Eatin' Pants

A New Year!  Ahhhhhh, I love that New Year feeling. And that New Year smell. Yum. Unless you drank too much, then perhaps some Lysol spray is in order. And possibly a shower. Have you no self-respect? Um, that was rhetorical.

For some (myself not included) the beginning of a new year is a time to make some resolutions to do something you should be doing now but for whatever reason (insert lame excuse here) it hasn't happened. But goodness knows, there's nothing like a new year to make you get off the couch and get busy making your life happen.

Personally, I don't make resolutions. I prefer to make life happen an all-year-round event.

The perfect New Year's Day consists of super cleaning my house while enjoying a glass of white wine, and giving my closet a good going over. Clean house, clean mind. And this year was no different.

I purged my closet of things that were torn, were too small, too big, too summery, too black, and anything that my teenage step-daughter would consider cool. Since I've been a stay-at-home-mom for the last 8 months, there wasn't much left after my purge...except my maternity clothes. Apparently working out has not been part of my get busy making life happen all-year-round event.

If you've never worn maternity clothes, I highly recommend it. Even if you are not, or never will have children. Unless you're a dude. Ok, maybe even then. Maternity clothes are SO super comfy. It's like having the flexibility of yoga pants with the style of...um, somthing stylish (I've been home for 8 months remember, I'm not up on my style trail-blazers).

I don't understand why anyone would want to go back to their "regular" clothes again. Eat too much at supper...no problem. Need to conseal a small weapon, again, you're golden. Plus, just give your tum a pat, and voila - the best parking spots, or seats on the bus. So as I head back to corporate world Canada tomorrow I will be wearing maternity clothes! (If my boss is reading this, I was kidding about the weapon part).

I will be wearing maternity clothes?

I will be wearing maternity clothes...

Maybe there is room for one resolution this year.

364 Days

Forgive me blogger for I have sinned. It has been 364 days since my last confession post.

My transgressions were many, and typically involved gluttony (hey I was eating for two). I have survived Paul going to Afghanistan. Almost giving birth to our daughter in the front seat of an SUV. Gaining weight, losing weight, gaining weight. Indulging in obsessive compulsive cleaning. Not showering for more than 24 hours. Feeling sorry for myself. And most of that's just from today!

I thought life was too busy for you blogger. And now my writing muscle has all but shrivelled up and died a painful death, like Lindsay Lohan's career. Even though I shunned you blogger, you were never very far away [because I like to keep my laptop close incase there's an important status update on Facebook].

But I'm ready to turn back to my writing ways blogger. With your help. And more coffee.

What can I do to atone for these sins? Say 7 Hail Mary's Drink 7 Bloody Mary's?

Done! Perhaps I should add consuming too much alcohol to my list of sins? Yeah, I was only kidding. There's nothing wrong with my sense of humor.

I'm back bitches!

Hello Ice Cream, It's Me Erika

There is not enough ice cream in the world to motivate me today. Perhaps this is because ice cream now gives me a bad case of projectile diarrhea. Then again, is there ever a good case of projectile diarrhea? Pounds lost be damned.

It has been 10 days since my last jelly bean. Coincidentially, it has been 10 days since I've been at work.

Vacation is a funny thing. And by funny, I mean boring. I remember now why I don't take vacations. I don't know what to do with myself when I'm off-the-clock and not shacked up in a tropical hut with Paul sipping penis coladas.

There are things I want to do: write a book. But I have writer ADHD, hense the blog. I'm all about the short snappers. But lately I can't even muster the creativity for a post, let alone a whole chapter. So, I decided to morph my book into a clever collection of short stories. Snapity snap. So far, I have a clever collection of possible short story titles. Perhaps I can just do a book of short story titles?

This drives me crazy to no end, ie. the bottom of a wine glass.  I totally need to get out of this rut. I keep waiting for some thing, some one to bitch-slap me back to my self-inflicted goals. I know I should be the one to deliver that kind of a blow. But I'm really getting into Ellen and Oprah and other possible procrastinatingly-friendly daytime TV research.