Resolution #49: Fresh Face Forward

Seventh grade. It was a big year. It’s the beginning of junior high, you’re almost a teenager, and your parents begin walking around on pins and needles wondering when the bad years are gonna start. You know, the 1-2 year period where you know everything and they are dumb. And embarrassing. Usually about eighth grade. But before that kicks in, it’s all sunshine and pop rocks and OMG I FINALLY GET TO WEAR MAKE-UP!

Right before school started that year, mom took us to Merle Norman to learn how to put make-up on. She was not gonna have two little tranny looking twelve year olds traipsing the halls of Walcott Jr. High. We went in, learned how to put it on so it didn’t look like it was applied with a trowel and got to buy some powder, blush, simple eye makeup and a lip gloss. Now, that doesn’t mean we didn’t get into any neon slime green eye shadow or electric pink blush, but all in all, we were a classy couple of junior highers. And I think we’ve both held up our end of the bargain to this day. Sure some crazy-ass fake lashes and glittery purple shadows come out every now and then, but I don’t think either of us has been called a hot mess lately. We use it to enhance, cover and maybe hide a little. And the hiding part is what we’re dealing with this week.

Our Resolution: No makeup. None. Fresh clean skin only. We each get one day of normal facewear, but that’s it!

I’ll go ahead and post my first pic with this here intro, as my appearance has taken a drastic downturn since I took it. I got up this morning and felt a little weird. Minus the makeup, I got ready in about half the amount of time as usual. Hooray! Maybe there is at least a little bit of an upside here. I got in my car, drove two blocks and suddenly felt like I may be revisiting last night’s dinner. So I took a four hour nap. Not pretty.

Does this scarf make me look less pale?

Wow. Perhaps my body was rejecting the fact that I was gonna go out in public with my eyebags showing and that’s why I’m not feeling well.

This week’s gonna be tough.

c.

Holy Stuff!

As recently mentioned, we’re completely wigged out that this year is almost over!  What will we do next? How will we stay in touch with you all? How will we know we’re funny from now on? So many questions.

But here’s one for you: What should we do next week?

We have exactly THREE resolutions left.  We have three ideas, but because of our mild inferiority complex…we think you might have a better idea than one of the three.

If there’s anything you’ve been jonesin’ to see us do, please send it to fifty2resolutions@gmail.com or get the dialogue started right here in our comments section.

No donation is required, but you would be best human being in all the world if you did.  As you may have noticed, you can no longer donate on line here. C. and I have created a 52R paypal account so we can just send donations over directly.

Speaking of our paypal account, we’d love to send over a big check at the end of our project.  We’ve never really wanted recognition for the money donated, but this project would feel like a true personal success if we could raise a good amount of money and send it over from Fifty2 Resolutions in Shelly’s name.

b.

PS. We’ll eventually have a “donate” button on our sidebar, I just have to figure out the whole widget thing.  If you want to donate NOW, just go to paypal, click “send money” and put in our email address: fifty2resolutions@gmail.com . Thanks in advance!

Alcohaulin’ what?

Yes, that title makes no sense at all. More on that later.

So my thing about doing the opposite of shoveling yesterday…didn’t work out so well. It was awful. I am currently typing with my nose and a carrot I’m holding in my ear as my arms are currently soaking in a warm bath.

Since the opposite of shoveling didn’t pan out, I did breakfast for dinner. I heart breakfast food and have recently rediscovered the magic that is my wafflemaker. Waffles are amazing. How did I forget this? I’m pretty sure this little contraption was used approximately two times after we got it as a wedding gift and has been sitting lonely, in the least accessable cabinet in the kitchen, hangin’ with the deviled egg carriers. It has been rescued.

This morning I decided to (gasp!) listen to the radio! Wow, this was a sacrifice. I took the e1-mobile to work again. He’s an Ipod addict as well, but in the event he forgets it, he tunes in to the local hard rock/metal station. That’s where the dial was tuned when I started the car. Sweet baby jesus the music was horrible! But I’ll start with the morning crew. They’re called “The Morning Moose.” I don’t know why. During a commercial various listeners tell me the Moose crew is wild and cuhraaaazy! I hear no evidence of this. The morning show ends and Skid Row kicks in. Really? “I Remember You.” If you remember this song, there is a line “love letters in the sand.” What does that mean? I figured my eighth grade mind had remembered that incorrectly. Nope. I googled it. It really says that. Next up a Led Zeppelin song. Followed by Ozzy, then Aerosmith. This is when I start getting a little suspicious. Why aren’t they playing any new tunes?

Because they are appallingly awful, that’s why. This is the part where I hear the worst song I’ve ever heard in my life. So far. Today. I could have written this song. Actually, if you took this blog and  bought me an AutoTune plugin I coulda made a better song. There was a line that went, “I’m like a vampire at night.” What. Does. That. Mean? You’re thirsty? Emo? Sparkly? Broodily staring at a conflicted teenager? About to duke it out with inexplicably shirtless buff kids? (I don’t understand Twilight and I refuse to try.) Another sample, “take yourself to all your places.” Um, what places? This song could not be more vague. It actually makes me a little angry.

Moving on, I too brought my lunch in today. And by doing that I broke two habits…packed a  lunch, and ate healthy. Like all the way. Salad and an apple. No chips, no cream heavy soup, no cheese. A bizarro lunch. Not fun.

For the drive home I decided to try the radio again. It’s like they know the new hard rock music sucks. I mean, it’s not my genre or anything, but I can appreciate good music regardless. They played a bunch of old stuff, Zep, Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains. I started getting a little nostalgic for college. Those sexy, baggy corduroy overalls and two sizes too big flannels would be great on a day like today. And then. Then it happened. The most ridiculous song ever written in the history of the world. “Alcohaulin’ Ass” by (get this) Hell Yeah. Are you kidding me? ALCOHAULIN’ ASS BY HELL YEAH! Who are these people? And who likes this music? I’d had enough and switched back to some of my new non-routine podcasts. I finished up with Harry Houdini. There’s a Houdini Museum in Appleton, Wisconsin and I totally want to go. (Kardels, have you be there?)

My last dilemma for the evening was my candy situation. Sweet Tarts with the Thursday night shows. This is my thing. It’s small, but it makes me happy. And of course, I completely forgot to plan ahead and stock up on Fun Dip or Swedish Fish. So why not go salty instead of sweet? e1 popped us up some corn. He’s a little obsessed. Has fancy oils and seasonings and stuff. It was good, but it was no tasty blue Sweet Tart.

c.

Walking in a Winter Brrrrrrr-Land

Hello.

Here are some things I changed up today:

straight hair instead of wavy – no big deal.

flax seed treats for breakfast instead of cereal – easy.

packed my lunch instead of going out – hooray, a money saver!

traveled to work on foot – Holy shizz, what was I thinking?!

Let’s talk about that last one.  My fingers have just now thawed so I’m ready to emote. It’s nine degrees today. NINE DEGREES!  This weather is not suitable for much, especially a leisurely walk to the office. I, however, was feeling brave this morning.  And unfortunately, in this case “brave” does not mean “drunk” as it sometimes does.

After a pretty pleasant morning (see: flaxseed and lunchpacking), it was time to suit up.  I decided to wear my warmest version of everything.  Unfortunately none of these things match.  I tromped out of the house wearing bright yellow boots, red mittens, a poop brown coat, pink/purple/green scarf, orange hat.  I looked like a paper doll for the colorblind.

The first couple steps were the most brutal.  It’s not just cold, it’s that frigid-air-literally- gags -you-when-you-step-outside cold. I immediately headed toward the sunny side of the sidewalk, which was really just a brighter version of the wicked cold side I had just escaped.

“When was the last time I felt this motherf#$@ing cold?” I thought to myself. The answer made me tear up.  I’m not entirely sure if they were cold tears or emotional ones, but I’m leaning toward the latter.  It was this.  That was one of my favorite days of the blog…and it was so long ago.  We’ve been through so much and now it’s almost over!  The reason this one meant a lot to me is that it brought an overpowering light to the situation.  Instead of being bitter cold, I was joyfully cold, a feeling I didn’t even know was possible.

Then, once again, something unexplainable happened. My ipod Shuffle decided to play “Don’t watch me dancing” by Little Joy.  Within that song are these lyrics:

In conversation she’d often contend

Costumes build customs that involve dead ends

If she found her courage in a change of scene

This Sunday’s social would be short its queen

All her best years spent distracted

By these tired reenactments

With the right step she’ll try her chances

Somewhere else

To hear these lyrics in the most beautiful sleepy voice on the planet, click below.

Obviously, I was in a certain mindset when analyzing the lyrics, but this song definitely feels like it speaks to changing up life’s routine a bit.  Thank you Shuffle, thank you.

I shivered, and pushed on.  Further down the road, I witnessed yet another thing that made me reminisce.  A teenaged girl came running out of some sort of school building.  She was loud, so I instinctually rolled my eyes (I did this on the inside as she looked like she could beat me up with her pointer finger).  But then, she reached down, BARE-HANDED, and picked up a pile of snow.

“Holy eff! You are the craziest most crazy person I’ve ever seen!” is all I could think.  But then I saw “the boy”. She was flirting.  Oh, to be young again.  Instead of trying to impress bosses and clients and people who don’t matter, we were just trying to get the boy with the rat tail or the little girl with the rainbow barrettes to notice us.  So innocent, so much smarter than the crap we put ourselves through now for people who don’t even give us moths, let alone butterflies.

As you can tell, this walk had become quite pleasant and introspective…other than the stinging cold on my face.  I was in my own world, my thoughts, my music. And suddenly, there was a body next to me. I should mention that I have absolutely no peripheral vision when it comes to the particular hat I wore today. So this person was practically taking a piggyback ride on me before I even noticed. Once again, cold makes friends.  It was a girl about my age (which means anywhere between 22 and 40), also bundled up with ridiculous layers of ugly, mismatched warmth.  We smiled, then she walked on.  Sure, it was just a smile but to me it said, “Yeah, can you believe we’re actually walking in this shizz? We are badasses. Plus, we’re pretty.”

I finally reached my destination feeling refreshed.  Sometimes I forget that when you don’t rush through life, things happen. And things are good…most of the time.

b.

Snowpocolypse

My regular routine has definitely taken a hit over the last two days, and this is why:

Yesterday started with me taking the e1-mobile to work. I hate driving big vehicles. It’s scary. I feel like I’m driving a hummer amongst an army of Mini Coopers. But it has 4wd, so it was deemed necessary.

Lunch came around, and one of the perks of working in post production is that you get to order lunch in every now and then. We were all super busy, plus I was rushing around like a crazy person trying to get stuff wrapped up so I could get the sled dogs fed before having them pull me home. Jimmy John’s had been chosen. At Jimmy John’s I have a favorite and a backup. I ordere neither. I switched it up and got one of the super fatty italian meaty sandwiches. Even though I didn’t get the usual, you really can’t go wrong at Jimmy John’s.

The next couple changes in routine were a roller coaster. First, I left the office around 2:15. Hooray! On the way home, I drove like a blue hair, which is mos def not me. I’m  kind of a speed demon. I hate being in the car and am somewhat legendary for my fairly consistent ability to always drive at least 80 mph. I get that from my mom. Even though she denies it.

Next, I mixed up my in-car podcast playlist. I only listen to podcasts in the car. I hate radio. Crappy music, crappy djs. Hate. Clearly, making myself listen to the radio will be another way to switch up my in-car audio situation. For yesterday, however, the change was in the podcasts that were listened to. Every week I listen to the same podcasts in the car and I listen to them in the same order: Live Free or Blow Hard, The Bugle w/ Jon Oliver & Andy Saltzmann, Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, This American Life, The Moth & Fresh Air. Always in that order. So yes, I am super nerdy AND super anal. I also have a list of in-office podcasts I listen to, also in a particular order: The Hater, The A/V club movie review, and NPR’s All Songs Considered. Anywho, I tracked down a couple new podcasts, one being from the Stuff You Should Know folks. I went with the one about history…stuff you should have learned or did and forgot or whatever. This kind of learny stuff always makes me feel smart and happy. My nerdy little heart was in love. I learned all kindsa stuff about Harry Houdini and Ameila Earhart.

And now the roller coaster plunges. Plunges down it’s steepest drop. Tuesday night’s workout? Shoveling. e1 was still toiling away at his jobby job, and had a meeting he had to attend later in the evening. So I figured I’d get a jump on clearing the driveway. That was a bad, bad idea. I shoveled for about an hour. Until my right arm fell off and died. I went back inside, used my mini hot glue gun to re-attach my arm and looked out the window to see that only ten minutes later, there was no evidence whatsoever that I had shoveled at all. Awesome.

Today = SNOW DAY! Unexpected/unplanned days off are the best! On a usual weekend, I get up and get started doing stuff. Today I stayed in bed late, catching up on four months of Vanity Fair back issues. Now, while I type, I’m drinking coffee with Baileys. As much as I wish that was an everday thing, sadly, it is not. Also, I baked. I never bake. I made muffins. From the box, but still.

So, since I shoveled yesterday…to uphold this resolution, would it mean I don’t have to shovel today? Please say yes.

c.

My ass’ll be sorry.

for real.

also, I’ve never written the term “ass’ll”. I feel exceptionally brilliant right now. Perhaps that’s what happens when one forgoes the morning joe.

So the reason for bringing this fabulous term into my vernacular is this, I opted for a “floating” machine at the gym instead of my usual eliptical.  This was a very tough decision.  I’ve been busy with work lately so instead of my gym rat status, I’ve been more of a gym mouse…wait, make that a gym hamster.  Gym boxelder bug? Regardless, I haven’t been there much.  So I finally have an open night and know that I must ignore my normal routine of 45 on the eliptical.  There are other cardio machines I’ve been curious about, but you all know how that goes.  You don’t wanna be the person trying something new in front of sweaty aggressive people in tight clothes. You press one wrong button and you’re hurled onto somebody’s overworked quads.  In my head, I’d walk confidently over to that huge awkward stair machine and start climbing. However, the mega-crowded elipticals were placed directly behind said machines…so I shimmied onto the next awkward looking contraption.  It looked a lot like an eliptical but instead of moving like gazelles, people were moving like gazelles shot by a tranquilizer.

“This is definitely going to cramp my style,” I thought as I hoisted myself up.

Um, three minutes later, I was dying. I felt like the chubby kid during the Presidential Fitness Test. (Side note: thinking about the fitness test makes me think about people farting during the curl ups. It never failed. It also never fails to make me laugh.) So what looked challengeless turned out to be an asskicker.  It was this weird speedskating motion that reminded me my butt has muscles inside.  I survived 10 minutes, then moved on to another non-habit…the dumb bike.  I biked while scrabbling on my iphone for 10 minutes, nice way to get cardio and improve my geeky gaming skills.  Not bad.

For the last 25 minutes, I couldn’t ignore my precious eliptical.  But instead of jamming to my rad playlists full of things like “Jessie’s Girl” and “Too Legit to Quit” or Pandora-ing Lady Gaga, I podcasted.  This is HUGE for me.  I’ve never understood how people can listen to talking without a live person present.  The minute a deejay starts barking, I change channels.  Conference calls are my biggest enemy.  The Streets even toe the line of what I can listen to while marching in place…surrounded by others marching in place. However, The Hater cured me. I saw the error of my ways. Amelie kept me entertained the entire 25 minutes…only 46 times did I check how much longer I had to go vs. my usual 362.

So other than being jitterless this morning, stepping outside my breeness was a success.  The gym wasn’t half as painful, though I have a feeling my arse won’t be in agreement tomorrow morning.

b.

Will she last?

Late Breaking News: Bree has just swapped morning coffee for morning tea.

She tells us she’s feeling draggy and is missing the jitters she keeps near and dear to her heart.

The question is…how long will she last before she finds herself horizontal?

um, this was written by her.

b.

Today was like an open book test.

Huh? Well, it was a challenge, but most of the answers were given to me by others.

Today was all about bizness. This means 7 hours of my day were spent in someone else’s car. But even before that could happen, the most sacred habit of all was broken…I had to get out of bed at a highly offensive hour. This one big broken habit then gave birth to lots of other little broken habits. You see, usually e2 is up and out the door before I’m even halfway conscious. Not today. Instead, I tip-toed around the bedroom in the dark like a talentless burglar. Even worse, I couldn’t listen to my morning tunes in the shower. It was a brutal morning.

The next broken habit was 100% out of my control. I always take the highway out of town because I barely know north from south. I follow google maps like a robot. If it told me to punch kittens, I would. There is no improvising. However, I wasn’t the driver and traffic was horrendous. After a few twists and turns, I was rewarded with something glorious. Sequins! If we hadn’t gone off course, I would not have found the shirt I’ll be wearing to my 65th wedding anniversary, in 64 years. Who knew such treasures exist off the beaten path?

After a day of meetings and a lot more driving, it was time for supper. Eggs. Breakfast for dinner. Definitely not the norm. And it’s a good thing, too. It has come to my attention that breakfast cuisine makes my belly think it will be fed again in another two hours. Which in this case, meant cheeseball. In the unfortunate event that you haven’t had my cheeseball, it’s a healthy mix of: Velveeta, cream cheese, port wine cheese, sharp cheddar, tobasco, worchestershire, onions, garlic salt, chili powder and walnuts. In other words, not something I should be cavorting with right before bed.

Then there’s the issue of bed time. E2 and I usually don’t even retire to the budoir until midnight, at the earliest. However, tonight I’m going into early retirement. We’ll see if I can get my mind to oblige.

b.

Change is…okay

Yes, creature of habit. I am one of those. I guess I don’t know for sure how much, you’ll have to let me know. I’m what some may call…particular. I have my “things.” My things that must be a certain way. The glasses in my cupboards. All in straight lines. All equidistant from one another. Every Thursday, I eat Sweet Tarts while watching the NBC lineup. I pour some out of the box and eat them in the following order: orange, purple, green, pink, blue. I don’t find this at all strange. The orange are yucky. The blue are the best. It makes sense to end on the one you like best.

Those may be some of my more extreme eccentricities. I’ll try to remember to share more as the week progresses. I thought about changing up my lunch routine, but I had a date with Hannah. And we like day margaritas so Mi Mexico it was. I considered ordering something different for lunch, but the quesadilla is too delicious. There’s a reason certain things become part of your routine. Tequila and melty cheese are two of those things.

I decided to mix it up this evening. I took a different route home. Nothing crazy, but there are a few great sites. By taking the 14th St. exit off of I-80 as opposed to the 2nd Ave. exit, I got to see Bonanza. Do you remember Bonanza? Little b. and c. loved Bonanza. Giant buffet…and most importantly, desert bar. Are you kidding me? What’s not to love? Grubby little kids running around with ice cream all over their faces. I think the true loss of innocence in one’s life is the sad realization everyone must eventually make. Buffets are really pretty gross. If only I could go back to the days of not caring if other people breathed all over my food.

I also passed Outer Limits, which has to be the sleaziest looking place on earth. Various neon signs advertising dancing ladies cover the teeny tiny windows. Not far down the road is the Palace Motel. The kind of place that looks like it rents by the hour. If not shorter. Ew. I don’t even want to think about the close proximity of these two businesses.

Next stop is the gym. This in and of itself is quite a departure these days. I haven’t been there in about a month. Clearly I’m super dedicated to physical fitness. Mr. Johns would be disappointed. I usually do a half hour on the elliptical, and if I’m in the middle of a good article when that time is up, I’ll do some walking on the treadmill. Today I decided to get going on the Couch Potato to 5k program. Again. I got a couple weeks in once before. Time to start up again.

Also on tonight’s agenda, grocery shopping. Which I was pretty bummed out about. 1.) because I hate grocery shopping. B.) Death storm 2009 is on its way, meaning every yahoo in town is out stocking up on sugar or flour or cous cous or cans of frosting or whatever. I really hate the hysteria that takes over whenever a storm is upon us. I refuse to participate, but this time, I am forced to. e1 and I are never home these days. There is zero food in our house. I decided to head to a store I don’t usually go to. Fareway. It’s an interesting place. Kind of bare bones. However, on the front window, I was thrilled to see a sign proclaiming that not only do ’smoked ham balls’ exist, Fareway was in possession of some. I passed. I did let the nice high school boy wheel my groceries out to the car and load them in the trunk. This is what they do. Whether you want them to or not. Sometimes it’s a little awkward, but this kids was nice and talkative, which is good. Keeps me from attempting uncomfortable conversation.

About once a week or so, e1 will be gone in the evening. Whether it’s poker night or a riveting Planning & Zoning meeting, I kinda look forward to my usual home alone dinners. That’s when I eat the stuff he doesn’t really like. Wheat pasta with pesto and portobello mushrooms, Pad Thai with tofu two stars from Thai Flavors or a four cheese Totino’s Party Pizza. Yes, I’m a grown woman who still loves Totino’s. They’re, like 17 for $2.00. DON’T JUDGE! Instead I made a big salad and had my first bowl of tomato soup for the season. Warm winter goodness.

So there. I changed things up a little bit. Maybe tomorrow when I unload the dishwasher I’ll put the glasses back into the cupboard all willy nilly.

This will probably not happen.

c.

Resolution #48: Don’t be yourself.

Like most people I know, c. and I are creatures of habit. Breakfast foods, work routes, gym routines, gnome pajama pants…all the same practically every day. There’s a comfort in always doing the same thing; you know how it’s going to end. I’ve learned the hard way to fear change. There’s nothing worse than stepping outside the “Beach Club” at Jimmy John’s and hating the results. So much regret.

On the other hand, they say variety is the spice of life. I’m not sure who “they” are, but we’re out to prove them right…or wrong. Hold on to your hats (but not your “usual” hat), things might get crazy.

Our resolution:
Kick the habit. All of them. Try new things, go new places, put the Beach Club down.

b.

PS. Next week will be our last EVER audience suggestion week. Start thinking…