Thursday, January 12, 2012
Resolutions vs. Goals
Well, 2012 has come. Almost two weeks ago, but who's counting?
I don't make new years resolutions, haven't since I was forced to, and this year will be no different. But, I do set goals. Goals are different from resolutions in that there is a lesser guilt factor in not completing a goal as opposed to "breaking" a resolution.
As a child, I was forced to sit down and come up with some fancy resolution for the year, write it down, share it with my parents who would then use it against me for the remainder of the year. NYE was a ton o'fun and just another day that followed the huge disappointment that was Christmas.
I have always thought of rules as something meant to be broken and resolutions as setup for failure. The pressure to keep a resolution, especially one that was forced upon you, is more than anyone can handle. So, I set goals. My goals are the things I decide should be done by me, they don't include anyone else, and may or may not ever be "complete" but rather something that is worked on over time. I have had a goal since I was a teenager: to avoid obesity at all cost. This is a lifetime goal. Now, had I set that as a resolution for a single year, would that mean that the year after I could say fuck-it and become obese? Or, fail all together and just say fuck-it that year and eat cookies? No.
I have set a new goal: I am going to learn to dress myself. This may sound like a given to anyone else, but what I mean is that I am going to stop wishing I had some sense of style and just start having one. The one I see in my head of me. Every once in a while I make some effort to actually put a coordinated outfit together, I will even go as far as to add a piece of jewelry or two to complete the look. This will happen for about three days and then I will run out of wardrobe choices, creativity, energy and focus.
My boyfriends eight year old daughter said to me not too long ago that I'm kind of like a tom-boy and plain while my friend "A" is more "fashioney" (I love eight year old words) and does her hair pretty and wears pretty outfits and shoes and jewelry. I don't remember exactly how she said it, but basically, it was in disapproval of the way I could be mistaken for wearing her dads clothes, which I am guilty of, the majority of the time. Huh...thanks kid... I love her to pieces for her brutal honesty.
Part of the problem is that my wardrobe is not very big, or very diverse. I wear jeans and T-shirts, usually in shades of white, gray and black. Thus, my entire wardrobe coordinates in a tom-boy sort of way. Almost all my clothing can be worn with my ugly combat boots or my super awesome Harley boots, the two or three dresses I own included - and I like it that way. I don't like to wear anything that is fussy, has too much pattern, color, color splotches, animals, animal patterns, etc. And I'm weird about textures in fabric AND the fabric itself. I also don't like anything touching my neck because it feels like I'm on the verge of being strangled all day.
I like shoes though. Probably an understatement and maybe a little bit too much. I have my favorite go to shoes for every day (boots) and I never seem to have a problem with shoes. The only problem I have with shoes, if one could even consider this a problem, is where to store them all when I'm not wearing them and how to make them accessible enough that I can wear any of them at any given time. Shoes are easy. And fun. And always fit. The size of my foot doesn't fluctuate the way the rest of me seems to on a regular basis.
I do have some clothes that hang up, in the same basic color scheme with the addition of a couple purple and one orange shirt, but they don't get worn that often AND the moon, stars and planets have to align perfectly for me to be comfortable enough in them to actually leave the house without a hasty change in the closet itself leaving clothes strewn about for me to clean up later because now I'm running late because I feel like this orange shirt makes me stand out too much or my arms look especially fat it in today, etc. If only everyone had my "problems". Right? (wink)
I have fat jeans, skinny jeans, jeans with cool back pockets, faded jeans, baggy jeans, jeans with holes in them, jeans to wear with heels, jeans to wear with flip flops, which are usually the same as the jeans I wear with heels thus the frayed hems on ALL my jeans (I'm short). I have big T-shirts, small T-shirts, T-shirts with race logos, fitted T-shirts, V-neck T-shirts, scoop neck T-shirts, even a T-shirt with buttons down the back. Out of the entire T-shirt collection, I believe 2 are olive green, one is tan, one is purple but it's about to hit the trash, one has a flower on it (twas a gift) and all are in some stage of "old" looking and have at least one hole in them giving the impression that I live in a nest of moths. Really, I think my washing machine just gets very very hungry because I have no idea where these holes come from. Or, it's full of razor-blades that only seem to touch my clothing.
I have on occasion, determined to make a change, gone out and actually purchased new clothing, something out of the norm, a color, a fabric other than 100% cotton and then immediately returned them all to the store for lack of ability to work them into my wardrobe or just felt that it wasn't me. Stacy & Clinton would be appalled.
So, as a 37, soon to be 38 year old woman, my goal is to figure out how the hell to dress myself in some sort of adult fashion. I do actually have lofty goals but am completely lost in how to achieve them and generally end up dressed like this.
when there is this stylish and perfectly accessorized person waiting to get out:
So included in my goal is purchasing clothing. Not clothing from the $10 T-Shirt rack at Old Navy and loading up on two white, two black and a gray to get me through a season until they become too full of holes to be considered appropriate work attire, but actual womens clothing as opposed to the androgynous wardrobe I currently own.
Perhaps once I have not dressing myself like a toddler down, I'll move on to accessorizing. I won't even talk about my hair right now, that's a later discussion.
Or, I'll just stay forever tom-boy with my ugly boots, leather belt & jacket that I've had since I was 19 and collection of drab T-shirts. After all, it is just a goal...
I don't make new years resolutions, haven't since I was forced to, and this year will be no different. But, I do set goals. Goals are different from resolutions in that there is a lesser guilt factor in not completing a goal as opposed to "breaking" a resolution.
As a child, I was forced to sit down and come up with some fancy resolution for the year, write it down, share it with my parents who would then use it against me for the remainder of the year. NYE was a ton o'fun and just another day that followed the huge disappointment that was Christmas.
I have always thought of rules as something meant to be broken and resolutions as setup for failure. The pressure to keep a resolution, especially one that was forced upon you, is more than anyone can handle. So, I set goals. My goals are the things I decide should be done by me, they don't include anyone else, and may or may not ever be "complete" but rather something that is worked on over time. I have had a goal since I was a teenager: to avoid obesity at all cost. This is a lifetime goal. Now, had I set that as a resolution for a single year, would that mean that the year after I could say fuck-it and become obese? Or, fail all together and just say fuck-it that year and eat cookies? No.
I have set a new goal: I am going to learn to dress myself. This may sound like a given to anyone else, but what I mean is that I am going to stop wishing I had some sense of style and just start having one. The one I see in my head of me. Every once in a while I make some effort to actually put a coordinated outfit together, I will even go as far as to add a piece of jewelry or two to complete the look. This will happen for about three days and then I will run out of wardrobe choices, creativity, energy and focus.
My boyfriends eight year old daughter said to me not too long ago that I'm kind of like a tom-boy and plain while my friend "A" is more "fashioney" (I love eight year old words) and does her hair pretty and wears pretty outfits and shoes and jewelry. I don't remember exactly how she said it, but basically, it was in disapproval of the way I could be mistaken for wearing her dads clothes, which I am guilty of, the majority of the time. Huh...thanks kid... I love her to pieces for her brutal honesty.
Part of the problem is that my wardrobe is not very big, or very diverse. I wear jeans and T-shirts, usually in shades of white, gray and black. Thus, my entire wardrobe coordinates in a tom-boy sort of way. Almost all my clothing can be worn with my ugly combat boots or my super awesome Harley boots, the two or three dresses I own included - and I like it that way. I don't like to wear anything that is fussy, has too much pattern, color, color splotches, animals, animal patterns, etc. And I'm weird about textures in fabric AND the fabric itself. I also don't like anything touching my neck because it feels like I'm on the verge of being strangled all day.
I like shoes though. Probably an understatement and maybe a little bit too much. I have my favorite go to shoes for every day (boots) and I never seem to have a problem with shoes. The only problem I have with shoes, if one could even consider this a problem, is where to store them all when I'm not wearing them and how to make them accessible enough that I can wear any of them at any given time. Shoes are easy. And fun. And always fit. The size of my foot doesn't fluctuate the way the rest of me seems to on a regular basis.
I do have some clothes that hang up, in the same basic color scheme with the addition of a couple purple and one orange shirt, but they don't get worn that often AND the moon, stars and planets have to align perfectly for me to be comfortable enough in them to actually leave the house without a hasty change in the closet itself leaving clothes strewn about for me to clean up later because now I'm running late because I feel like this orange shirt makes me stand out too much or my arms look especially fat it in today, etc. If only everyone had my "problems". Right? (wink)
I have fat jeans, skinny jeans, jeans with cool back pockets, faded jeans, baggy jeans, jeans with holes in them, jeans to wear with heels, jeans to wear with flip flops, which are usually the same as the jeans I wear with heels thus the frayed hems on ALL my jeans (I'm short). I have big T-shirts, small T-shirts, T-shirts with race logos, fitted T-shirts, V-neck T-shirts, scoop neck T-shirts, even a T-shirt with buttons down the back. Out of the entire T-shirt collection, I believe 2 are olive green, one is tan, one is purple but it's about to hit the trash, one has a flower on it (twas a gift) and all are in some stage of "old" looking and have at least one hole in them giving the impression that I live in a nest of moths. Really, I think my washing machine just gets very very hungry because I have no idea where these holes come from. Or, it's full of razor-blades that only seem to touch my clothing.
I have on occasion, determined to make a change, gone out and actually purchased new clothing, something out of the norm, a color, a fabric other than 100% cotton and then immediately returned them all to the store for lack of ability to work them into my wardrobe or just felt that it wasn't me. Stacy & Clinton would be appalled.
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| Disapproval is evident |
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| $7 Lynyrd Skynyrd T, Jeans AND a watch, how creative! |
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| Still in Jeans and probably a T-shirt in there somewhere and awesome black fingernails - wishing I could see her feet though... |
The problem with the stylish and perfectly accessorized me waiting to get out is that the layered look I love so much, requires more than one article of clothing for each body quadrant.
For example, the outfit below requires three tops! THREE! Well, two and a jacket. That's three times the cost of just one shirt, and how on earth would I know that those items coordinate!?! The top is sequined, the shirt is denim and the jacket is who knows what. Am I really the only woman that just doesn't get this?
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| The boots (awesome BTW) and jeans are a no brainer, but the top half, and that fabulous ring, is a complete mystery to me! |
Perhaps once I have not dressing myself like a toddler down, I'll move on to accessorizing. I won't even talk about my hair right now, that's a later discussion.
Or, I'll just stay forever tom-boy with my ugly boots, leather belt & jacket that I've had since I was 19 and collection of drab T-shirts. After all, it is just a goal...
Monday, January 9, 2012
Almost There!
So, I'm almost finished with the "little" kitchen project I started a over a week ago. I need to find a solution to the ugly trash/recycling situation and the blanket door. Yes, blanket door.
Both have the requirement of being cost friendly so I need to get creative...
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| Fugg!! - old icky garbage can and laundry bin converted to recycling can. Need to find an attractive inexpensive solution. |
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| Blanket Door's purpose to to keep the cold air from the laundry room from infiltrating the kitchen. The laundry room is like a meat locker in the winter. If there ever was insulation in that part of the house, squirrels ate it. |
Both have the requirement of being cost friendly so I need to get creative...
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
One Year, One Month and Ten Days
One year, one month and ten days! One year, one month and ten days we chanted as we rolled around the roller rink in the house that was actually the addition that hadn’t been finished yet. We were sure it was built just for us. We were nine and ten, roughly.
One year, one month and ten days was the distance in our ages. No matter how old I got, she would always be one year, one month and ten days older than me.
She, was my cousin Glenda, my first best friend.
Today is her birthday, January 4th, she was a Capricorn.
We had been separated when I was 12 when my family moved to Taiwan to pursue missionary work. Had that not occurred, I would have been banned from seeing her as the people that raised me would have thought her a bad influence.
We had a vague plan to meet up somewhere between Washington and New Mexico when I turned 18 and had escaped the oppression of what had been my life up to that point. We never got that far – I got a call shortly after I had moved out, just weeks after turning 18, and felt like my heart had been ripped out.
She was beautiful.
This year will mark 20 years that she has been gone, but never forgotten. I choose to acknowledge her birthday every year, to offer up a thought, as I do not pray.
Rest in peace my beautiful friend, rest in peace.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Afterthoughts
Not all posts will be as long as the first as not all days are as full of as much awesome as others. Some days may just plain suck and those days I will try to keep to myself unless its extreme suckage, like BeBub has finally made off with a limb.
What I want vs. What I get
It all started with an awesome Christmas gift...
In May of 2011 I left the home that I had worked endlessly, it seemed, restoring, beautifying, and perfecting every little detail. My home was immaculate, aside from the dust – but I hate dusting and had hardwood floors with a forced air furnace and anyone who’s had a combination of those two things knows exactly how hard it is to keep a house dust free.
Back to my story, in May of last year, I left my granite and cherry and stainless appliance, brand new kitchen for this. Why you ask? Only a crazy person would do that! Well, let me tell you, love. Ah love. Love can make a sane person crazy and a crazy person absolutely certifiable. Love can make you leave polished granite and shiny stainless steel. Sometimes, I’d like to run Love over with a car, then back up and run it over again just for good measure.
I had been thinking for some time how I could possibly rehab this kitchen that love made me have, wondering how I could make it even remotely functional. It’s rather large and having just remodeled a kitchen not that long ago, I knew that a complete remodel was out of the question. Not only do I not have the money right now, I just don’t have the “testicular fortitude”, as my ever so eloquent older brother would put it, to pull off such a huge project at this time.
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| Kitchen Nightmare |
Within minutes I had a list in hand and was off to my favorite store – Lowes. Home Depot is a close second, but I don’t like their orange vest/apron thingies, even though in my almost entirely black, gray and white wardrobe, orange is a color I will actually wear.
I’m odd, this will become more evident.
My trip to Lowes was immediately successful in that I found the hinge to the missing cupboard door. This bode well for the rest of my excursion and I held out hope as I walked to the “Storage” isle. I found what I was looking for right away but had to ask an “associate” for help when I couldn’t figure out how something went together and didn’t want to break it to make it work then be stuck with it. Figured I’d let her break it – luckily the first associate was able to call another associate to assist me in cutting shelving to the right length. And here I thought I’d be hunched over the front porch stairs with a hacksaw for hours. Awwwwwwe, bummer. As it was, I forgot to have Second Associate cut one of the top rails and ended up over the sink, hacksawing away for what seemed like a goddamned hour, when in reality it was only a couple of minutes. But, I hate the hacksaw, I feel as though it has something out for me and as such, never works as it should. It bends, it binds, it slides about and never cuts a straight line and usually ends up chewing some piece of my hand off in its ruthless fury for a blood sacrifice. I was too lazy to go to the garage, having already been there once to retrieve the drill, to get a metal blade for the Sawsall, and pulling out the Sawsall for a single one and a half inch rail seemed like a bit of overkill. But, the Sawsall loves me, and I it – we have history.
Aaaaaaaaaaaand back on topic. Left Lowes, made a bee line for the fabric store. When I left the house I had a theme in mind, bees, honey, country kitchen type thing. Why? Oh, cuz there is a Winnie the Poo cookie jar that my boyfriend keeps – not sure on the story, but it’s been glued back together a few times. Once at the fabric store I realized this was not going to be as successful as Adventures in Lowesland and decisions would need to be made. AAAHHHHH!!! I hate making decisions, well I do and I don’t, I suck at them and then I’m great at them. I’m a perpetual contradiction of myself. Like, I don’t wear color, black, white and gray it is – but I’ll make concessions for orange? What the hell is that about? If someone, like me, fears color in their wardrobe wouldn’t the logical choice to be to add a navy blue, or a deep purple (which I also allow, periodically)? But nooooOOOOoooo, orange it is. Weird. Then again, I just am.
Back on topic! The fabric store offers a wide variety of decision making dilemmas. I went with a plan, plan did not work out, on to Plan B – but I didn’t come with one. Going back to the country cute kitchen idea I thought I could pick two colors, make the fabrics look “quilty” adding to the country cute theme. I really really wanted to go black and white, it physically hurt me to look at other colors but, I picked two patterns of blues and whites that went together in a quilty way, set them on the cutting table, waited, cutter guy was helping someone else, more than 30 seconds elapsed so I was off looking at blacks and whites again. Found, brought THOSE back to the cutting table. Cutter guy was helping someone else again, this time a lady with really really badly lined lips and I wanted to tell her, but you know, that’s just not nice and she seemed like she was, but still – it was real bad. Lip Liner Lady distracted me enough that I was actually able to wait and make a solid decision on the fabric and I went with the blue and white because it seemed more “Country Cute” and the black and white were, well, modern and more me. But, this wasn’t about me. It is, but it’s not.
I ran home with my loot in tow and after several trips back and forth from car to house and house to car I had my work laid out for me. I wanted this to be a surprise to the boyfriend so I ran upstairs to see if he would be coming down any time soon, he was in fact getting ready to leave (perfect) so I asked him to wait while I covered my haul with a sheet lest he figure out exactly what I was up to. I asked how long he’d be gone, he said about 2 hours and asked if I would be done by then. I said that was an optimistic estimate, he said his was too – perfect again. I practically shoved him out the door, say Iloveyou, callbeforeyoucomehome. And got to work.
First order of business: find that pesky hacksaw. Actually, take photographic evidence because no one (that actually knows me) will believe the wreck that I’ve been living in for the past seven plus months. Then go find the hacksaw.
Hacksaw, I’m going to call him Beelzebub or BeBub for short, was in the basement, I hate the basement – earlier that morning I had to torch a spider that was hanging in the entryway blocking me and the Christmas decorations from going down the stairs. Going down my hands were full, if he’d have just moved while I was down there he would have been home free. But, forcing me to duck going down and on my way back up so I didn’t get spider in my hair was just too much. Sorry spidey, but this is my house.
Once BeBub had it’s blood sacrifice, and the boyfriend had made a trip back having forgot something, me having to run something outside to him so he wouldn’t come in and see what I was doing, I measured and leveled and attached and drilled and did all the fun stuff that I love to do. I really do love this sort of thing, as much as I love quilting, or making stained glass. See, perpetual contradiction.
I used all the parts I had, noted that I had some “extras” and was also short a few due to last minute change in the design and functionality. I need to run back to Lowes, but I also need to call the boyfriend and make sure he’s not on his way back. Ringing, ringing, ringing, to voicemail. Try again, same result. So I send a text saying I have to run to Lowes, please don’t be on your way home. I grab my extras for exchange, my list for additional items and take off. I get to Lowes, I don’t have my wallet – in my hurry to get out the door so I could get back so boyfriend wouldn’t see, I forgot to grab my wallet. Arrrrggggg. I’m driving the boyfriends truck because he took my car and the truck is on “E” with the fuel light blinking at me like a demon in the dashboard. Completely distracted and in a hurry, I overshot my street and ended up a block over, no worries, I’ll just put gas in the truck so the demon stops flirting with me, pull up, stop, oh crap - I don’t have my wallet. Drive back to the house, run in, grab wallet, head back to the gas station since Truck seems to be complaining rather obviously about its empty belly. Just feet from the gas station, literally a few truck lengths away, Truck stops. Just stops. A couple seconds later starts back up, as if to say SYKE!!! and I slowly, barely pushing the gas pedal work my way to the pump. Ahhhhh crisis averted.
Got to Lowes, exchanged my extras, picked up my additions and headed home. Got a call from the boyfriend saying he was on his way home and wanting to know if I was done. NO I say, NOT DONE! So he says he’ll try to find somewhere to go for a bit, but he’ll let me know. Not long afterward I send him a text saying, I’m missing two parts still so I am done for the night, he can come home – with the obligatory frownie face included to portray my unhappiness with the situation. He says he’ll be home shortly so I got to work on the sewing part of the project.
I still have some work to do, but I’m not that far from having a completely functional kitchen.
Did I mention that I started this at three in the afternoon? I was cleaned up and ready for bed by nine-thirty.
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| Before - not even room for my awesome Christmas present! |
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| After - room for The Awesome and then some. I still have some work to do to finish the lower cabinet drape, but this is an excellent start. |
Where oh where did the microwave go? and the coffee maker?
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| Up - the microwave went up |
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| Before - all kinds of Un-Awesome |
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| After - "Coffee Station" in the corner |
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| Ugh, seriously? |
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| After - It's not "designer" by any means, but note the return of the Prodigal Cabinet Door... |
So while my kitchen may not be this:
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| Want! |
At least it is no longer this:
And while what I want and what I get are two VASTLY different things, at least my kitchen now functions as a kitchen. I have a little work to do to finish up, but will probably get that done tonight and will post a final pic.
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