Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Brand New Year, Brand New Kat -- Oh, Never Mind

Some old dude* way back when said that "...the road to hell is paved with good intentions." I'm not sure whether or not I think that's the case. Mostly because I kinda think my road to hell is paved with t-boxes, Godiva dark chocolate and the Pink Velvet boxed DVD set of Sex and the City. And, hopefully strewn with clothes that were recently on Jon Hamm but then he got warm and started stripping off. I guess what I'm saying here is that I got all New Year's Resolution-y and have quickly realized that I'm just not cut out for it. I also think my road to hell might be a lot of fun, but that's not supposed to be the point, is it?

I wrapped my Brand New Kate philosophy around the idea that it's not only a new year, but a new decade, and that, by the end of it, I'll be in a new decade. And I was going to kick Forty's ass.

Well, twenty-four days into it, 2011 is not looking any better than 2010 did. It also is becoming increasingly clear that I am going to be Forty's bitch when it comes. Here's where I think I might have gone wrong...

  • Working Out My birthday was over a month ago. And, I planned my 30 Day Shred so strategically that I would finish Day 30 the day before my birthday. Which, coincidentally, is also the last time I did any measurable sweating. I fully expect Jillian to show up -- or at least, her attorneys, which I imagine to be over muscled women in Ann Taylor sweater sets over leather bondage suits -- and hand me a Cease & Desist order forbidding me to mention that I ever Shredded ever. "You shredded? For 30 Days? At the highest level? And this is what you look like? You can't even walk to the mailbox without gasping for breath and leaving a trail of Doritos in your wake." And then I'll be banned from Flare-y Nostril Land. Please Jillian? If I promise to be good and not go to the grocery store in my workout pants that have, of late, just become mocking-me-because-I'm-not-using-them-for-workout pants, can I come back? I have 33 days until I have to be in a bikini in a place where they evict you from the beach if you aren't up to par. Jillian, I NEED you.
  • Food I make a mean tomato and cucumber salad. And if I eat it while talking to Lydia on the phone and responding to emails, I'm pretty sure it's entirely possible to burn more calories that I'm taking in. But seeing that it's January and I'm not buying tomatoes at $4.99 a pound when I get them for free in my backyard all summer means that it's out with the delicious and nutritious salad, and in with Egg Nog Coffee and raw cookie dough.  And last night I had three glasses of wine and a jar of marshmallow fluff. For about seventeen seconds, I considered combining the two together, but I think that it's possible I was sitting too close to the fireplace while watching Strange Addiction. She was eating sofa cushions, so I figure that I still have a ways to go between sanity and Mallow Noir. Although Cheetos dipped in peanut butter is a culinary delicacy and I want the trademark on that. I'll use the millions to pay for the liposuction.
  • Yelling Lydia and I talked just before New Years about taking that vital and necessary Deep Breath before responding to some of the insane things our children say. Our theory was that, just by taking a breath and pausing, we'd grab a little tighter hold of sanity and rationale and reason, and then we'd be able to explain something calmly and coolly. Funny thing. Turns out that big deep, lung-filling breath just means you can yell louder, and for longer. I might be turning flabby and cellulite-y, but my lungs? Oh, they're in Olympic-level shape. Now we just need to be able to medal in Screaming People Stupid. I still want to conquer my Angry Yelling Syndrome, and it's still a goal for 2011. One of my friends suggested whispering as a way to compel the IHPs to listen, but they just thought I had lost my voice and took to answering the telephone for me and announcing all sorts of information over the phone. Oh, and just for the record, my house is NOTHING like Vegas. What happens here gets blabbed about all over town. Also, we don't seem to have people who bring me cocktails.
  • Money It's simple: Spend Less, Save More. Right? So, why am I being conspired against? Dear Awesome Stores That I Love: Please stop sending me coupons, deals, info on sales, anything that sounds like, rhymes with, or has the same letters as Buy One, Get One Free. I'm trying to be good here. Also, please stop sending condolence cards to my family. Just because I've managed to go three months without a new pair of Jimmy Choos doesn't mean I died. It just feels like I did.

  • Get Stuff Done (Minus the Lists) It's possible that this was my worst idea. I like getting stuff done, but I know I drive my family crazy with lists and Lists and List Lists. [Editor's Note: Yes, they're totally different. The little "l" lists are just notes to myself but aren't part of the day's events. Like "call Lydia" -- I mean, duh, I'm going to do that about ten thousand times today anyway. That I wrote it down means that I have something specific to tell her, like that she's a stupid hooker.  Big "L" Lists are things that MUST get done, like return something to Target or "go to work" -- things that better happen or there's gonna be someone pissed off at the end of the day. Usually me. And, of course, List Lists are the MackDaddy of lists. Lists of things that require more lists. Which, unsurprisingly, makes me gloriously happy.]  Anyhow, the point of this was to make less lists. Which I was semi-successful at until I realized that I've forgotten to do about 67 things over the past month. The one that comes to mind is the one where. I. was. supposed. to. go. to. work. Whuck?!? They had to call me. At home. And wonder where I was and why I wasn't there. And they had to do it all British-y so it was like Mary Poppins was scolding me about whether or not I had jumped into a chalk drawing that afternoon and lost track of time during a horse race. Which was immediately followed by me cursing and yelling and imploring Nanny to save my ass and I think I might have given her another raise. Or possibly bought a ostrich farm. 
I'm hoping that, by writing all this out, that it will get me back up on that wagon or horse or saddle or why are they all rodeo stuff? Well, I guess I've never actually fallen off my heated Volvo driver's seat. OK, just that once. Sheeesh. 

Lydia gave me Jillian's 30-Day Yoga Meltdown last week. I'm wondering if she's risking Jillian's ire by smuggling it to me. But I'm determined to be a better, quieter, healthier, thriftier, less list-ier Kate in the coming months.  And, I could probably do with a little zen and oohm'ing at this point.

It's either that, or go shopping for a handbasket. I heard the ride to hell is loads more fun in one of those. 

xoxo Kate

 *According to the omnipotent "them" on the internet, it was either said by Samuel Clemens (you know, Mark Twain) OR Karl Marx. Really? We can't narrow that down? They kinda had really different philosophies, didn't they? That's kinda like saying that "I think, therefore I am" was uttered by Descartes. Or Elmo. I'm totally going with Elmo on this one. 

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

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