This year, I made good on 5 out of 8 of my New Year’s Resolutions, which is pretty damn good considering two of them (“write every morning for an hour” and “make a diorama”) are on there every year and I never complete them so they don’t even count. That’s baaaasically 100% victory. Note below that weight loss and not eating tacos weren’t goals; thus, my success.
2011 New Year’s Resolutions:
- Write every day for at least an hour (2012 Me: Psssshhhh)
- Send novel manuscript out again (2012 Me: DID IT! Rejected 5 times! New Record!)
- Finish Thriftfulness book proposal (2012 Me: DID IT! Rejected twice, but once they took awhile so I’m operating under the assumption that they stole my idea and am preparing my “suing” papers)
- Make a diorama (2012 Me: You spent half the year unemployed and you didn’t make a frickin’ diorama? What were you doing???)
- Pack lunch more (2012 Me: SUCCESS! Being unemployed half the year helped)
- Spend more time outside (2012 Me: What did 2011 Me mean by “more”? Does deck drinkin’ count?)
- Continue to garden (2012 Me: ACCOMPLISHED! And I’ve got the pesto breath to prove it)
- Get good sleep (2012 Me: Did I subconsciously know I was about to get laid off?)
Coming off of that kind of success, I feel like I can do anything!!! I’m going to start 2012 off with a silent bang. It will be a bang because I’m going to get a s*&% ton of stuff done. It will be silent because, get ready, I will not be using the Internet.
One of my 2012 Resolutions, beside “wear less burnt orange”, is to go “screen free” for January. That means no Facebook, no Twitter, no TV, no smartphone (I don’t have a smartphone. I like to throw myself bones). Probably, I will become so enlightened that when you check back in with me in February, I’ll have a long grey beard and wear a muumuu with metallic threaded moons and flowers on it and I’ll have decided that something I previously found essential to life is actually useless, like shoes or tacos or Cheers reruns. I might have purchased some kind of moped to drive around on and I’ll start bringing exquisite blades of grass to people who invite me to dinner instead of bottles of wine.You’ll probably be jealous. I just want to prepare you.
So I’ll be somewhere on a park bench reading Walden to the geese all through January. If you miss me you can reflect on some of my older awesome posts and look forward to all that is to come for Thriftfulness in 2012. Liiiike:
- I’m going to make crackers.
- More party themes including a special Valentines Day Party Ideas post.
- My ass is going to Hawaii so look forward to some coconut shell crafts and mai-tai drunken tweets.
- Find out how I learned how babies were made.
- More gifts for kids!
- A Thriftfulness Etsy shop. Could it be? Yes. It could. If your coordination skills could possibly be more off than mine (not likely), than you might not be able to make the crafts I make, so you could buy them instead. If you have more money than me (likely), you could buy them just to be nice.
If you don’t like any of those things, you don’t have to be such a drag about it. Here, I will give you two whole lines from a book that I read this year that I really liked and think about when I think about the new year because these particular quotes are about love and being a spaz and being hopeful. I made a computer picture to illustrate:
From Binnie Kirshenbaum’s An Almost Perfect Moment:There. Now I’m leaving. Enjoy the Internet SUCKAS!!!
Oh geez, Barb has been a Pukey Patti this week, so we’ve had a lot of post-vomit cuddling time to read (me) and gaze absently at a paper pile of meaningless symbols while swallowing back regurgitated salmon-y flavored niblets (her). Like this:
It’s FREE candy season, a celebration I still FREEly take part in, even as an adult because I cannot turn down free treats. Doesn’t matter if I’m not hungry or if I already have a bellyache from the free treats I consumed moments earlier. If there’s a bowl of Sweet Tarts or a popcorn ball or even those gross black and orange wrapped half-taffy/half-regurgitated peanut things, I’m going to eat them all because somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a 7-year-old dressed up like a cat for the third year in a row screaming, “TAKE THE CANDY! FREE CANDY! HOARD IT AND PULL OUT THE NAME-BRAND PIECES AT LUNCH TO IMPRESS PEOPLE!”
Barb and I decided to start a book club with the thrifted books I come across. She’s mostly just a figurehead because she’s got so many other hobbies going on right now. Plus she’s illiterate.
Come February over here in the Midwest, spirits get about as gray as the snow boogers behind our car tires. Our skin is dry, our shoulders have knots from shivering so much, and the coziness of curling up on the couch under blankets and watching bad T.V. has worn the #$@k off.
Despite the fact that I almost never exercise, don’t know how to swim, and had a 2-year craving for french fries which I ALWAYS satisfied, I somehow managed to become a fan of bodybuilder, tv host, and power-juicer Jack LaLanne, who passed yesterday at 96 years of age.
Ann-ie. Back again. Check it to wreck it. Let’s begin.
When we last left our tub of hissing raisins and yeast it was just one more smelly bucket sittin’ on a table. But this was The Little Bucket That Could. Ferment, that is. And ferment it did. Leaving me and my beau with some engorged raisins, some muck, and, hopefully, some booze.
Here’s what we did in the second stage of Wine’n, not to be confused with regular Whinin’, which is what we did after we read that we couldn’t drink it for six months.
Ok, I’ve been gone awhile. Just for your peace of mind, I wasn’t hospitalized or taken in on suspicious drug charges. I moved. Actually, I moved twice. And switched jobs, and had panic attacks, and made $200 from a garage sale!, and painted…and painted…and painted the new place. But no excuses here. I know I haven’t written, I haven’t called, but I promise I’ve been thinking about you. So grab a cup of whatever it is you’re drinking these days and let’s have a one-sided convo about just what I’ve been up to these past weeks.
“If you had your way you’d pass a law to abolish all the little jobs, the little things. But then you’d leave yourself nothing to do between the big jobs and you’d have a devil of a time thinking up things to do so you wouldn’t go crazy. Instead of that, why not let nature show you a few things? Cutting grass and pulling weeds can be a way of life, son.” -from Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Spring! And haven’t we had a lovely one so far? Whenever the weather starts getting warmer like this, I always think of school days, those last afternoons of the year when it seemed like everyone, students and teachers alike, were all just waiting it out until summer vacation. The hallways smelled different, thicker, and it was harder to concentrate with the sounds and smells of someone mowing the lawn coming in from the open windows. And most of all, I think of the day that came every year, the day I got off of the bus and my whole yard had turned yellow with dandelions.
You did it. You made it through 2009, swine flu, unemployment rates and the staggering blow of the Susan Sarandon/Tim Robbins split be damned. You survived. Welcome to 2010.
Maybe you made some resolutions for the new year, maybe you didn’t. Maybe, like me, you already broke some. I hate to pile more on your proverbial plate, but there are some things I think you may have missed. On that whole page of promises, packed between the sleep betters, eat betters, do mores, and make mores, did you maybe skip over a little ol’ resolution to be thriftier and more thoughtful? Hmmmm? As Data from Goonies would say, “Shame, shame, you know your name!”
Don’t panic, though. 2010 isn’t a total wash yet. You can borrow some of my resolutions to be thriftful and start this decade off right (thank me later): Continue reading