¡Marianísima!

It’s Monday morning. If that weren’t bad enough, the skies are so gray I fear the sun has abandoned us. But I know it hasn’t, know that today calls only for some non-caloric blues-busters.

Here are a few of my favorites:

• Calvin & Hobbes. Impossible to read more than a few pages without laughing out loud.
• Happy, some may say cheezy, music. Don’t judge me because I can’t resist singing along with Sammy Davis Jr. whenever I hear “The Candy Man.” (It may be on my iPod in case of emergency.)
• Dancing to said music. Yes, I dance around my house, and I’m that crazy woman rockin’ out in my car while I wait at stop lights. The dancing and music loving are inherited/learned traits. My parents bust out into song all the time, and there were many impromptu dances in our kitchen.
• Baby animals. Just thinking about zooborns.com floods me with endorphins. Looking at a baby echidna, how can you be sad? Seriously, this site makes me squeal with joy. I save it for when I really need a boost. It has never failed me. Derek also knows to email me articles about animals if I’m cranky. (Recent winner here.)
• Though not always possible, get-togethers are the best. Better still if they include age-defying silliness such as sock-skating hardwood floors or building pyramids.

Wow. Just writing this made the sun come out – both literally and figuratively. Time for a celebratory dance break!

Cast aside

2013 started with a surgical improvement. Once again, I am amazed by modern medicine. With three tiny incisions, my surgeon was able to insert a camera and tools into my knee to fix a torn meniscus that’s been nagging me for years. Within days, I was up and walking.

If only it were all so easy. Three scars and cut out my overeating tendencies? Sign me up! Three more to implant a habit of regular exercise? Yes! Just three more for a procrastinationectomy? Please!

Alas, there’s no magic trio of scars to trade for my flaws. Or is there? Hard work, diligence, patience – not literal scars, but they’ll certainly leave their marks. Just as my knee surgery wasn’t really magic (I need to do ~ 6 weeks of physical therapy), changing habits won’t happen while I sleep. That’s fine. I want to be awake and moving forward as steadily as this scarred vehicle will endure.

In addition to exercise, eating, and procrastination (quite a trinity), I’ m aiming to read better in 2013. For the past two years, I’ve kept a list of every book I’ve read. Seems like a natural item for a blog post, right? No. The preponderance of chick-lit vampire stories is a little embarrassing. This year, I want to read at least 30 books, and have my guilty pleasure reading better balanced with well-written, maybe even literary, books. If I want to be a better writer, I need to be a better reader.

So lucky 2013, welcome. Bring it on!

Thankfully, I’ve Got Flowers!

I’ve resolved to buy flowers more regularly, especially during the fall/winter when gray skies can leave me feeling gloomy. Today’s actually sunny, but I still decided to bring sunshine inside. I know some people argue that cut flowers are a waste a money, “because they just die.” I could not disagree more. Flowers are an inexpensive way to bring beauty into your home. (Beauty that I could not manage to adequately photograph, though I tried.)

And in the time it took to write this minuscule post, take pictures, and post them, the weather has returned to glum. Yay for yellow!

I’m giving up swearing for the month of October. I know, it’s not even Lent.

A former coworker named Michael once said, “Profanity is the refuge of the inarticulate.” He was referring to a ranting customer, but the quote has stuck with me through the ensuing thirteen years. I’m a writer, and I spend inordinate amounts of time trying to find just the right word or turn of phrase. Anyone who knows me knows I am a word nerd. I admire people who are well-spoken. I sometimes mock those who use “like” all the time. For example, “You know, it’s like we went like to the the store and it was like so crowded.” I had a boss who spoke this way, and it made her seem young and hesitant.

Could others react to my swearing the way I react to their likes? Does my frequent f-bomb dropping irritate people or make them tune me out? Can I stop? (To clarify, I do have a filter, thanks to many public-facing jobs. Nobody wants a teacher or fundraiser swearing at her audience.) October is an experiment to find out.

When do I fail in my experiment? While driving! I swear at crazy motorists around me, but with the windows up nobody hears (it’s just like a tree falling in the forest). I swear when I drop things, and I’m a klutz. But only once since I started have I sworn in conversation. I might start keeping score. Yesterday, -5. Today, zero.

My name’s not that hard — especially not when I spell it for you. Yet somehow, this is what was handed to me this afternoon. I guess I should be thankful they didn’t call it out.

"Moron! Large iced latte for Moron!"

Helping out parents usually means running errands, going shopping, or cleaning around the house, not grooming giraffes. But I’ve never claimed my family is normal. The  last time I went to their house, I noticed this:

It looked like a horror movie Swamp Monster, not like the stately giraffe my mom designed. Something had to be done, so I went to work, shearing the topiary of its excess ivy (which grows like a weed, in case you didn’t know). My mom was delighted until I accidentally trimmed part of his nose. “Relax, Mom, it’s ivy. He’ll have a nose again in no time.” I continued channeling my inner Edward Scissorhands, realizing that the beautiful topiary animals you see in parks and castle grounds are not so easy to keep perfectly lush. Gardeners are tending those meticulously.

I, on the other hand, did a hack job. Gerard once again looks like a giraffe, but a modern art giraffe out of a Picasso painting. Plus, he’s bald in a few spots. Then again, it’s ivy. He’ll be handsome and verdant in no time.

Where am I? ¿Dónde está Guernica?