Ms. Hyde and this matter of chub

According to a new study, whose results were released recently, I may not be chubby because I can’t manage to exercise regularly. Nope I may be chubby simply because I have a virus.

Good news that!

So like my beloved New Beetle, Princess, I too am, “Round for a Reason.”

Perhaps I have been lack in the vacuuming department also due to a yet to be unidentified virus! All that dust and fur flying about it’s not unreasonable to think.

Can a laundry virus be far off? Surely not.

I have long suspected that there are any number of viruses and plagues lurking in the hampers of The Hubster and Boy Wonder. I am more than willing to donate some of their dirties in the name of science and better health.

Until the study is commissioned and completed I will be cutting the laundry days in half per week in an effort to save myself.

Mother’s Day hint~~~ start shopping for Haz-Mat suits now for best colour and size selection.

Other health related good news; I may be days away from finally becoming one of the thousand points of light and moving amoung the kinder and gentler folk of the planet.

And no, I didn’t vote for him even with the catchy, warm fuzzy spin and apparently it was lost on W as well.

It seems the only thing capable of kicking my ass on this planet might become a thing of the past. Or at the very least - have less of a strangle hold on me.

Hormones. The hairy scary ones that take over and possess me a couple days a month and the lesser ones that dominate me for 14 days and that leaves me with about a week and a half of normalcy but after you subtract 5 days spent apologising and doing damage control leaves me with 4-5 days of non-homicidal tendencies.

Times 12 equals 48-60 days a year that I can be trusted not to fly into a rage over something as harmless as a light bulb burning out or finding I forgot to pick up bread when I did the grocery shopping.

See, this is why I laugh when the OBGYN starts in with perimenopausal this and that when I mention my hormonal angst. I have been this way since I got my first period when I was nine.

By age thirteen I was looking forward to menopause and researching hysterectomies.

I’m not going to go into it right now but just take a moment and really dissect the word hysterectomy. Grrrrr.

12 years ago working with a homeopathic doc I had blood work done and it was determined that I have very low levels of progesterone. Which allows the surplus of estrogen to take over my sanity.

Back then I was given my only natural hope, which was a cream that was derived from Mexican Yams that had properties similar to progesterone.

Things have begun to escalate the last couple years because I have been on the pill and that builds more estrogen up in my system, further turning me into Ms. Hyde.

While I was at the chiropractor this past week we stumbled upon things and I don’t even remember what or why or how -- all I know is that he had an answer and I have some new hope.

Dr Rob’s mom is like me, hormonally challenged, and he’s been helping her get things balanced and thinks he can also help me.

Seems there have been new natural stuffs they have developed that I wasn’t aware of. Actual plant derived progesterone that is a near perfect match. He then went into how it’s really stable and something about sub-lingual this and blahdy whoohaaa that…………..

Sign me up!

I picked it up yesterday and I’ll keep you posted.

If it works they can stop worrying about the big east coast quake that’s supposed to be coming in our lifetime.

If not, buy stock in really good 85% Dark De Cacao----it’s the only thing that calms me.

OOOoooo, gotta run---a new edge needs to be put on the axe.

Send lawyers, guns and money

My mother has a way of never leaving me. Not that I want her to.

Bits and pieces of her find their way into my life when I least expect it but need it most. Even if I don’t know it yet or at the time, it always comes clear.

We have a new grocery store here in Keene. A Price Chopper. Those of you in NY know them well as they originated there. They have made their way into NH and my backyard. Within a mile and a half of it, literally.

The Boy Wonder applied and is working there knowing he can transfer to one of the 3 locations near where we are moving to in NY.

So of course I had to check it out.

Me and 25,842 other people during the first week it was open. You would think we didn’t have another two major grocery stores to choose from in town. Maybe they were running some great specials that I was blissfully unaware of as I shop only the outside walls of the store.

I start in the organic produce section and what’s not available there I get from the rest of the produce section. I then head into the natural foods section before hitting the natural and organic meats section. Pick up a couple things from diary and I’m done.

Today though I was a first time visitor at their deli counter thanks to The Boy Wonder. His dinner request was for hot sub sandwiches. Crusty baguette, bacon, fried Genoa salami, roast beef, capicola, roast turkey, red onion, hamburger pickles, tomatoes and Irish Swiss baked in the oven. I’m getting hungry again just writing about it.

That sandwich was slamming delicious!

So there I was at the deli counter and as they are slicing up the roast beef I start checking out the salami choices and there it is. The Tobin’s First Prize logo was screaming at me from inside the case on the liverwurst, bologna and salami.

Tobin’s First Prize products originated from the Tobin’s meat packing plant that was located on Exchange Street just off Exit 5 of Interstate 90 in Albany. It’s where my mother worked while we lived in Albany, until I was nine. They are now produced and distributed by John Morrell.

But they have kept the same logo and packaging on the products and when I saw them a smile followed by a slight wince emitted from me.

Funny how a big old slab of liverwurst brings my mother back to life but it does.

I don’t believe I ever stepped foot in the plant but I remember vividly what the parking lot and the big white building looked like and the logo on the tower that you could see from the interstate going north.

I also remember this one girlfriend she had from there that had red hair, smoked, dressed in bright prints and dated a gangster. I think her name was Denise?

A day when the two of them spent the whole afternoon painting the ceilings in the dining room and living room and enough time went by that a little blonde girl playing quietly on her own staying out the way was blessed with them being themselves and given a window into the lives of women without the usual boundaries by which they’re tied.

I’d like to think that day played a small but important part in what makes me the woman I am.

Then there was a story that has become infamous over the years for me.

A Christmas party prank gone horribly wrong which involved an air hose, some poor mans buttock and too much alcohol. You do the math.

The last couple days have been an ongoing dialogue with The Boy Wonder about where he’s going and how he is in control of what does and doesn’t happen for him. We’re coming to the end of the semester and he’s in full excuse mode and defense. (I'm the innocent bystander Somehow I got stuck , Between the rock and the hard place, And I'm down on my luck)

On my way to Price Chopper I had time to think as the guy in front of me forgot he was in his truck and was basically strolling to the plaza with his cigarette, reading his newspaper and darning a pair of socks.

I got to thinking about what I want for him in his life and it’s really quite simple and here is how the thought process went.

**Disclaimer~ those prone to motion sickness should take the necessary precautions or at the very least, remain seated and have a paper bag handy.**

As I was pulling out of the driveway the Santana/Steven Tyler song came on and it made me angry. It’s not the song. The song, Just Feel Better, is hauntingly lovely and what is it about Steven Tyler when he is doing the belting bits in any of his songs I uncontrollably sing along at the top of my voice.

Every time.

Hearing Mr Tyler sing is like smashing into a fresh bruise for me at the moment because it makes me think of J Frey and that makes me want to smash J Frey into a million little pieces if for no reason than there will be truth in the title of that book.

In that book J Frey goes on and on about a guest speaker who he refers to as an aging rock star who is clean and making a comeback and seems to go out of his way NOT to identify but sounded all the world to me that he was describing Mr Tyler.

J Frey goes on about how angry this speaker is making him, that this person is lying and no one could survive the amounts of drugs and alcohol they were saying they would ingest in a 24-hour period. And I am trying not to be upset as I love Mr Tyler but not in that---they have to pull me off his leg kinda way and then isn’t it ironic that we find out thanks to this article that J Frey himself is the liar.

How bloody hypocritical is he.

So yeah, I’m still bitter as J Frey became yet another person who chose to lie to me after I became emotionally invested in him.

Which got me to thinking about The Boy Wonder and how I want him to be his own best friend and know that he can do whatever it is he sets out to do. No one can stop him but himself.

Here I am, 45, finally investing enough in myself to pursue the one thing I always wanted to do---write. Send little bits of myself out into the world through my own distinct voice.

I’m not looking to win any prizes---won’t turn any down---not looking to be famous and not looking to be like anyone else, just me.

Apparently my voice is very different and not everyone wants to listen and I’m okay with that.

My humour class assignments have developed a pattern in what the teacher has to say and none of it is about a lack of humour, he tells me I’m very funny, it’s about the mechanics of my writing; switching tenses and POV----and that thing that’s gotten me pulled aside my whole schooling life.

“It seems like you didn’t follow the directive, but this is really good and I had to give you the A.”

A writing mentor recently told me that, “You’re humour and voice may be too intelligent for most average Americans to follow.”

I’m okay with that because I’m 45 now and not 12, 14, 18 and 21 when no one put it to me in that way so that I could see that I shouldn’t stop and this time I won’t.

I want The Boy Wonder to know he shouldn’t stop.

I wish my mother hadn’t died before she finally did the one thing that was inside her, but she didn’t and I’ll never know what it was. I don’t know that she did either.

And that’s when I pulled into the parking space at Price Chopper and two minutes later there was my Mother visiting me in the form of Tobin’s First Prize, Mother Goose Liverwurst.

She’s given me more advice in the years since her death than she ever did when she was alive.

I guess that’s because those boundaries that use to keep her tied, no longer apply.

Isn’t it ironic.

Things are not always as they appear to feel

I slept in today. I didn’t mean to I honestly made an attempt at actually getting up but somehow there I was at, 9:45 AM EST, having to forcefully drag myself out of bed.

Which is no fun at all. Just ask The Hubster.

It’s really strange though, I was asleep by 10:45 last night. And while I had a couple of disturbing dreams that I will NOT share here, I slept pretty good. Makes me wonder if I am suffering from SAD disorder.

The SAD website defines it as:

SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) is a type of winter depression that affects an estimated half a million people every winter between September and April, in particular during December, January and February.

Makes me feel better just to have something to maybe point a finger at.

But back to those dreams, I don’t normally remember my dreams.

During particularly stressful time periods I have a tendency to remember them but I am not having a particularly stressful time that I’m aware of.

That I am aware of.

I mean what’s the point of being stressed out if you can’t share it with people this stress of which we speak?

If I’m stressed I should be having unpredictable mood swings that level everything and everybody within a 5-mile radius. Of which I show no remorse because I’m stressed.

I should be eating truckloads of carbs trying to comfort and calm the stress.

I should have something or someone that I can firmly point a finger at and be blaming for all this stress until an appropriate amount of time has passed and I can pull myself up by my bootstraps—wherever they are, and save myself making all right in the world once again!

So I spit at you SAD disorder. What kind of a disorder are you that you can’t even muster more than a tendency to remember my dreams and a need to sleep 11 hours rather than seven?

Disorder indeed.

I’m off to make some mashed potatoes all this hoopla has me feeling a bit not quite myself and a wee tad sad.

12:46PM edit: I am always the last to know but this apparently the worst day of the year---who decides this stuff and how are they right?!

What's cooking? Everything!

I know I kept talking about the kitchen remodel and had yet to post a pic but that’s because it is, I am sure, a much bigger deal to me than it will be entertaining for you all.



That being said let’s get this over with and we can all move on already.

(I have to run to my doc appointment and will post pics later if photo bucket is being nicer than it is at the moment---grrr!) edit----YAY it's working!!!








There is still the finishing bits to be done but all the working areas are in place and, well, working and I am loving it.

I didn’t realize just how much I learned to work around all the problems of the old set-up.

I love to cook. Love, love, love it. I now enjoy it even more.

I now have clear and distinct stations. A bake station that’s a joy because my beloved Kitchen-Aid mixer now has a proper place and I no longer need to drag it out to use.



To the left of the fridge is the beverage center. The electric kettle lives there. A very practical appliance, which, is a staple in every household in the UK and a tea drinker’s must have. Holders for six bottles of wine run down the side of the cabinet.



Opposite the bevvie center is the snack and sandwich area.



One of the greatest things about the new set-up is the use of drawers instead of traditional cabinets and the open shelving that replaces the wall cabinets.

Could be messy and cluttered looking but it’s not and everything I need is only a quick reach away.

I also went from a double sink to a single deep one. Combined with the gooseneck faucet washing up is a breeze.

Unloading the dishwasher now happens in half the time as everything is stored very nearby.

The two big drawers to the right of the dishwasher, one holds all the plastic bins and the other holds all the lids. Makes for quick stashing of leftovers as this is directly opposite the fridge.

My main working area around the stove rocks! The hanging pot rack, genius! The cabinet to the right of the cooker has a double carousel rack and all those small appliances and roasting pans live in there. No longer do I have to crawl inside with a flashlight looking for my beer-can-chicken racks.



The best part is that I can be cooking up a storm and people can still come in and get something to drink or make a snack and one doesn’t affect the other.

So what’s cooking?

Yesterday; A roasted split turkey breast, mashed, gravy, stuffing and broccoli. A batch of my signature cookies, Mocha-choco caramel kisses and a batch of homemade vanilla ice cream.

Tonight it’s beef satay and prik pow fried rice.

I even made a batch of my signature Follain breads the other day. I hadn’t baked bread for months.

Cooking has always been therapy for me and now it’s a joy.

Best Laid Plans Made

I’ll admit I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time.

I’ve always thrived within a predictable structure.

Then along came Teri and I thought, “See, it is a good idea.”

And did nothing.

Then I signed up for an online Humour Writing Class over at Gotham Writers' Workshop and it really seemed like a good idea.

Hold on.

Did someone just ask, “Why a humour writing class?”

So you can all start giggling and tittering to yourselves while reading my blog of course.

Because apparently I can’t believe I write funny unless the person telling me is in a qualified position.

And I need to kick my fiction into gear.

And I’m paying him.

Back to business.

Even Pia’s given it some thought recently.

So now that I’ve added the commitment of a weekly gig at the Daily Irish News I’m finally going to do it.

I’m going to write in my blog twice a week.

There I’ve said it.

I feel better all ready.

No more will I feel guilty when go into Stat Counter and I see my loyal readers, (Yes, I have some. They don’t leave comments but they are fiercely loyal readers on both sides of the Atlantic. I love you guys!), have been checking in for new posts, sometimes a couple times a day.

The pressures off me and no more guess work for my readers.

Every Tuesday and Thursday there will be shiny new posts to my blog.

For those of you who can’t get enough you can sign up for the delivery of the Daily Irish News and read me every Friday there.

I may even pick a day to post my assignments from my class if my teacher doesn’t rip them apart too much.

Or not, if he seems to be telling me that I am indeed not funny at all but only have been playing the part of a humourous writer on my blog.

If that turns out to be the case I am in for a long and painful 10 weeks.

On the bright side, if that’s how it plays out I can turn my full energies to my mid-life crisis and let the belly baring, spandex, and stiletto heel wearing begin!

And yes, I’ll post pictures.

Because one way or another I will make you laugh.

Print the Fit That's News to All

I have had the pleasure of writing an article for The Daily Irish News.

Thanks TJ!

That's it's logo up there. I'll be writing more articles for them and if you want to be sure not to miss any future blonde blatherings I post there, you can subscribe to the publication by sending an e-mail to the following address:


This is the article that's in the DIN today.


NBC has a hit with; My Name is Earl, which debuted in the 2005 fall line-up and they recently showed their faith in it by moving it to the famed Thursday night line up. Famed yes, but hasn’t had any meat in it since the departure of such iconic shows as, Seinfeld and Friends.

It’s smart, quirky and funny. Much like myself.

The Earl website describes the show thusly:

Earl (Jason Lee, "Almost Famous," "Chasing Amy") has taken one too many wrong turns on the highway of life. However, a twist of fate turns his life into a tailspin of life-renewing events. Earl wins a small lottery, and, after an epiphany, he is determined to transform his good fortune into a life-changing event as he sets out to right all the wrongs from his past.
Before Earl can begin his journey, his inevitable attraction to misfortune surfaces once again. Seconds after winning the lottery, he is hit by a car and while unconscious; the winning lottery ticket blows away. While in the hospital, Earl watches "Last Call with Carson Daly" where Carson says that his success is a direct result of doing good things for other people. It is at that moment Earl discovers karma- and in hope of a better life, he sets out to correct every bad thing he's ever done starting with a grade school geek, Kenny (guest star, Gregg Binkley), who Earl used to pick on.

The Boy Wonder and I are loving the Crab Man and if you don’t know who I mean, watch the show.

Karma hasn’t received this much airtime in ages. Unless of course, you are The Dali Lama and company or Richard Gere.

My G4’s handy little dictionary widget thingy defines karma as:


Or at least it did after it politely informed me that my spelling of, k h a r m a, was quaint but erroneous.

I’ve long been a fan and believer in karma although I don’t always remember to keep the karma ball in play.

You see karma, is very much like a woman. If you want to be able to get what you want when you want it, you need to be paying it/her some attention or you just might get what you need. A not so pleasant wake-up call, which can be subtle or slamming, depending on how long you’ve been ignoring it/her.

But if you truly are remorseful and get your attention focused on it/her again you will be rewarded.

Back in 2001 I was a struggling single mom and never seemed to have enough time, money or peace. I was constantly pushing forward in order to stay one step ahead of the bills and keep my son healthy and happy.

I was operating in a state of total fear. Fear of everything that could happen to us and all that was stable and good was becoming completely lost on me.

The, not yet, Hubster made the move from London to the US in June and we were married August 11th. Do to IRS rules he could not yet legally work in the states so I was still supporting the household. So even though life was taking real positive turns I was still so bogged down by the fear factor and missing the big picture.

Until our one-month anniversary, September 11th, the day that forever changed everything for everyone everywhere.

My fear factor shifted from my own little corner of the world to the world in general and what small bit of control I thought I had over my life was shattered.

Which turned out to be a good thing. Nothing like the world as you know it collapsing to put things into perspective.

A couple days after 9/11 the local radio station was doing a remote outside of Dunkin Donuts------

Hold on.

Why is Dunkin Donuts trying to take over the world?

In my little NH town and the surrounding 3 miles just beyond I have 5 locations to choose from. Two of those are less than ½ a mile apart.

Just curious.

So I divert to Dunkin Donuts while heading to work that morning and empty my wallet into their jar. It amounted to less than $50, but for someone who was wondering how to pay the mortgage that month after killing her savings account for a VERY modest wedding the month before, it might as well been $5,000.

The DJ’s made a big deal over me as I emptied my wallet all the while I am feeling bad that I don’t have more to give.

Driving to work after that I felt so content. It was odd because every penny counted but it no longer seemed to matter to me. Doing that small gesture had become more important.

I knew that if I lost the house that I would still have The Boy Wonder and The Hubster and that was all I really needed.

During the next two weeks I received a promotion with an increase in pay and was included in my departments bonus allocation program for the first time.

Sometimes you have to actually do a karma circle dance with yourself.

When The Hubster could legally pursue work here he found little in his field, production sound, in New England. In the space of 3 years; one independent movie and local, on location, day gigs for A&E, Discovery, History Channel and a failed David E Kelley show.

Brotherhood of Poland--- anyone?

During this time, The Boy Wonder found his home life so safe and secure that he finally let his suppressed anger towards his father out and began to self-destruct. He needed stability and someone at home. I left my job and the 37,000 we counted on to pay bills.

Surely there would be more films shot in New England. There was, all head of depts. were flown in from LA or NY because of old under-handed crap that happened with the Boston local in the 70’s/80’s that we were cleverly not made aware of when Hubster joined.

The Hubster was reduced to pushing boxes and building stages for an insulting wage to barely get the bills paid. He refused to let me go back to work. Nothing was more important than getting The Boy Wonder back on steady ground.

Occasionally he would do a gig for a music production company over the border in Massachusetts. The money was slightly less insulting, and he enjoyed being behind a mixer at live performances again but the gigs were far and few between.

December of 2003 that company needed a management position filled. Hubster had been out of the music business and into film/TV for the 10 years and his own boss but the stability of a weekly paycheck and health benefits was very tempting.

The picture they painted at the two interviews and the offer they made him were thousands of dollars apart and not in our direction but he was still determined that the stability would be for the best.

I hated that he was willing to settle and compromise everything he had worked the last 15 years building his reputation in a business he loved. Even if it was for all the right reasons.

While I was hacking out the taxes for the previous year I discovered something and ran to tell him.

His gross income for the past year came to just slightly more than the yearly salary they were offering him and he had only actually worked 34 weeks as opposed to the 50 he would have to for them.

The owner of that company was shocked when Hubster called him to say he couldn’t take the position and explained why.

We knew we might be facing the same struggle in the year ahead but our still new family would have the bonus of all that extra time together through it.

Within 3 months he was offered a chance to work on American Chopper as the sound supervisor for a contracted 3 months.

That was 20 months ago and it looks like the boys will be doing at least one more season for Discovery.

While it means that Hubster works and lives in NY six days a week and The Boy Wonder and I live in NH even that is sorting itself out and you read about that here.

Even the smallest karmic gestures circle back on you and my most recent is what inspired this piece.

I belong to a website community for people like me who are obsessed with their cars.

They have this feature on the boards where you can add to a member’s reputation. It’s a point system where you receive points if they give you positive rep and take away points if they give you negative rep. It happens privately between you and them and not on the public boards.

I’m really not sure what the whole reputation thing is supposed to do for us but I play along.

Last week I received negative feedback from someone on the site because he didn’t care for the way I wouldn’t rise to an argument he had tried to establish with me on a past thread.

My first instinct was to react and call him out publicly on the boards and vindicate myself.

For some reason, good place in my hormonic cycle perhaps; I instead gave him positive feedback with the comment that I preferred to spread good karma regardless.

Within 24 hours I received enough positive reputation from other members to make up for the points his subtracted three times over.

All karma, big or small, inward or outward circles right on back to you.

You all might consider giving karma some well-deserved attention today.

After all, if karma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.

Just ask Earl.

Sibling Simplex

The Boy Wonder is an only child.

When the decision not to have any more children became public knowledge I was amazed at what people thought they had a right to say.

Out loud.

To my face.

“How can you do that to him? You have an obligation to give him siblings so he has someone to relate to. No one understands you like a brother or sister. He needs someone who will still be family after you’ve died.”

Obligation?

To give him siblings?

Funnily enough I thought my obligation was to love, protect, feed, clothe and teach him how to be a good person in this crazy world.

And I told this person so.

Funnily enough this person went on to engage in a years long affair with one of his oldest daughter’s friends and eventually his entire family disintegrated from the fall out and he and the now young woman basically have only each other.

So no, the man who spouted his opinion at me was not Dr Spock and I’m sure his three girls are comforted by the fact that they share the common bond of that past and think of the therapy discounts they are entitled to.

The Boy Wonder went on to acquire 3 step sisters who aren’t legally his step sisters but there is no known term for the offspring that a father’s live-in partner has and that got confusing just typing it.

So now he has the best of both worlds or at least a firm appreciation of growing up the first 11 years as an only child.

Do I have any regrets?

I would’ve liked to raise a daughter and instill in her everything that was not instilled in me as a girl.

Like self-confidence, self-worth and a belief that I was important and should be treated with respect. To have been taught that there is nothing that a little girl can’t do simply because she is a girl.

A little girl should know that school is important and that there is more to life after high school than going to college where, “ Maybe you’ll meet a nice boy and get married.”

I was at a mall in Connecticut a few years back with my brother John’s third wife on a Sunday.

I noticed how many mother/daughter pairs there were sharing the day.

The young girls ranged from like 6 years old and up.

I felt a longing for something I didn’t know I missed.

Of course if I had more babies there would not have been any guarantee that I would’ve had any daughters and not more sons and that’s the practicalities of that.

I have tried to instill in my son a sense that he has an obligation to treat girls with respect and that they are capable of anything he is if they have a mind to do it.

Seems to be holding so far. I have seen how he treats his girlfriends and he is destined to have his heart trounced for quite a few years.

Teenage girls are all about the drama and nice boys don’t hold their interest for more than a week. If a boy isn’t making them cry every other day he’s just not good enough.

While I missed out on sharing things with a daughter there are things that The Boy Wonder and I have shared that I never could’ve with a daughter.

Like how our testosterone levels rose and we started sprouting wiry little hairs on our chins at the same time.

Good times.

Oh yeah.

Good. Times.

Mother's little helper...wish you were here......

Yay!

The guys are here installing the Corian counter with integrated sink.






It’s the only bit of the kitchen remodel we are not doing ourselves.

I am trying hard to not think about the fact that they are going at the tops of the cabinets with a jigsaw at the moment but this is impossible as it is all I can hear and they don’t look like they’d enjoy it if I turned the Gorillaz up any louder.






Look more like Big & Rich kind of guys.






Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

I have lots of pics I’ve been taking through this entire process and an entry I’m working on about it as well.

Nothing like a major home renovation project to bring underlying issues up to the surface.

Ha. Bloody. Ha.

So I’m going to go and refill my water glass and pop a Valium.

See you on the Dark Side of the Moon.

Horton hears a pixel ping

I know. It’s been the talk of the entire blogosphere thingy.

Where’s Angel and when will she be back????

Okay. Maybe not the entire blogosphere thingy.

Just a small corner.

A minute, tiny little spec--------

All right! A bloody pixels worth.

But hey, a pixel is a pixel no matter how small and should not be ignored.

This is for you pixel!

New Years. Something needs to be done.

Is there a holiday that matches it in all its anti-climatic glory?

If you’re single you had better have a date. It’s like the junior prom all over again.

It doesn’t matter who the date is just have one.

You and said date get overly dressed and have an overly priced dinner out with all the other bazillion people out having their overly priced dinners with their questionable dates and being seen doing it so as not to be the topic of the bazillions and their hangover conversations on January 1st.

Because nobody makes a resolution not to gossip, that would be impossibly unrealistic.

Let’s stick with the resolutions that we all know we can keep.

• Go on a diet
• Go to the gym
• Get out of debt

We know we can do them because we do them every year.

For a day and a half and then we get over it. Or at least bury them in excuses and rationalizations.

It’s okay though because nobody gives you a hard time about it. They’re all too busy breaking--- ermmmm, rationalizing their own.

Last year I wanted to get back my faith.

In people, life, but mostly myself.

I even bought a silver ring inscribed with the word, which was way more chic than tying the tired string around my finger.

Of course I could’ve made it a red string and told everyone I had started my own offshoot sect of the Kabbalah and sent the entire throng of celebrities who aren’t actual Kabbalah followers but just play one on the red carpet into a tail-spin trying to find a local chapter of the new, finger-wrapped, sect.

Okay. Sidetrack with me for just a sec.

Do you know what the red string is for?

“The Red String protects us from the influences of the Evil Eye. Evil Eye is a very powerful negative force. It refers to the unfriendly stare and unkind glances we sometimes get from people around us. According to Kabbalah, the critical need to confront the problem of negative influences cannot be underestimated.”

Uh huh.

Stay with me.

When my son was 2 he started waking up in the middle of the night screaming about spiders in his room.

After a few days and no signs that it would end soon I needed to come up with something to stop the madness.

At bedtime the last thing I would do was spray his room to kill the spiders.

No, of course I was not really filling my son’s room with insecticide every night for 3 months, I was spraying an all-natural citrus oil spray.

His room smelled great and we all got a good night’s sleep again.

All I’m saying is he was 2.

So everyone out there who thinks that you are causing Madonna and company great grievous harm with your dirty looks-----jokes on you.

This year I’m going to start being gentler with myself.

I am harder on myself than anyone. I’m the only one who I continue to allow to drag me down and beat with a stick.

I don’t need no stinking string to protect me from other people’s negativity---just my own.

I don’t think I can fit that inscription on a ring.

Am I too old to be seen in public with my blankie?

Happy New Year!