Thursday, January 31, 2013

Why I Nearly Lost It At The Supermarket.

Most people know not to go grocery shopping when they are hungry.  Everyone knows you should leave your kid home if you can.  Women know that when they are PMSing like a fiend to stay out of the store.  Avoid the areas of the store that are triggers for you when you're dieting is another piece of sage wisdom you'll hear out on the streets.

Wanna know what I did today?

I needed to pick up a few essentials to get through the week.  We were out of eggs, a staple on this low calorie diet thing I'm doing.  I'm nearly out of yogurt.  I wanted some reduced fat/lower calorie cheese because I miss cheese so much my heart is breaking, that is of course when it isn't cheering me on for not eating so much real cheese in the last month.  The kid was out of a few of the 5 things he likes to eat.  Nathan had a half day at school so it seemed like the best day to hit the store.

While I was there, I thought it would be a good idea to start gathering some items for Saturday night when we intend to have a few people over for my husband's birthday.  Nothing fancy, mind you, just some apps and snacks.  I'm a big fan of killing two birds with one stone when I can.

So, what's the problem, you ask?  

For starters, I want to eat the universe.  I've been doing so well on my diet, but I want to eat all of the pizzas and at least half of the burritos.  I don't want to be on a diet today.  I want to eat cheese and grease and salt and crunchy things and then, when I get done with that, I want cake and ice cream and cupcakes and more ice cream and then maybe top it off with some hot, delicious, buttery popcorn.  That would be my appetizer because then I want fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy for dinner.  And now that you mention it, Chinese food sounds good too.

In addition, and this may come as a surprise to you, I might be suffering from the pre-menstrual syndrome.  I am at my wit's end with the world in general and my already pretty short fuse is even shorter than usual.  I have a headache, a backache, a neckache, an overache and my tear ducts feel about ready to explode.  In short, I'm a mess.

So when my son decided to touch every single thing in the store and then talk from the parking lot all around and back, I quickly realized what a monumentally stupid idea it was to go out in public.  He kept walking away which would be fine if we were the only ones in the store or this kid paid any attention to where he was walking, or ideally, both.  

"Mom can I have...?"
"Why?????"
"No FAIR!!"

He used every single irritating phrase in his arsenal.  And then just when I'd had my fill and he called my name again and I snapped "WHAT?" at him because I was just so tired of being spoken to, you know what he said to me?  He said, "I love you, Mommy."

Sigh.  Parent of the year over here, folks.

By the time we got to the check out, naturally everyone else was there already.  After an eternity of telling this child that he couldn't have every candy in the aisle, it was finally our turn.  I chose the self-check out because I just couldn't bear the thought of yet another human interaction.  But, because I have such amazing luck, every third thing got stuck and the store clerk had to come over and unfreeze the belt.  Then the bagging area was always full so I had to run down and bag while Nathan insisted upon trying to continue to take things from the cart and load them up on that stupid little metal sliding tray at the front of the lane, dropping things and knocking over magazines while trying to pick them up.

And those bags.  Yes, I know, I have no right to complain about the stupid cheap always ripping plastic shopping bags when I have a ton of reusable shopping bags at home, but I forgot mine, OK?  So I had to use theirs and they were sticking together and ripping even as I loaded the groceries.  And you can only put one thing in each bag because otherwise they tear and everything falls out all over the street when you try to unload your car, not that I know that first hand because it's not like that ever happened to me and then I had to chase the friggin diet soup down the damn street as the now dented can rolled away.  No.  I'm not speaking from experience.

So as I'm bagging and scanning and begging this kid to just stop talking for one minute, the single guy buying one pint of ice cream (which I can't have you know 'cause of the diet) and one package of ground beef has to choose to get behind us and then proceed to sigh and huff and puff and shuffle his weight back and forth between his legs because, yes, I know, I am taking too GD long to check out.  Don't think, Guy, that I didn't see your impatience, but seriously, what do you want from me?  Tread lightly, dude.  Seriously.  I am in no effing mood.

Sigh.

We got out to the car. Nathan complained about dinner and what he presumed I would make him eat.  He wouldn't buckle his seat belt because he insisted on watching me load groceries into the trunk.  He couldn't take his eyes off me, you know, because remember how much he loves me?  (That earned me my second nomination of the night for parent of the year.)

After 10 minutes trying to get out of the lot, between every granny walking past my car, the cart collector leaving the train of 500 carts right behind my car and then traffic while someone waited for a spot, we finally headed home.

And then the kid asked for McDonald's.  I didn't even answer him.  If I attempted any words, there would be tears.  And yelling.  So I said nothing.

I feel better telling you all this.  You might think I'm crazy, and that's totally fine because you will get absolutely no argument from me.

Epilogue:  Last night we ordered a pizza.  It was delicious.  I ate too much and felt like crap afterwards.  I wrote this while I waited for the pizza and then forgot to actually post it.  I realized this morning that I forgot to buy myself yogurt, one of the things I really needed.  And my kid's rancid, annoying behavior?  No doubt it was a result of the Influenza A he came down with today.  Which is, as you'd guess, just awesome.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Landline.

The light on the phone base was blinking again.  Every day I check the phone and every day the message light is blinking.

Sometimes it's debt collection agencies looking for Tunisia or Raymond.  Other times the calls are business service solicitations for the auto parts store that used to have our number.

Every day I delete them all and place the handset back on the cradle.  We don't give out the number to the landline.  We use our cell phones for everything so I really don't expect to have messages intended for my family.  I consider giving up the house phone sometimes, but ultimately I always decide to keep it.

Shortly after we moved into this house, I gave my new phone number to my father.  In this very brief conversation almost three years ago now, I told him how to reach me in case he was ever looking for me.  I gave him our new number knowing that he hated to call the cell phone.

I almost told him he could call me any time, but the truth is I didn't want him to do that. I stopped myself before I let the words slip out.  In the five minutes we spoke, I wondered if he'd say that he wanted to call me again some time.  He did not.

What I should have told him was that I want his wife to call me when he dies.  That's really the only time I want them to use my number, but at best it's an awkward request.  It's not the kind of thing you tell someone.  There's no way to say that without sounding cruel.

I don't want him to call me when my stepmother dies.  When she is gone, he will need someone to take care of him.  That someone can't be me.  I won't help him, whether he asks me to or not.  I will feel guilty about it and I will struggle with my decision.  I can only hope that when the time comes, if the time does come, I will stand firm in my resolve.

I don't want the burden of his phone calls.  But I do want the satisfaction of rejecting him.  I want him to look for me and find I'm not there.  I want to be the one with the power this time.

Most of all, I want to know when all of this is finally behind me the only way it truly can be.  

Every day, when I come home from work, I check the landline.  The light is always blinking.  All of these thoughts run through my mind as I type in *86, then my pass code, then 1 for messages, then 1 again for new messages.  I listen to each voicemail, or at least enough to know that I don't need credit card services for a business I don't have and I don't know Raymond or Tunisia so I can't help get their debts paid.  One by one I delete them all, until the the phone finally tells me I have no more new messages.

It's never my dad.  He's never looking for me.  It's never my stepmother, so I assume my dad is still alive.

Maybe tomorrow.

 
I'm linking up with the amazingly supportive community over at Yeah Write.  Read the entries and return on Thursday to vote for five favorites.  If you're a writer, poke around and consider joining us.  If you're a wealthy philanthropist (or someone with a couple bucks lying around), consider becoming a supporting subscriber.


Edited to add:  This post tied for first (or came in second, depending on how you like to view these things) in the weekly popular vote.  I'm always honored to do well among such wonderful writers.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

You Can't Break Me, Little Girl.

Yesterday I took Nathan roller skating for the first time.  I used to go all the time, but I hadn't been in at least 20 years.  I went to a place about 20 miles from my house.  It happened to be the same place my grandfather used to skate at weekly, even in his 80s.  He skated there up until 3 months before his death in 2006.  This family has some pretty big skates to fill, so to speak.

It turns out that even though I haven't had wheels on my feet for decades, I can still skate.  My girlfriends and I are talking about a skating night sans kids and I'm really looking forward to actual skating.  Because I can tell you, what I did yesterday was not skating.

My son has never been on real skates.  He's worn those ridiculous over the shoe things that don't actually roll and I contend that they don't count.  He's never been in a rink and anyone who has skated outside as opposed to a rink will tell you that they are not at all the same thing.

I put the skates on the kid and he immediately did what any kid would do:  He started messing around, falling off the bench and spinning the wheels.  I helped him stand and try to get balance.  But the minute we started moving, the child panicked.

He started "running" in the skates like a cartoon character on ice.  No matter how many times my friend and I told him to stop moving his legs he wailed that he couldn't.  And then he fell.  But not before pulling my arm practically out of the socket.

My throat is raw from yelling over the music and children for him to calm down and just stand up.  I've never in my life seen a child who can take something fun and react to it like he's being tortured.

Eventually I was able to explain about center of gravity, shoulders over feet, keep your knees bent (but not kneeling down) and all that other stuff that you need to know to not fall over on skates.  He started to get it, but I still basically skated for an hour and a half while holding up a 43 pound child.

He fell many times, but I only fell three.  And, expert skater that I am, I only fell because Nathan tripped me.  It's really hard to skate with someone else's feet between yours, particularly when that someone else can't control his feet.

At one point, Nathan's wheels got caught in mine and I fell forward, knocking him to the floor.  I didn't want to crush him, so I put my arms out to try and stay above him.  When he stopped moving, I sat down to help him up.  Then, as I tried to hold him upright while getting myself up (of course we were not near the wall at this point), I heard clapping and "You can do it!" being shouted in my direction.  I looked and there was a tween sarcastically cheering me on.

I was feeling pretty young up to this point.  That is, until, this girl who is young enough to be MY CHILD made fun of me, in public.  I skated Nathan to the wall so he could take a break and make sure he was OK and I caught this older couple looking at me and giggling.  They looked like they were probably the grandparents of a tween.  I said, "Did that just happen?" and they nodded and laughed.  I said I felt old and they laughed more.

I thought I would not be able to walk today from soreness.  I'm actually not in too bad of shape.  I'm not 100% mind you, but considering I also painted for 3 hours yesterday before the skating, I feel pretty good.  That little girl can laugh at me all she wants.  I'm teaching my kid to skate and that is no easy feat, especially my kid.

And before she knows it, she'll realize that youth is fleeting and you don't stay twelve for long.  Soon enough, she'll hit her 30s, and maybe not be in such great shape.  And I hope if she falls down, through no fault of her own, some tween girl gives her and her kid a hand to help them up, recognizing what a mom will go through for her child.

Wait, no.  That's not true.  I hope if she falls down, some kid laughs at her and claps and tries to make her feel like crap.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

40 Months To 40.


In 40 months, I'll turn 40.  In honor of the big event, I've created a list of things I'd like to accomplish by then.  I only have 34 items on the list so far, leaving room for goals to develop since admittedly there is still quite a bit of time.  I've added two more items since the last time I posted it.

1.  Run a 5k.
2.  Run a 10k.
3.  Run a half marathon.
4.  Lose 40 pounds.
5.  Make significant steps toward reducing animal products in my diet.
6.  Finish my memoir.
7.  Publish my memoir.
8.  Buy Long Term Care insurance.
9.  Visit with a financial planner and map out a goal for retirement.
10.  Create and utilize a budget.
11.  Read 50 books.
12.  Redesign my blog under my own domain name.
13.  Sort and organize my mother's belongings.
14.  Live a more minimalist lifestyle.
15.  Save enough money to purchase our next vehicle in cash.
16.  Attend another blogging conference.
17.  Eliminate my dependence on caffeine.
18.  Unplug for one full week.
19.  Get a paid writing job.
20.  Create a usable space in the home office.
21.  Bag, Board and Catalog comic/magazine collection.
22.  Organize CD collection.
23.  Organize DVD collection.
24.  Create usable living space in attic.
25.  Create usable living space in basement.
26.  Organize (digitize?) all old writings.
27.  Make go-bags for all family members.
28.  Create an emergency bin with supplies.
29.  Buy a really awesome, unnecessarily expensive pair of jeans that make my ass look amazing.
30.  Buy a killer dress - cocktail? ball gown?  I don't know.
31.  Go to some event that requires me to wear the aforementioned dress.
32.  Go zip-lining.
33.  Get third tattoo.
34.  Climb a rock wall.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.

I've spent considerable time and energy on #4 (reduce animal products in diet) and #5 (lose 40 pounds).  I've lost 11 pounds since the new year and I have not had meat in 3 weeks.  I'm well aware that my weight loss is too rapid and I am working on slowing things down a bit.  And I won't pretend that I'll never eat meat again, but it's been a good month so far and overall I'm happy.

For #21 (comic book collection), I've made significant progress.  Almost all the books are bagged and boarded - nearly 10 long boxes worth.  We will hit 11 boxes before I'm done.  I had to get them boxed before I could start working on #20 (creating a usable space in the home office ).  Speaking of which, the ceiling is painted and the walls are edged.  My new desk is sitting in my hallway and as soon as the painting is done I'll be building it.  

#16 (attend another blogging conference) is planned:  Type A Parent in September is booked!  I'm really excited about going.  On the one hand I wish it was sooner because, seriously, I cannot wait to go, but on the other I'm glad there's some time so I can get in the right mental space by then. Right now my head is way too clouded to really get what I want out of it.

#10 (budget), #6 (memoir), #11 (read 50 books), #15 (saving for a car) have all been worked on.  Nothing reportable, but I've made steps in the direction of all of them this month.

When I put it all down like that, I realize I've been doing quite well actually.  The act of writing isn't happening as much as I'd like, but much thought has gone into it.  Once the office is usable again, I hope to be able to have the physical space for working on the memoir and some other writing projects in a more serious fashion.

I'll keep plugging away and I'll be back on February 24th to up date again.  Thanks to everyone who even remotely cares about this list of mine!

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Winter Doldrums.

I haven't been writing as much as I would like.  I sort of fell off track with the holidays.  My workload is heavy and while I'm not physically doing work all the time, my mind is on it or I'm wiped out by it.  Most nights I can't even think straight by the time my son is in bed because I'm so mentally exhausted.

The weather of late is getting me down, too.  I'm starting to think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder.  I want to be in San Diego.  The high there today is 71.  The high here in NJ is 48.  48 is pretty warm for NJ, so I really should just be happy about it.  I'm not though.  It's going to be at least two more months before the weather is consistently better and every year it seems harder and harder to take it.

The holidays left me run-down.  Just as we start to decompress from Christmas and our annual New Year's Eve celebration with friends, my son's birthday is upon us.  Then we have his birthday party.  It's a lot of running and doing and planning and what not for someone like me who honestly prefers to be home or in small groups most of the time.  Don't get me wrong, I love my family and my friends and all the time we have together.  I truly do.  But I also love and need downtime which is something that's been alluding me lately.

My insomnia and I have not been getting along, either.  I have cut out almost all caffeine.  Aside of some coffee in the morning, generally one K-cup worth, I'm decaf the rest of the day.  I'm still up most nights for an hour or two.  I've started bringing my laptop to bed with me so I can write through some of it, but that doesn't always work.  Sometimes 2am writing leads to some pretty incoherent, rambling nonsense.

I'm not void of ideas, though, which I suppose is a good thing.  I just need the time to work on them.  Time and some quiet is all I need and I can actually get something accomplished, I'm sure of it.

Spending most of my day thinking about writing and not being able to do it is torture.  I knew that it was going to take through most of January for my life to calm down enough that I would be able to concentrate and I'm really so close I can taste it.  I think being close might actually be making it harder.  It's sort of like being in May of my senior year of high school.  Graduation is right there.

It was right around this time last year that I was taking a writing class, I was committing to blogging and thinking about writing the memoir.  My goals weren't clear - I was going to write more.  I was going to make it a priority.  But what does that mean?  It means nothing, really, unless I commit to an actual goal.

Rather than go down the road of self-pity and feeling like a failure for being where I wanted to be though, I'm going to keep plugging away.  I'm going to decide what it is I want out of my writing and start making stuff happen.

I'm so excited about writing, it almost makes it bearable to get through the last few weeks of stress.  Almost.  


Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Talking About Bacon.

Nathan picked up a box of the precooked Oscar Meyer bacon that had been strategically placed near the egg display of our local supermarket.

"Mama!  Do you want bacon?" he shouted.

"No, not today, but thanks for asking," I replied as I opened cartons to check for broken eggs.

"But you love bacon!"

And now everyone in the tri-state area knows that the fat girl loves bacon.

This is how my mind works.  I feel like the first thing anyone sees when they look at me is a fat girl.  I hate meeting new people or seeing people who knew me when I was thin because I'm sure they are astounded by just how disgustingly large I am.

I realize that my reaction is extreme.  On an intellectual level, I see the difference between someone who needs to lose 19 pounds to hit the top of her healthy weight range (me) and someone who needs to lose, say, 100 pounds to hit that same mark.  I don't judge someone who has further to go on her weight loss journey than I do.  In fact, I encourage, I cheer on, I "you can do it!" with the best of them.

But my inner monologue goes nothing like that.  I look in the mirror and realize that even though my skinny jeans fit again, they are still a size 12.  And at less than 5 feet tall, that's just too big.  I don't just have muffin top, I have a whole bakery.  Without clothes on, I'm far more critical.  My arms look like giant sausages.  I have cankles.  My thighs, my ass, all of it is a revolting mess.

This morning I hit a milestone of sorts.  I have lost 9 pounds since January 3rd and I now have less than 30 to lose to hit my goal.  Initially, I was excited by the "less than 30" part, but  then I realized it's still "almost 30" which really isn't anything to celebrate.

I have become obsessed with my weight and I know this is possibly even more unhealthy than being overweight in the first place.  I am counting my calories and measuring all of my food.  I don't set out to have ridiculously low days, but last night when even after dinner I still had 900 calories in my bank of 1200 for the day, I was happy.  Surely I could scarf down an entire pizza if one showed up in front of me, but I'm actually not that hungry.  That's probably not a good thing.

I know my recent weight loss has happened too quickly.  I know I'm not eating enough.  Yesterday was unusual.  I usually get closer to my calorie goal.  I don't hit it, though, and while I'm always happy at the end of the day to see how little food I was able to survive on, I know that the other extreme on the spectrum of food consumption isn't any better for me.

I think about food and my size all day long.  I wish I could lose weight and be healthy in a healthy way.  I don't want my son to mimic my unhealthy behaviors.  I don't want him to eat junk and be overweight, but I don't want him to obsess and think he needs to control every morsel that he ingests, either.

***

Nathan was standing there, holding the bacon out to me.  I know he thought he was doing something good by helping to shop and by selecting something he knew I liked.  I didn't want to discourage his sweetness or plant seeds of self-image issues into his six-year-old mind.

"I do enjoy bacon, but it should be a once in a while treat.  There are healthier choices we can make.  Put it back, please, and come on.  Let's finish up here."

I placed the eggs in the cart and ushered him along to pick out some yogurt.


Linking up with the wonderful Yeah Write crew.  Read the other entries and return Thursday to vote for 5 favorites.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Garden Gate.

When I was a kid, if I felt I had been treated unjustly, I would accuse my mother of not loving me.  She would get upset, say that she did, and hugs and kisses would abound.  Then one day, her response changed.

That day she replied, "You're right.  Right now, I don't love you because of the way you're acting."

I never made the accusation again because I couldn't bear to hear the confirmation of what I believed to be the truth.  Instead, I employed a new tactic.  I threatened to run away.  For a while, this elicited the desired response of asking me to stay, assuring me I was wanted at home.

But the coddling didn't last long.  After the umpteenth threat, my mother held open the front door and said, "Good. Go."

I brushed past her in the way only a girl can when she's trying to prove she is stronger than her mother.  She was calling my bluff and in a fury I was going to show her she couldn't break me.  But after only walking half a block away, shielded by an apartment building, I sobbed for a few moments. Realizing leaving wasn't even slightly possible, I returned home, head lowered in shame. False threats get a young girl nowhere.

Sometimes I feel like not much has changed. I have more sophisticated ways of garnering the attention I'm looking for.  I sometimes deny that my blatant attempts to solicit affection and approval are not what they seem.

I convince myself that the results I get are genuine and true and not forced from others. I pretend that people don't say what I want to hear to placate me and that they would have said it anyway even if I hadn't begged for it. I fool myself into believing that I'm worthy of the accolades that I guilt others into bestowing upon me.

They say that if you water a garden and tend to it properly, beautiful flowers will grow there. But what if all the garden ever really was made up of was weeds in poor soil?  You can spend years dumping water and plant food on it and nothing beautiful will grow. You can get down on the ground, fingers covered in dirt and really work the land, but if the soil is void of all nutrients, no matter what you plant there it will die.

I feel like I'm standing in that rotten garden, overrun with weeds.  What grows soon wilts, mocking me for yet another failed attempt.  But this time I see the garden gate is wide open, silent screaming, "Good.  Go."

This time I'm not stopping to cry and I'm not turning back.







Linking up with Yeah Write, a super supportive community of writers.  Please click through, read the other entries, and return on Thursday to vote for favorites.  And if you're so inclined, why not submit your own piece?

EDITED TO ADD:  Hey, look at this!  This post earned the #3 spot on the popular vote of Yeah Write 91.  So honored to be in the Top Row Five with four other talented writers.  Thanks to all who voted.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Six Years Old.

"Mommy?" he asked in his most serious whisper.

"Yeah, hun?"

As I stood by his bed, holding his hand and hoping he'd fall asleep quickly, I knew this was not his usual stall tactic.  He was about to ask me a real question.

"Mommy, how do you know I'll turn six tomorrow?"

"Because it's your birthday tomorrow.  January 2nd.  You know that."

His big brown eyes looked up at me, fighting to stay open.  Even in just the glow of the night lights, I could see his brow was furrowed in the familiar way when something was on his mind.

"But how do you know that I'll be six tomorrow and not on the twelfth when we have my party?"

I giggled to myself.  I sighed with relief and the pure tenderness of his innocence.

"Honey, tomorrow's your birthday.  You turn six tomorrow.  We just pick a convenient day to have your party.  We like to give people time to get settled after the holidays."

"Oh," he replied, satisfied.  He snuggled down onto his pillow and his eyes started to close again.

At night, when he's just about to fall asleep, he's at his sweetest.  His innocence shines through.  He is so clearly a child, yearning to learn and to know everything that he can.  It is then that I see most clearly that even though he pretends to be so independent, so sure of himself, really he's just a boy.

He's my boy.

He was a beautiful, little, tiny baby.  6 lbs, 3 oz., and only 15 days early, but he didn't fit in regular newborn clothes.  I had to buy preemie clothes so that things would stay on him.

Look at the waistband on the pants!  January 4, 2007
But he grew and got even cuter.

September 2007

And bigger.

December 2008
And sillier.

January 2, 2010, yelling, "I'm three!"

And he started looking more like a boy and less like a baby.

January 15, 2011

And he started doing big kid things.

June 26, 2011

He had interests and took pride in his accomplishments.

January 17, 2012

He started kindergarten.

September 6, 2012
Even though he didn't WANT to start kindergarten.

He was not pleased with the first day of school photo shoot.

Right now he has a one-track mind.  It's all Angry Birds, all the time with him these days.  

January 1, 2013, last day as a 5 year old.

He's still my beautiful baby boy, just much, much larger.

Happy Birthday, Nathan!  I love you more than you'll ever know.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Focusing on Not Resolving.

For years I made resolutions with clear goals that I promptly failed at.  The primary reason for my failure was simple in all cases:  The goals were ridiculous.  One cannot expect to lose fifty pounds with no plan and especially not a plan that includes twice-weekly pizza.  One cannot expect to eliminate all processed foods from a household where the child refuses to eat homemade food.  One cannot expect to cook every single meal from scratch if one also has a job and aspirations in addition to the one to cook every single night from scratch.

So for 2012, I tried a different approach.  You can read last year's notes to self in lieu of resolutions here.  I think it's fair to say that I accomplished some of this, but not all.

For 2013, I'm going to try a new different approach.  Recently I made a Forty Things To Do Before I Turn Forty list.  Over the course of the next year, I'm going to work hard on this list.  I'm going to focus on adding the rest of the items to the list, because you'll notice that it's only up to 32.  Also, if you're really paying attention I made a slight change to one of the items.

They aren't resolutions or goals to be completed this year.  But I'm going to focus on working on these things because they will all bring me closer to the person I want to be. I have 3 years, 4 months and 23 days to accomplish these goals.  My intention is to post updates on the 24th of each month, since my birthday is on the 24th.  That's pretty clever, no?

So happy new year to all of you.  Thank you for all the love and support and friendship in 2012 and I'm looking forward to another year of The Journey.

In case you aren't interested in linking back to the old post, here's the 40 By 40 list so far.


1.  Run a 5k.
2.  Run a 10k.
3.  Run a half marathon.
4.  Lose 40 pounds.
5.  Make significant steps toward reducing animal products in my diet.
6.  Finish my memoir.
7.  Publish my memoir.
8.  Buy Long Term Care insurance.
9.  Visit with a financial planner and map out a goal for retirement.
10.  Create and utilize a budget.
11.  Read 50 books.
12.  Redesign my blog under my own domain name.
13.  Sort and organize my mother's belongings.
14.  Live a more minimalist lifestyle.
15.  Save enough money to purchase our next vehicle in cash.
16.  Attend another blogging conference.
17.  Eliminate my dependence on caffeine.
18.  Unplug for one full week.
19.  Get a paid writing job.
20.  Create a usable space in the home office.
21.  Bag, Board and Catalog comic/magazine collection.
22.  Organize CD collection.
23.  Organize DVD collection.
24.  Create usable living space in attic.
25.  Create usable living space in basement.
26.  Organize (digitize?) all old writings.
27.  Make go-bags for all family members.
28.  Create an emergency bin with supplies.
29.  Buy a really awesome, unnecessarily expensive pair of jeans that make my ass look amazing.
30.  Buy a killer dress - cocktail? ball gown?  I don't know.
31.  Go to some event that requires me to wear the aforementioned dress.
32.  Go zip-lining.
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