New Year’s Thoughts, All Jumbled
Happy New Year, y’all. A little bit of caffeine makes me industrious but too much makes me nervous. Sometimes I forget that. Like a few hours ago, when I drank a big old iced coffee with tapioca while playing Uno with my kids at our favorite teahouse. After that, we went to the grocery store to stock up on year-end bargains, and I got all jittery. I kept telling my kids to keep their voices down. Twelve-year-old Josh told me, “Does caffeine make you hear better?” I said, “No. Why?” He said, “Because you keep telling us to keep our voices down and we’re just talking normal.” Doh.
I can’t remember if I do this every new year’s time, but I probably do… Today I cleaned out my closet and took a whole bunch of stuff to the thrift store. As I’ve said many times before, I hate to drive around with my kids at night, without another grown-up to help us out. To unknown places, I mean. Or potentially unsafe ones. So, there’s this one thrift store where I normally prefer to drop off my stuff, because a bunch of homeless or poor people hang out around it and take the stuff you leave. Personally, I’d rather leave stuff for people to take for free than give it to a thrift store that will charge more than truly needy people can afford. But I didn’t want to drive to that particular thrift store this evening, because it’s not well lit. So I drove to a more expensive one, instead, and just left our stuff outside the well lit back door. Maybe poor people will go by and pick it up. There’s some good clothing and shoes and stuff in those bags. It’s not nasty – just stuff that doesn’t fit us anymore.
So, anyway – all we hauled off was stuff from my closet and the kids’. I still want to do my vanity, the bookshelves, and the table in the living room that serves as our catch-all. And the entertainment center – I bet we have some old Barney VHSs or some crap in there that we no longer need. And the kids’ toy boxes, which I’ll have to do when they’re at their dad’s. Because they think they don’t need to clean those out. But they’re wrong. But I didn’t want to launch into a big drama with them about it.
Here are my New Year’s resolutions, right off the top of my head, in case anybody cares:
1. To lose ten pounds.
2. To continue the self-improvement streak I’ve been on all year. You’re doing a good job, Gwen. Keep that shit up!
3. To decrease stressful moments by asking myself, when I’m freaking out over something, if that something will matter five years from now. (This one mostly goes with my career issues.)
4. To try to quit hating.
5. In order to make #4 above easier – to reduce unnecessary time spent with people who get on my nerves.
6. To finish two books.
7. (Most importantly:) To make more effing money.
Okay. I could think up more, but seven is plenty for now, don’t you think?
Holiday recap: I keep meaning to tell y’all that my Christmas, my birthday, and my New Year’s Eve were all freaking awesome. In fact, the last two weeks solid have been two of the best weeks of my life, even though I was sick for part of them. I spent time with most of the people I love, and we did fun things. And I got some super awesome gifts, too, including a cute purse, gorgeous Relax Bear merchandise, a fabulous Kenneth Cole messenger bag to replace the funky Cherokee one I’d been dragging to my readings, a fascinating Moon Signs book, aromatic bath/body products, a classy leather notepad holder (that will hold a Relax Bear notepad, yay), Ghost World on DVD, an awesome Pyrex lunch box with tote, and not one but two beautiful sweaters/twinsets. And two pairs of really nice gloves – leather and suede. And sugar-free candy. So, I raked it in. I am loved, and I have the material things to prove it. Ha, ha. Just kidding.
But, seriously – I had more good times in the last few weeks than most people have all year, I bet. Thanks to everyone involved. I love y’all.
This week, I’m taking vacation so I can get some writing done. So, if you call me and I don’t answer the phone, that’ll be why.
I hope everyone reading this had a good holiday, too. Talk to y’all later, french-fried potaters. Happy new year, again.
