I'm Your Candy Girl

I think we can all agree that the days of "relaxing" on a vacation are kaput once the babies arrive. The only breaks I had in Colorado were when little man was napping or asleep for the night. (Since J was not with us - he was at a conference in Seattle - I read. Oh, and it was glorious.)

But if I cannot relax on vacation as per usual, I can certainly reassess my life's goals, goddamnit. As with every sojourn away from home, I returned to Dallas with renewed purpose. This time, I decided to do something once and for all about my health.

Bob Greene (Oprah's "brother" and fitness guru) said earlier this year: "When you are motivated, you are out of excuses." Word, Bob. And when you have a young'un, you have a million excuses, not least of which is: I'm really fucking tired right now and I deserve this king-sized Snickers bar. Bitch.

I'm still about ten-ish pounds away from wedding weight, five pounds from pre-baby poundage. This is not the end of the world, and I feel pretty good. Unfortunately, my clothes are just ever-so-slightly too snug. You know the feeling? Oh for sure, I can button those jeans, but beware the muffin top. And I can squeeze into this sleeveless shirt from 09, but it is really pinching my wobbly arm bits.

We're a one-income family now, with a large mortgage and graduate school and an electricity bill that I opened a few days ago and said: "Wait. This must be two months of energy, right?" New clothes are just not an option right now, save the occasional top I buy at Target that falls apart after three washings.

So my mission: she is clear.

I have to get back to my fighting weight.

If there is one thing I love in this life, it is vodka JJ Abrams Coach Oprah Snickers sugar. And so I first decided to assess this addiction. I eat sweets constantly, particularly if I am feeling blue or bored or it's a day of the week. Recently, Hendrik and I ran out to Target and I returned home with a Snickers bar AND a Toblerone. I gobbled up the candy in 3 minutes flat. I did not feel good afterwards.

Lately, it's been ice cream and chocolate and caramel corn and chocolate and Heath bar on my Tasti D-Lite and chocolate. I have several frequent buyer cards stamped at the Marble Stone Creamery, and my mom left behind a wake of Twizzlers and M&Ms. In Colorado, my Far-Mor put sugar on fruit and fed me incredible pound cake and homemade whipped cream, as well as a steady supply of Dove chocolates.

Yet the scale hasn't budged. Imagine!

Aside from the L-Bs, I believe sugar may be a carcinogen. For sure, it causes a plethora of health issues (hello, diabetes). There is no nutritional value, only potential detriment. To this end, when someone tries to give it to Hank, I tend to react like they have offered him arsenic.

No, I am not cutting out all sugar (it's virtually impossible and I still want to have some fun), but I am looking very closely at my intake. I remembered hearing on one of those PBS infomercials that you should max out at 16g of sugar daily. To put this into perspective, my hazelnut coffee creamer has 9g in 2 tablespoons. One teaspoon of sugar = 4 grams.

I relaxed my standards a bit when I read that most docs recommend you do not exceed 32g daily, or 8 teaspoons.

Oh! And I rejoiced when I learned that most red wine has about .96g per 5 ounces. BOO YEAH.

It's been going well. I've been tracking my intake for a week now, and the highest I've gone is 34 grams. Most days I average 24. I dare you to start tracking your own intake. One tiny Nature's Path granola bar has 15 grams of sugar. This new focus is rocking my world.

My other health/fitness resolutions?

1. Get thee to the gym, at least 3 times per week. This is based on monetary concerns, because cash rules everything around me, y'all. I can't justify a $50 monthly expense unless I get my ass there. The fitness? Just a bonus. I've been taking Hendrik to the Kid's Club, which is wonderful for him. It gives him some independent time with other kids - and other adults - and he seems to really enjoy it. I've also been to several Sunday morning yoga classes, and I'm actually thrilled with the caliber of the practice there. I can't afford a studio right now, but I am very pleased with the instructors at LA Fitness. We've also been walking outside before 10 AM, at which time all Texans must be inside, lest your face melt off in the 120 degree temps. (Another post, my pets.)



2. Drink 64 ounces of water daily. I suck at this. But I am trying.



3. Cut out the booze. Did I tell you J got me a wine fridge? Slid it right into the kitchen where the trash compactor used to be. It is unspeakably awesome, yet lends itself to one to two glasses of pinot noir daily. For now, I'm saving vino for the weekends. So far, so good.



4. Take vitamins. Multi, calcium, D - what up??



5. Eat at least five servings of fruits and vegetables daily. You know when you really want a starchy carb or a pint of Ben and Jerry's? I have been reaching for cucumbers and celery with hummus instead. It sucks, and it makes me very cranky at first; but then I realize I am doing something good for my body, my health, and my son. And then it makes me only slightly less stabby.

Jada Pinkett Smith said in this month's Redbook (BTW, I don't remember subscribing to Redbook. It justs keeps coming every month and I keep reading. I think they just know I am over 30 and married with children and thus subscription is mandatory.) that for her, "food is fuel." I really like that. It forces me to ask myself what will nourish my body and make it work better? when all I long to do is curl up with a jar of Nutella and a spoon.

What about you all? Do you monitor your sugar intake? Any fitness resolutions this summer? And do you read and/or like Redbook? Do tell.

We Ain't in Undergrad Anymore, Baby.

Amidst a very hectic summer schedule of houseguests; travel (flying to Colorado on Saturday); playdates; a renewed gym membership; and furiously texting my sister Cat re: our slightly unhealthy So You Think You Can Dance obsession, I've got grad school orientation tonight, y'all!

I have been enthusiastically looking forward to this moment for months, ever since I learned I was accepted to business school. I am thrilled to be pursuing a graduate degree. I am overjoyed to have a serious adult outlet. I am approaching schooling as a new business venture. I've been waking at 5:30 AM to enjoy the peace of the morning and to indoctrinate myself into the ways of rousing early to complete coursework. (Squee! Coursework!) I feel invigorated that though there is a cost at present, I will eventually be contributing monetarily to our family again.

Most of all?

I am excited about the shoes.

Mah shoes, guys.

I have no cause to wear four-inch heels around the house, whilst I am chasing a rambunctious nearly-14 month-old babe. On weekends, it's about 567 degrees here, so even if J and I do score a night out sans babe, you will catch me in straight flats (oh, I will also rock the flops, but I try not to make a habit of that in the evenings. I am unspeakably fancy.)

I showered and blew dry my hair this morning. and then threw on a pair of ripped jeans and a black tank. I briefly wondered if these jeans would be appropriate for tonight's event. (This happens when it has been eons since you attended an event labeled "business casual".) And then: an epiphany!

My business clothes!

I am in business school. I am an adult. (I am 29, after all.) I own a home in a respectable suburb. Today I decided I would attempt to get involved in a community board, for fuck's sake.

I can wear my beautiful business clothes to business school. I can make like the other part-timers who are rushing to class from uber-demanding day jobs. No one has to know that my current occupation involves poop and My Gym and Mom's League.

Ladies and gents: HomeValley's back, and she's better than evah.

Now, where did I put my Spanx?

All Good Things

Obvs it's been a little loco here lately. We've been busy with house showings, moving preparations, social engagements, luncheons, Gymboree, and banging our heads on coffee tables (wait, no, that's just Hendrik).

(Hendrik, who is currently "napping" or, more precisely, "trying to scale the crib to make a break for it.")

(Ah, kids.)

Anyway, all of this beautiful chaos has led to some very definite resolution-keeping from your lady-friend over here in Iladelph.

Friends, this year's resolution was a simple/vague one: All Good Things.

I first came up with it at the mall food court, where every human being is in grave danger of casting aside healthful eating options for the deliciousness that is Chick-Fil-A. I thought: instead of depriving myself this year, I will make my mantra "All Good Things". All good things on my plate to nourish and care for my body; all good thoughts when it comes to family, friends, and those ever-present bothersome worries, the fruitless and frustrating and unproductive "what-if" scenarios.

So far, I think it's working.

Since my two-week Starbucks boycott, my weight is down about 4 pounds. I've got 10 more pounds to lose to be back to pre-baby body, fifteen if we want to get silly and return to the illusive Wedding Physique. So far, so mediocre, only because J and I eschewed exercise this month in the name of family togetherness. Now, it's time to get back to business. I've got a summer to prepare for. The name of the game is TONED.

Body-after-baby aside, the real makeover in 2011 thus far involves my mental clarity. Remember my tendency to become paralyzed by inactivity? It's a vicious cycle for me, and in order to avoid any dangerous missteps, I need to be organized. I mean, ORGANIZED.

This involves having our living environment neat and streamlined. But mainly? Mainly it involves lists and spreadsheets. I am having a love affair with lists and spreadsheets.

I decided at the turn of the year that if I am going to get an MBA this fall, I should practice by running our home like a business. It's not easy being a domestic engineer, y'all. There are many, many things to coordinate. I'm like an event planner that works 24 hours per day. I've got to think cash flow, budget, bills and savings accounts, meal plans, social events, diapering and nap schedules; not to mention the task of keeping the house sparkling and clean enough to be shown in 4 minutes flat. (Really, J called me one day as I was stepping into the shower to tell me that a prospective buyer wanted to see the house in FOUR minutes. I got dressed very quickly.)

Enter: my spreadsheets. I've got one for my budget, in which I list all of the expenses I cover, plus any incidentals that creep up. I've got an ultimate family travel/packing list, which details every item that each family member could possibly need before taking a trip (this one makes travel ever so much easier with a high-maintenace babe). I've got an Excel doc for grocery shopping, which is divided into weekly "staples" and "non-staples" and lists price per unit, so I can properly bargain hunt. (Whole Foods ain't cheap, yo.) I've also got lists of tasks that need to be accomplished before a house showing, and my ever evolving "to-do" list that lives in my Franklin Covey planner, a reliable faux-leather binder/friend.

I am positively Type-A, you guys. And I like it. I feel like I am learning to clean up the mental clutter, allowing me to really achieve my full potential, whatever that may be. (I've got some ideas percolating, my sweets.)

So now that I have finally regaled you with my New Year's resolutions on January 26th, pray tell, what are yours? Have you kept any? Any game-changers?

Of course, I wish you all good things, my friends.

Worry Just Will Not Seem to Leave My Mind Alone.

So Sunday?

Meh.

It was a bad day. I couldn't shake my dark mood. Every movement felt like an arduous chore, despite my AM yoga class (which I typically leave floating). My heart was heavy. I was restless in my own skin. Everything - somewhat inexplicably - was tinged with sadness.

I have a tendency towards anxiety. On some level, I've always been a worrier. As a child, my brother and I (and oftentimes, Koos) traveled to my grandparents' house in Colorado every summer. I loved those solo trips across the country, sans parents. I'm sure those early flights alone sealed my future independence and ease with travel.

Until one summer, I became - quite irrationally - afraid to fly. That year, my entire trip to Colorado Springs was effectively ruined, as I was desperately homesick, and I was SURE that our return flight was doomed. I was like some deranged character from Final Destination. John Denver's playing? And he died in a plane crash? Well fuck me, I am not getting on this plane.

Of course, I got on the plane. And survived! And eventually, I got over it. The fear. I gained confidence; became more independent, and continued to travel. The last truly lovely experience I had on a jet took place in June 2001. I flew to LA to visit my friend Brian, who was starring in a production of Evita. Blissful flight - with a connection through Cincinnati - blissful trip.

And then September 11th. Yeah. That.

Dealing with post-traumatic stress and anxiety is hard. It exhausts you. In my case, I could never feel safe. I felt like a moving target. Planes. Bombs. Anthrax. Blah.

That was nearly nine years ago. I have worked very hard to get through it. It's why I fly all the time. It's why I try to stay focused. It's why I make new resolutions every January. It's why I start Happiness Projects. These things make me calmer. More joyful. Whole.

But every so often (read: once every few years), the real dread creeps in. Luckily, it does not linger long. But it surfaces long enough to make me uncomfortable in my own skin. It makes me sad. It causes me to worry about every insignificant detail: new carpet might hurt our baby. The furniture won't arrive on time. SIDS. I'll get hit by a car. We don't have any window treatments in the nursery. WE NEED WINDOW TREATMENTS, J, LEST WE WILL NOT SURVIVE!

That was Sunday.

Monday was better. Today was great.

To help ameliorate my anxiety, I picked up Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now on CD. (I'm doing a lot of driving this week in Upstate New York.) I was skeptical, but Tolle talks a lot about the power our thoughts yield over us. That nagging voice in our heads, he says, is our own worst enemy. It torments us with potential negative outcomes. It attackes and punishes us, draining us of vital energy. (I might have shouted Yes! aloud at this point.)

To free yourself, he says, you only need to start listening to The Voice, paying attention to any repetitive thoughts. Listen impartially - don't judge. Soon, you will recognize your own presence versus The Voice. The thought will then lose its power, because you no longer identify with the thought.

I think that's damn lovely, and absolutely worth a shot. One of my resolutions for 2010 was to stop worrying. If I can consciously recognize these damaging, needless worries, and then banish them from my brain? Sign me up.

Agree? Disagree? I'd be interested to learn how others cope with anxiety. I love to try new things!

StressNATION.

Da Koos - one of my bestest friends in the universe, a woman who keeps me sane on a daily/hourly basis - is moving to Maryland in a few short weeks.

And I can't seem to carve out a moment to see her and her husband and her adorable babies before she goes.

Internet: HALP.

I have noticed this week - ironically, since I began my makeshift Happiness Project - that I am increasingly miserable. Irritable. Overwhelmed. My anxiety has seeped into my REM cycles as well: for the past three nights, I have been solely responsible for killing my brothers and all of their friends in a horrific plane crash; inadvertently killed Ninja (a ten-pound boy named "River," inexplicably); or worked tirelessly to survive the plague in France.

It's work, dudes. I am charged with being "on the road" for at least three days per week, which can entail a myriad of different circumstances. At 7 months pregnant with a baby who's gestational age is likely 8.5 months, I am exhausted. It's not really the travel that's taking it's toll: it's all the time AWAY from my home. Time I should be spending with my husband. Time I should spend doing more prenatal yoga. Time I should spend reading baby books. Time I should spend decorating my baby's nursery. Time I should spend exercising. Time I should spend nesting.

Fuck, even a trip to the dry cleaner's involves extreme precision and planning. When will I go? Logistically, when can I pick up?

And when do I squeeze in a doctor's appointment? Shouldn't my health and the baby's health take top priority?

I have a wonderfully supportive husband who, thanks to my enervating schedule, does more than any man in the history of the universe has ever done. FOR REAL. He makes sure the house is spotless upon my return from a grueling trip. He's coordinating the new carpet installation, the new windows. He does the laundry. He's working full-time as well, and finishing up an MBA. And yet he is managing, better than me.

And what's really frightening me, if I can tell you all honestly?

The kid is not even here yet. CRIPES - how do you DO THIS, moms?? Please do advise.

So I need to reign it in. I need to cut back at work. I am going to speak to my supervisor. Tell him my concerns (in a calm, pretending I am not a hormonal basketcase type of manner). I am going to focus on my happiness project. I am going to keep up with yoga, because all other plans and commitments be damned, yoga is saving my life right now. I feel resplendent when I come out of my Sunday morning class. Whole again.

I am busy making lists, and crossing tasks off. And I am trying to go easy on myself, lest my baby inherit this stress and neuroses.

In the meantime, I am frantically trying to create more hours in a day. Like, maybe 30? 30 would be good.

Any and all suggestions welcome, as well as inspirational "buck up, little camper" speeches.

HomeValley's Happy Marriage, and Other Things

I find myself frequently wishing for more hours in the day.

There is just so. Much. To. Do. And Ninja's birthday is looming. LOOMING! If the impact of this child's startling kicks are any indication, he/she is already five pounds. If this baby makes it to 40 weeks (oh my God, or BEYOND), it will be 6'8" at the time of delivery.

Mercy.

I started The Happiness Project this weekend. Have you heard of it? The author, Gretchen Rubin, spent a year trying to make herself happier, with a new focus each month. It's interesting, and often enlightening. On Sunday afternoon I spent some time reading paragraphs about marriage aloud to J.

"Oh, we should be hugging for at least 6 seconds, babe. That 'is the minimum time necessary to promote the flow of oxytocin and seratonin, mood-boosting chemicals that promote bonding.'"

"Who are you talking to?" my husband asks. J lurves hugging. We would hug all day, everyday, if it were up to him. At least now I have a goal: hug husband for at least six seconds for optimum success.

"Well, marriage expert John Gottman calls these behaviors the 'Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:' stonewalling, defensiveness, criticism, and contempt. Hmm. What is stonewalling?"

"Don't know - shutting people out?"

"Do we do that?"

Silence.

Ha!

"Well, we are never guilty of contempt," I mutter gratefully.

"Oh no!" I continue. "Apparently marital satisfaction drops substantially after the first child arrives. Ninja!" I look down at my bulbous belly. "Why are you going to ruin EVERYTHING?"

The truth is, I am utterly fascinated by the idea of self-improvement. And so I embark AGAIN on making sure I take each and every resolution seriously this year. J gives me credit; he says I am improving in most facets of domestic life.

But I am an overachiever. So come on, y'all. You know I am going to write more lists. I live for lists. I pull out my yellow legal pad.

1. List all of my "nagging" tasks (those shitty, thankless jobs that I avoid like the plague). Now DO them. (Yes, my first point on my list is to make another list. I'm awesome.)
2. Begin reading that blogging book I bought months ago.
3. 14 nights sans TV at bedtime. In hotels as well! This is an experiment. (Two nights down!)
4. One-minute rule (courtesy of author Rubin): if it will take under a minute, put it away.
5. Ten minutes of tidying each night (courtesy of Rubin) before bed. (I mean, if I learned nothing else from Danny Tanner? A clean home is a happy home.)
6. Unless I am in the middle of a project and have BANNED all interruptions, I cannot screen two consecutive calls.
7. 14 days of 1 hour of television per day (Two days down!)
8. Recommit to exercise through remainder of pregnancy (have you seen your cellulite OHMYGOD). At least 20 minutes of walking per day, 6 days per week. (One day down!)
9. 14 days of journaling, every day. (Two days down!)

I must say, I have felt awfully tired these last few days, but perhaps that is just the third trimester. I am also a little blue about being in Pittsburgh through Thursday, when I really want my own bed, my own cozy home and husband.

But I try to remember that I will not always travel, and when I don't? I'll ache for it.

So what say you, audience? I am the only one compulsively making lists and compiling pages and pages of tasks to get done all inf the name of self-actualization? Or am I - gasp - "nesting?"

Resolutionary

So I am in Dallas, living the dream. I'm at a conference here, and I have to tell you, I am completely committed to my work in 2010. It's strange; Ninja will be here in less than 5 months, and my only instinct is to be better at EVERYTHING. To be a fantastic, calm mom, of course; but also to rock standardized tests. To get into a good Master's program. To be amazing at my job; so damn phenomenal that I kill it around bonus time. I figure, that way my company has every reason to accommodate me when I am just too madly in love with mah baby to board a plane come late August.


I confess: I sneak up to my room during breaks to take a peak at baby photos. I only brought two of the 7839 ulrasound pictures our tech was kind enough to provide us, but these shots are exquisite. Have you seen my baby's ears? His/her shoulder? It's all so real now. Ninj is no longer just a tiny little bean with a microscopic beating heart. Miraculously (and holy shit, this is the most spectacular miracle), Ninja has functioning kidneys. And a big old heart with four whole chambers. Eyes. Lungs. A perfect spine. I wanted to kiss the doctor when she came in to thoroughly examine the ultrasound screen.


"Looks great, guys!" She said, and was on her way.


"We're so lucky," I said to J as we hustled back to the parking garage. "How did we get so lucky?"


The second ultrasound pic I have tucked in my planner is a regular 2D (3D?) profile shot of the entire baby. I promise I'll scan it tomorrow night when I get home, because y'all have to see this. Ninj has the most precious chin; a tiny mouth that is upturned in the slightest smile; and a miniature button nose. It's surreal, but the baby looks like J, which makes me imagine I have a little boy dancing around my placenta. But either sex is fine by me. A cliche, yes, but all I want is a healthy child.


So, so lucky.


Now, I will stop staring at Ninj for three minutes to recap my resolutions for 2010. I have never felt more equipped to handle all that is on this list, which I almost hate to admit. I worry that if I gush to much about how wonderful life is, some horrible malady will inevitably befall me. So:



1. LESS WORRYING. In my book, 100 Ways to Motivate Yourself, the author contends that once you become an adult, the only time you engage your imagination is to concoct worst-case scenarios. Ha! That's, like, the most true statement ever in the history of the world. I suspect this only gets worse as you become a parent. So I have decided to tell my worst-case scenario imagination to fuck off this year. Every time a bad thought creeps in (Oh man, my ankle hurts. I am obviously dying of cancer.) I am going to think something positive and life-affirming instead. That's right: fuck off, imagination. I shall now only use you for good.



2. MORE EXERCISING. Oh, original. But also: I been lazy. Time to be a truly hot mama. Rawr.



3. LESS PHONE SCREENING. I keep trying, guys. We shall overcome.



4. MORE GREEN-ING OF ENVIRONMENT. I am starting small: organic cottons for Ninj. A reusable coffee mug for Dunkin' Donuts. A reusable water bottle for the gym. More water and energy conservation. Plants. Also, maybe vacuum and dust a tad more.



5. MORE SEX. Apologize if you are blushing, gentle readers, but the H and I are still young, and we're having a baby. I am preemptively putting this high on the priority list for 2010. (J: You're welcome.)



6. LESS ROAD RAGE.



7. NO TEXTING WHILE DRIVING.



8. MORE STANDARDIZED TESTS. Setting a date for the GREs ASAP.



9. MORE WRITING. Ugh, I hate listing that one. But year after year, I need to make writing a higher priority. I mean, I love you guys. And I probably should write a novel one of these days.



10. MORE HEALTHY COOKING. Mmm, organics.



11. LESS PROCESSED FOODS. I won't go on a diatribe here. In summary: processed foods are evil and so delicious. Cutting back.



12. MORE QUALITY READING. I thoroughly enjoyed Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy, but I don't think it made me any smarter.



13. LESS TELEVISION. Shut up, talking picture box.



14. MORE AWESOME. Just that. Bringing the awesome.



15. MORE GRATITUDE. To everyone. For everything. It is ultimately a lovely world.



16. MORE WATER. I totally don't drink enough of it. J thinks Ninja's home will dry up or something.



17. LESS TECHNOLOGY. Says the girl with the new Kindle and iPod Touch. But still.



18. MORE COMMENTING. I read so many amazing blogs, and then get shy when it comes to joining the discussion. That ends now.



19. MORE CALLS. To friends and family. Maybe even some enemies. I just need to stop communicating solely on Facebook. Real interaction is neat.



20. MORE (okay, first) BlogHer convention.

And there you have it, kids: a nice, round number of things that will make a better HomeValley. Pray tell, what will you do differently in 2010?

19 Weeks - So That Was Christmas

A belated Merry Merry to you all!

J and I had a lovely holiday. I have pictures! Which of course I can't upload here, because they are not on this computer. Oh, and I am a lazy sonofabitch. But only for a few more days, y'all. What up 2010?!? It's almost resolution time, lovers. What will you be resolving to do in Ten?

I was very spoiled this year (so spoiled that I think J and I are done with gifts, at least for next year)... I mean, I got the Kindle! Naturally, I am deeply in love. And I got the iPod Touch (though previously owned, long story). And I got this book, which actually has made my love for Sara surpass my love for Oprah, which is quite serious, no? Now I begin sentences, "Well, Sara Snow says..." which doesn't annoy J at all.

Most notably, I received a family heirloom. Immediately before dinner on Christmas day, my uncle Frank presented me with a ring from my great-great Aunt Mary. The ring was fashioned from her mother's mother's mother's most treasured pair of gold and pearl earrings. It's gorgeous and unique. It was also accompanied by a letter written in 1959 (the earrings are now 150 years old) by my Aunt Mary, which Uncle Frankie handed me to read aloud. Good night! I couldn't get one word out without blubbering. Am pregnant puddle. And also: very blessed.

Antique heirlooms aside, perhaps the best present I received this year? J's mustache. It's... stunning. He's been cultivating it since last Saturday, and I know it will grow even more spectacular. I swear: photos to come.

How about y'all? Any great gifts this year?

Today I'm 19 weeks prego, and Ninja is doing some fast and furious pop-and-locks in the old uterus. It's wildly exciting to feel a little person in there. We have our 20-week ultrasound next Monday, and although we are determined NOT to find out the sex, I wouldn't be crushed if the N flashed us some bits. We shall see! Are we really halfway there?

Oh! And the GMATs went well. My overall score was top-notch, but I am concerned with my quantitative score. I toyed with the idea of retesting, but honestly, I have actively forgotten all of the geometry I just crammed into mah brain. Next stop: GREs.

More updates to come. Until then, as Sara Snow says: be well.

The Last Year of My Twenties. Let's get real.

A few weeks ago, as G and I browsed the stacks at Border's, I came across The Complete Idiot's Guide to Overcoming Procrastination.

"Well, look at this!" I announced, holding the book for G to see. "This is what I need!"

"Ha," she snorted. "I would put off reading that."

"Yeah, me too," I agreed. But I bought it anyway.

Now the missive sits next to me, dog-eared and highlighted, adorned with 15 post-it notes, all instructing me to declutter this and organize that. It's actually working! I've cleaned out my entire office (all of my work and personal files), and I feel positively lighter. My brain is being decluttered, and I feel like I am finally in control of my own destiny, as opposed to just hiding in Friends reruns, willing myself to feel inspired to write, to clean, to cook, to exercise. To live my life. I am doing it, and that's that.

So here it is, my 2009 Resolution list. It is considerably smaller than last year's. Drumroll please:

(Joy to the World!)

1. I will finish what I start.
2. I will write. And write. And write. And when I am spent? I will then write some more.
3. I will become a more loving, caring wife, daughter, grand-daughter, sister, cousin, and friend. (See also: more timely "thank you" notes.)
4. I will get into supreme physical shape via increased cardio, strength-training, yoga, and healthy eating. (Okay, okay, I know it's trite, but really, what do you have if you don't have your health? Besides, I am also very interested in wearing a bikini this year with zero misgivings. Sue me.)
5. I will drink less. Lest I become haggardly elder lady. In my THIRTIES.

So that's that. And yeah. It'll happen this year. I feel it.

On a separate, unrelated note, the new Bachelor looks like George W. Bush. And he just said "amazing journey" twice. I bet this time, things'll work out.

Happy 2009! I am a rock star!

So it's 2009, and I have been MIA for many, many days. Miss me?

Well, I missed you. Terribly. And for the three of you who are interested, I still have a job! And I totally meant to blog about my adventures in securing said job. Let me just tell you, I had already written the post in my head. It was entitled: "And then I got my period." (I thought it sounded like a country song chorus, right?) And since you ask, US Air lost my bag. It took me 3 cabs to find a mall. I then got stranded at the mall in Columbia, SC. My luggage arrived the next day. Broken. My return flight was canceled. I had to drive to Charlotte. My face wash exploded in my bag. My flight was delayed. And then I got my period. No, really. It was so insulting. But all's well that end's well. The end.

And now I find myself in Orlando, Florida, at the start of a new year, and it is time to review last year's resolutions. Oh boy! This should be an exercise in futility! Let's see:


Become more clear-headed. - Sure.

Perhaps drink less alcohol. - Next.

Also, consider a mantra. - "Mmm. Wine."??

One Thing At A Time. - No, that's better.

Because honestly, we can't go on with our head so - cluttered. - Ahem. Better luck in 2009!

Meet Howie Mandel. - Haha! Yes! Did it, bitches!

Provide Internet photographic evidence of said meeting. Blam. What up!

Take the GMATs. - I'm a loser.

Take them again and really rock them. - No comment.

Apply to graduate school. - Well, at least I took a class. That's really something.

Actually go this time around. (Don't ask.) - Well, we'll actually go later this year, won't we, HV?

Be amazing future wife. Think special presents and thoughtful gestures, amongst, ahem, other things. - Now I am depressed. Although I did just gift J with a day at the shootin' range, something he has always wanted to do. But I also told my mom to get him a humidifier for Christmas (he needed it!). Yeah, those two cancel each other out.

Visit a California winery. - Check! Three down!

Develop exquisite physique for July nuptials. - Meh. Not exquisite, but serviceable.

Avoid burritos. - Switched to burrito bowls. I am giving myself this one.

Watch less television. - F you, resolution list.

Finish Anna Karenina. - No. And I am taking this off the '09 list. Come on, Tolstoy. Throw me a bone.

Even though Lisa Turtle gave away the ending trying to impress that snobbish intellectual she had a crush on in that one episode.

Reduce call-screening by 50%. - If I'm being honest... No.

Call Grandmom more. - I'm a jerk.

Give more compliments. - I will give myself this one. You are so pretty.

But make sure they are sincere. - Well, you are somewhat attractive.

Stop DVRing Sex and the City on TBS. - Yes! Your puns are silenced forever, Bradshaw.

Stop worrying so much. - Sort of.

Consider another mantra for this. - "Don't worry. Be happy."

More. Yoga. - Nice work! Until after the wedding. Lazy.

Get published. - Yeppers! One article down, 894090 to go.

To this end, definitely drink less and cut out bad TV. - Look alive, HomeValley!

Post more. - I'm an asshole.

Become a friend of the blogosphere. Delurk. - Meh.

Floss. - Nope.

Organize office. - We did it!

Maintain organized workspace. - Good luck with this.

Send "thank you" cards. - Did it!

Visit Africa. - March 2009.

See the pyramids in Egypt. - Soon enough, my precious.

Go on a safari. - Not this year. Not next.

Quell road rage. - Ehhh.

Get promoted. - Or move laterally! Good for you, though.

These are stupid:

Become a better networker.
Volunteer at least three days this year.
Become a student of theology.
Pick a religion that works.
Stop offending Jesus.
Become spiritual person.
Quit complaining.
Gossip less.

Finally get belly-button ring removed, because honestly. You got that thing at 18 on South Street. Time to let go. - Change of heart about this one. Stay young.

Develop solid wedding song playlist. - Well, I think all who attended can agree. I rocked this.

Avoid most wedding cliches. - Yep.

Share your success in these quests with the Internet. - You're welcome, Internet.

And also those damn Istanbul pictures already. - Merhaba, friends.

So, was it a successful year? Meh. Probably not, resolutionary-speaking. But I will remain steadfast this year. I've discovered a newfound zest for organization, dedication, and a little something I like to call: finish what you start, you silly blog-mistress. That's what 2009 is about. And I swear, I am going to do it.

Happy New Year, y'all.

Resolve.

23. Stop DVRing Sex and the City on TBS.

And...

Done.

Sorry girls, but your edited for TV antics are no longer clogging up my glorious DVR!

In other resolution updates, I have successful reduced phone screening in the last several days, though this will be a life-long battle. I have also started studying for the GMATs (er, reading the GMAT book). I have been going to the gym (Body Works class today), though I most certainly have not ceased drinking. Can't win 'em all, kids.

Have a lovely weekend. And also, do just one favor for your old pal, HomeValley: navigate away from the Britney/gossip sites, and read something about a potential presidential nominee. I realize, loves, that I'm far from a political expert (just give me time), but I implore you: only we have the power to change our disturbing Britney-obsessed culture, one click at a time.

Oh! That reminds me. I have unwittingly developed a mantra to help me avoid all celeb gossip, inspired by this:

Harvey Levin is rich because you are stupid.

Try it!

2008: The Year of HomeValley

1. Become more clear-headed.
2. Perhaps drink less alcohol.
3. Also, consider a mantra.
4. One Thing At A Time.
5. Because honestly, we can't go on with our head so - cluttered.
6. Meet Howie Mandel.
7. Provide Internet photographic evidence of said meeting.
8. Take the GMATs.
9. Take them again and really rock them.
10. Apply to graduate school.
11. Actually go this time around. (Don't ask.)
12. Be amazing future wife. Think special presents and thoughtful gestures, amongst, ahem, other things.
13. Visit a California winery.
14. Develop exquisite physique for July nuptials.
15. Avoid burritos.
16. Watch less television.
17. Finish Anna Karenina.
18. Even though Lisa Turtle gave away the ending trying to impress that snobbish intellectual she had a crush in that one episode.
19. Reduce call-screening by 50%.
20. Call Grandmom more.
21. Give more compliments.
22. But make sure they are sincere.
23. Stop DVRing Sex and the City on TBS.
24. Stop worrying so much.
25. Consider another mantra for this.
26. More. Yoga.
27. Get published.
28. To this end, definitely drink less and cut out bad TV.
29. Post more.
30. Become a friend of the blogosphere. Delurk.
31. Floss.
32. Organize office.
33. Maintain organized workspace.
34. Send "thank you" cards.
35. Visit Africa.
36. See the pyramids in Egypt.
37. Go on a safari.
38. Quell road rage.
39. Get promoted.
40. Become a better networker.
41. Volunteer at least three days this year.
42. Become a student of theology.
43. Pick a religion that works.
44. Stop offending Jesus.
45. Become spiritual person.
46. Quit complaining.
47. Gossip less.
48. Finally get belly-button ring removed, because honestly. You got that thing at 18 on South Street. Time to let go.
49. Develop solid wedding song playlist.
50. Avoid most wedding cliches.
51. Share your success in these quests with the Internet.
52. And also those damn Istanbul pictures already.