What To Look For In the New Year

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It's that special time of year when I skip workouts, avoid scales and revert to my college wardrobe of sweatpants and t-shirts regardless of what the social occasion calls for. God, I love the close of a year. 

Bad personal hygiene habits aside, I also enjoy the end of the year because it signals a chance for a fresh start in the new one. That's right, I'm a resolution girl. Nothing makes me happier then to pull out pen and paper and catalog the ways I will be not only better but PERFECT in the New Year. 

Here's a glimpse into my "Dena, only better" goals for 2013.  

  1. Write Every Day. Could be 50 words, could be 5,000. I will write new words every day and blog posts don't count. No time off for holidays, birthdays, weekends, etc. either. Write, Dena. W-R-I-T-E.
  2. Publish 4 Magazine Articles. 
  3. No TV for January. I know I can't go all year with no TV, but I'd like to spend less time zoning and figure cold-turkey is the way to go. 
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Smug Marrieds: Face Lift

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Sunday night, 5:40 pm. Harris residence. Christmas trees - fired up. Cats - snoozing.

Blair - relaxing in library. Dena - front room watching TV. All is well on nigh. Until...

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Dena: Blair! Blair, get in here! Now!

Blair: Why? (He no longer reacts to cries of panic, me having cried wolf one too many times during our many years of marriage. Sad.) 

Dena: I'm getting sucked into an infomercial. My powers to resist are fading. Get in here. 

Blair: What's it for?

Dena: I'm not sure. Some sort of face-lift-botox-stand-in-alternative-to-chemical-peel thingee. You can put it in the freezer. Looks cool. 

Blair: You don't need a face lift. (Sound of Wall Street Journal rustling as he turns a page.)

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Smug Marrieds: We're Praying For You (Blair)

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Driving to Asheville today, Blair at the wheel. The conversation turns (as it always does) to what he has to put up with, being married to me, and how I suspect people pity him on the sly. 

"Admit it," I said. "People are probably walking up to you going, 'You poor man. Here's a dollar. Why don't you buy yourself a coffee and at least get out of the house for a bit?'"

"Nah," Blair drawled in his North Carolina accent. "You forget we live in the Bible belt, sugah. What they usually say is, "We're praying the Lord calls one of you home, son, so you can be released from your pain." 

Almost threw up on myself, laughing. True story. 

Cheers,

Dena

Dishpan Hands

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Our dishwasher has been leaking sporadically for almost 6 months and finally gave up the ghost this last week, spewing suds out from underneath our kitchen cabinets. We ordered a new dishwasher from Home Depot which was to be delivered this past Thursday. Didn't happen. Received a call saying shipment was delayed and the dishwasher would be here this coming Tuesday.

This means we must--gasp!--wash dishes by hand until then. What's a princess to do? Eat out a lot, is my thought. But there's no escaping the early morning coffee mugs, plates for toast, cereal bowls, omelet pans, and this brief lack-of-dishwasher interlude has uncovered the fact that I use an alarming number of spoons. 

We used to wash dishes by hand when I was a kid so I'm no stranger to manual labor (snort), but having gone years and years without sticking my hands in sudsy water, it's no fun going back. 

Or at least, I think it wouldn't be. So far, Blair has beaten me to the sink and taken care of all dishwashing duties. He's handy that way. And wise. He'd rather wash dishes for 5 minutes then listen to me spend an hour gripping about stupid Home Depot, and stupid delivery people, and stupid dirty dishes piling up in the sink...

God help me if our washing machine or clothes dryer ever goes on the fritz. Scrubbing clothes by hand and hanging them out to dry? Sooooo not the life of a pampered princess. ;)

Now--go hug all your appliances and tell them, "Thank you." 

Cheers,

Dena