Whiskers on kittens

These are a few of my favorite things, a la Julie Andrews:

1. Honey crisp apples
2. Spontaneous laughter
3. The soft inside edge of Miss Kitty’s front paws
4. A great story
5. Sunsets
6. Waking up when my body tells me to get up
7. A letter from a friend
8. Fried sourdough bread
9. Heroic animal stories
10. The smell of horses and leather
11. When another person gives me that “I’m so glad to see you!” smile
12. Fresh baked bread, with butter
13. Songs that make you want to dance
14. Daffodils
15. A hot shower
16. The crunching sound of leaves underfoot in the fall
17. Photography
18. Receiving postcards in the mail
19. Driving on a perfect day with all of the windows down
20. Frozen chocolate chip cookies
21. Waterfalls
22. Fresh, clean sheets on the bed
23. A perfectly hot cup of tea or hot chocolate
24. Breakfast
25. Starting a book only to find yourself so drawn in that you can’t put it down
26. Traveling and exploring new places
27. Finding a pen that makes your  handwriting look good
28. Sunshine
29. Cherry Carmex
30. Horseback riding — an easy canter on a wooded trail
31. Watching people do something selfless and nice for someone else
32. Handcrafted goods
33. Forehead kisses
34. Mastering new skills
35. The clean smell of the earth after it rains
36. Watching movies, especially those that make me laugh
37. The first few bites of a really great cheese
38. A conversation with a friend that’s so good you both stay up way too late and struggle to stay awake because you don’t want it to end
39. Ham, mushroom and spinach pizza
40. Pedicures
41. Making dinner with friends
42. Hugs
43. A clean car, inside and out
44. Dark chocolate M&Ms
45. My parents
46. An organized day planner
47. Completing a project and liking the way it turned out
48. Found objects of natural beauty
49. Swimming
50. Comfortable pajamas

Deals, resolutions and non-goals

I’m not very big on resolutions. I’m more of a “have a few drinks/get contemplative/make deals with myself” sort-of gal, which sounds hilarious when I type it out (yet is the complete truth).

When I was in my early 20s, I went to the local bar — The Green Door — and proceeded to have a few beers. I was chatting with a friend when a guy walked buy wearing a t-shirt that read, “Don’t Die Wondering,” which got me to thinking, “If I knew I was going to die, what would I wonder about?”

That train of drunk-think led me to determine that, if presented with the opportunity to go sky-diving, I would wonder if I would freely jump or if I would have to be pushed out? I resolved to find out before my 25th birthday, and immediately met another friend who — what else? — sky dives and was at the bar listening to me. He promised to take me to Skydive Delmarva, and we made plans to take my sober butt up in a plane with the intent of leaving said plane on a trajectory to the ground with only a tandem instructor and a parachute to intercede.

So, it turns out I didn’t jump nor did I get pushed — we rocked backward and then pitched forward into the atmosphere. (I thought we were going on the count of three, but no dice. We fell forward on ONE.) It was awesome and exhilarating and terrifying and, according to my sensitive ears, painful. 60 seconds of pure adrenaline. But when the parachute canopy opened there was this immediate silence — no more roaring wind — and I could talk to my instructor in a normal voice. Peaceful, I remember thinking. It was a clear day with low humidity, and he pointed out Ocean City as we slowly fell toward an impressionists’ painting of farmland.

Last year, I couldn’t make up my mind about my hair. Cut it or let it grow long? I was so stuck and unable to make a decision, that I made another deal with myself: I am not allowed to cut my hair until I lose 10 pounds. Thankfully, I’m not yet completely over the whole long-hair thing. (But when I do get completely fed up with it, I know that it’ll be go time on that other several-years-going resolution to get back to my pre-grad school weight.)

This year, I didn’t even contemplate whether or not I wanted to come up with new years resolutions. I hate the guilt that comes with not keeping up with something I’ve resolved myself to do. On the other hand, I’m vaguely aware that if I’m wheeling and dealing against myself it’s basically the same thing, but it feels different. Perhaps because there’s not a deadline attached to all of my deals. They can be more of an “If THAT, then THIS” situation. Something will either happen or it won’t happen, and there’s no point in feeling guilty either way.

Today I stumbled across a different kind of New Years list though… one that I think is quite brilliant: a non-goal list. Blogger Erin describes non-goals as “action items that I’ve already put into practice, or things about myself that I want to stay the same this year. It’s my way of praising the good habits I’ve formed over a lifetime, or maybe just over the past few weeks.”

In the spirit of praising oneself and embracing positive personal aspects, here are my 2012 non-goals:

1. You value your friendships, putting a lot of time, consideration and mileage into maintaining them. Keep it up, but don’t forget to save something for yourself.
2. You are introspective and try to take responsibility for all of your actions, reactions and thoughts.
3. Good job last year in setting up some automatic savings measures with your limited funds. Keep working towards paying off your debt and increasing your savings. It will make you feel great once you get an even better handle on your finances.
4. You’ve managed to overcome a variety of Big Things in the past several years. Remember that even if those moments were stressful, you survived them and came out smiling.
5. Great job managing the purchase of things you need, things you want and things you have to have. You make smarter decisions than you give yourself credit for.
6. You stepped outside of your comfort zone and have cooked up some pretty tasty dinners for yourself (and friends). Keep experimenting with good-for-you foods and learning to eat in a way that makes you feel healthy and happy. 
7. You’re making an effort to say “Yes” more often, instead of sticking with activities and experiences that are known and comfortable. Go you!

What are some of your non-goals? Do you set resolutions or make deals with yourself? How do you encourage yourself to accomplish your goals, and how do you celebrate once you’ve met them?

Happy New Year, everyone! Be kind to yourself!

Ringing in the New Year

New Years Eve 2011 required getting all gussied up (and wishing that I knew the trick to taking a good cell phone self-portrait):

Going to a party, where I stood in a corner for a full-body photo and didn’t know what to do with my arms, but was super-excited for an opportunity to wear my sexy little red and black heels:

And ringing in the new year with a house-full of dressed up guys and ladies, including my friends Sean and Liz (see below), playing my first-ever game of Wii bowling!

Happy New Year, People, and welcome 2012!

Completed

Well, I’ve done it! I’ve successfully managed to complete one thing this year that I set out to do almost from the get-go: I read 80 books in 2011!

Whoo hoo! I’m so glad I was able to complete this challenge — it has been a goal for me all year, one that I managed to stay ahead of until about August, when I picked up a giant, boring book and fell behind pace. I’ve branched out and read some really interesting stories, and some not-so-great ones. Most of my books were from the library or borrowed (I only buckled and bought a few). I’ve discovered a few authors I’d like to keep tabs on, and even enjoyed a classic or two that I’d never read before.

All resolutions to lose weight, save money and move to Colorado aside, I’m quite pleased that I managed to both make progress and complete this one, and will probably sign up for the 2012 Reading Challenge (although I’ll set a smaller goal — I need to share next year with some other activities other than reading books)!

Not a member of Goodreads? (Too bad! Seriously, reconsider! It’s like Facebook for readers.) For a full list of the titles I’ve read in 2010 and 2011 (along with my recommendations), check out my Paper Vacations page!

Not quite merry

It’s the holiday season. People are festive: decorating their homes, hitting all of the pre-Christmas and post-Christmas and pre-New Year sales, and over-indulging in the foods they most associate with the season. People are smiling: work days are shorter, there are parties to attend, and gifts to give and receive. Instead of talking about the weather, small talk exhibits its own brand of ho-ho-ho flair: “Was Santa good to you?”

I feel like an observer. I watch the people around me and take note of how they seem to absorb and radiate good vibes, winter vibes, Christmas vibes, Hanukkah vibes, New Year vibes! They manage this despite the fact that we’re having a mild December and the temps are still in the 50s each day. They manage despite the fact that they weren’t able to keep last year’s resolutions, but are determined to make and keep this year’s. They seem effortlessly excited about the whole deal, whether they’re staying close to home or traveling, whether they’ve got big families or small. Yet, the holiday spirit doesn’t seem to have sunk in far enough to get pumped through my heart and to show on my face.

Instead, I feel like my heart is hemorrhaging. I don’t seem to be able to soak up what’s being directed at me that’s good, it just sloughs off and I’m left feeling drained and empty. Which leaves me feeling grouchy and Grinchy and SAD. I got to go on a short family trip to visit my sister, and we spent two nights at a really nice inn with a spa. That sentence should end there, but I want to tack on that I came back home and worked on my day off, and I’m exhausted, and I don’t know how to find a point of relaxation where my shoulder doesn’t hurt all. day. long. Then I immediately feel guilty, because HELLO! I got my first facial ever at a fancy spa and I got to spend time with my family, so who the fuck am I to complain?

But the guilt doesn’t do anything but my my heart feel heavier, less capable of enjoying the good that does come my way: packages arriving from friends, watching an old Bing Crosby movie with Sarah S-E, working on sewing and craft projects with Mom. Distraction and alcohol help, though.

I went out drinking with Aimee the Friday before Christmas. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, because it involved coming home and NOT putting on pajamas. It involved brushing my teeth and hair and meeting people and smiling and talking and CARING. I surprised myself by having one of the best nights out that I’d had in a long time, early morning visit to I HOP with their particularly interesting crowd included. (The French toast was fantastic!)

We were swimming on Wednesday when Sean invited me to a New Years Eve party, and initially I said “no.” But then I swam the second half-mile and thought about how I really did want to hang out with Sean outside of swimming, and I wanted to see his girlfriend, Liz, again, and why the fuck not because I had a good time when I went out with Aimee, right?! Then he told me it was semi-formal and I almost changed my mind. Then I started trying to figure out if I have anything that I could wear or borrow so I could make it to the party. (To cinch the deal I might have to confirm that I can have French toast after the ball drops.)

I am aware that I’m engaging in that classic personal war of fake it until you make it, and I’m okay with that now… because if it works, I’ll have one hell of a time on Saturday night. And even if I wake up on Monday feeling hollow, faintly tearful and with an overwhelming compulsion to slip into a pair of fleece pants and marry myself to the couch for several hours, I brought Miss Kitty home from an extended Christmas vacation and Grandma and Grandpa’s tonight, and she’s currently purring so loudly right near my ear that I can feel the thrum of her love, happiness and contentment starting to fill up a small part inside me with something good.

If my stupid empty, non-merry heart can learn to accept love and affection, companionship and happiness from a cat then I have to have hope that it can learn to accept it — and hold onto it — from humans, too.

In the best company

When I was a kid, there were two family friends that I thought of as an aunt and uncle: De and George. Only later did I grow up and learn that we were not, in fact, related, and that they were not, in fact, married: they were siblings who chose to live together and help each other out, and then simply remained in that arrangement until George’s death in 1996. That doesn’t change the fact that De made the best lasagna in the entire universe, and used to construct me “log cabins” out of toast for breakfast. George smoked too much and loved to talk about anything and everything.

De and George had a city house for the winter, and a one-room cottage house on Assateague Island for the summers. For a while, they had a big tom cat named Mr. Whiskers who had really long canine teeth. He attacked a dog who came onto their summer property and broke one of those canines off. They also had a dog, Drake, who used to sing for cookies and was scared of the fly swatter. De introduced me to reggae and let us pick strawberries from her garden, and George would ask us about school before he’d tell us about his hand-carved ducks.

When George died, my parents promised him they’d put a wreath on his grave in the Fort Lincoln Cemetery. He’s high up on a hill, under some large oak trees, and right next to his son.

This year, a co-worker sent out an e-mail stating that his wife was making and selling boxwood wreaths decorated with natural elements, like holly and juniper berries and pine cones. I purchased two 12″ wreaths from her, and on December 11 (my parents’ 34th wedding anniversary), we drove up to Lanham to pick up my Grandmother and then made our first stop at Fort Lincoln. We parked and got out of the warm car and into the crisp, December wind. The ground was wet and soggy, and many of the bronze memorials (which lie flat on the ground to make it easier for grounds maintenance) were covered in leaves. We searched for George for over an hour.

Cold, dirty and getting frustrated, we drove back down to the cemetery office to get a map. Back at the burial site we continued our search, laughing about how George was probably somewhere laughing his ass off, saying “That’s what you get for forgetting my wreath last year!” About a half an hour of searching later, when a very kind black man in a nice, full-length camel colored pea coat came over and helped us. He showed us where to look for the grave site number on the memorials, and then we found George. We cleared off his memorial as best we could (it was pretty muddy) and set up the bronze vase as a holder for the wreath. We took a moment to pay our respects and wish George a Merry Christmas, and then got back in the car to head over to Grandpa’s.

Grandpa now resides at Cheltenham Veterans Cemetery. The last time we visited him, the grass hadn’t grown in yet and there was a big crevasse in the earth at the end of his plot. I remember looking up at Mom and Dad and saying, “Grandpa got out!” This time, Grandpa was surrounded by a well-manicured, leaf-free lawn and the same biting December wind that used our hair as tooth floss and made our red noses run. We placed a boxwood, juniper and pine cone wreath on Grandpa’s headstone — Grandma chose the juniper wreath for her late husband because he was color-blind, and therefore wouldn’t have been able to see the red holly berries against the greenery. Good call, Grandma, and Merry Christmas, Grandpa!

It was really nice to be able to spend the day visiting our dearly departed while in the company of loved ones. The day was made even more special when you consider that my Grandma just had her 94th birthday on November 30!

I hope that everyone takes a moment this holiday season to spend time with those that mean the most to them. Merry Christmas!