini-panic attack on Tuesday about the state of the apartment (which was actually because of a death in the family but it took me an hour to figure that out because I’m quick like that) I buckled down yesterday and at least got Lucy’s room under control.

Does anyone else have anxiety about the sheer amount of *stuff* they own?  I was boxing up Lucy’s old toys and trying to find a place to store them, and my closet made me want to cry, her closet made me want to cry, our storage closet made me want to cry…I don’t feel like we consume a ton of stuff, but our space tells me different.  Maybe it’s just the season.  I think today I’m going to take apart Lucy’s closet and get the old car seat and strollers out of the way and bag up some old coats and stuff from the hall closet.  We never even go in there so there must be stuff I can donate someplace.  I don’t know if it’s the approaching New Year or if I’ve just reached my peak tolerance for crap, but this stuff has to go.  I’m trying not to let it really get to me, but I’m tired of looking around the apartment and feeling totally overwhelmed.

Read Full Post »