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happy new year.

**WARNING**: i'm going to say some really nice things about myself.  it may seem like bragging, but...i'm not:

i'm SUPER good at making goals. actually, more importantly, i'm SUPER good at making AND accomplishing goals. 

thanks young women's medallion, circa 1986.

i have a notebook that has every goal i have made since 1988, and an exact % of goals accomplished each year. my lowest score ever for a 1-year period is 78%. with a 20-year average of 93% of all goals accomplished.  no, i'm not kidding.

disturbing? or incredibly awesome?...depends on your mood i suppose. i'll admit that i teeter-totter myself on it.

i've been musing about 2011 goals for a couple months now.  compiling lists. making notes. trying to be realistic about how much 1 human can accomplish in a calendar year. the hardest part.

and then, a couple of weeks ago i was having dinner with my childhood friend and her husband and their kids. my friend was off cleaning dishes/yelling at the kids, and husband and i were lounging on our respective couches. digesting. i'm an amazing guest. 

and then most wonderful thing happened: out of nowhere he said:
"you know, candice, do you ever think about how we are at that age? that age when a lot of the things you thought you'd accomplish, or be, or do just...aren't going to happen. and...we just have to accept it. do you ever think about that?"
"nope."
"really? no?"
"nope."
"wow..."
"look, i'm not going to name names, but one of my kids is pretty naughty, so introspection is pretty low on my list of survival tasks." (cue one of the 5 kids in background: "piper! no hitting!")
"... ... "
"... ..."
"... ..."
"so....what is it that you're giving up on?"
"well, i always wanted to take ballroom dance classes with my wife. i just thought that would've be really fun..."

1. i think it's pretty cute that there is a 40 year old guy out there who wants to take dance classes with his wife. 2. i thought he was going to say something like, "i always wanted to be an OB/GYN. or live on a kibbutz. or hike manchu pichu." things that probably would be out of his reach at this point.

"you know jake. you...CAN still take ballroom dance classes."
"you think?? ...i don't know...."

right then i had an epiphany. i'm going to go totally out of character.  this year, i'm going to have ONE goal. and it's going to be something fun. something sensless. something that i've always wanted to do. but don't. because it's just totally unimportant. like dance classes.

i'm going to become a good baker.

it's my dream job. how many times have i fantasized about working in costco bakery? probably every time i've gone to costco, plus 182 more times.

just the thought of unwrapping block after block of butter and gently, lovingly, placing them in an industrial-sized blender gives me chills. spending my days perfectly wiping bowls clean with spatulas, kneading, & rolling. frosting & filling. coordinating ovens & their individual timers.  i'd lick beaters during my break, spend my nights purusing baking books for my next masterpiece.

i imagine a big walk-in fridge with shelves of cream, & milk & all sorts of fruit just waiting to be rolled and folded into fluffy sugarness. countertops with buckets of flour, sugar & shortening that never need to be refilled.

nothing sounds like more fun than walking into work in the morning and learning that i had 3 dozen custom cakes to make by noon. except maybe shrink wrapping 100 boxes of neatly lined croissants. or stocking the tables out front with pound cakes, muffins & pies. little brownies. and baguettes.

Well, there it is. i'm doing that THIS YEAR. before i start to think it's chronologically out of my reach. i can't wait for my daughter to be...nice. cause, what if she waits till SHE'S 40 to start being agreeable. and then i'll be 78. which is dangerously close to 80. and have you ever heard of a 80-year-old baker?

me neither.

this year there will not be a dozen+ goals, neatly filed into categories. checked & rechecked. mapped & re-mapped incessantly.  and i'll be honest, it's already a little stressful.  to ....be without a "plan". in case, you know, the whole costco thing doesn't pan out....

but i commit to eschewing all other goal-type notions that creep up.
2011:
1. become a good baker.  ... ... ...
and...
2. say more nice things about myself.

may 20, 2010

today i made a big mistake. one i've made before and so have no business making again: i didn't plan all of our errands in one big shibang. we made 4 outings.

and 4 outings equals 8 loads and unloads.

and about 47,001 times of this conversation:

"hurry buddy, mommy's about to drop the baby."
"why you want to drop our baby?"
"i DONT want to, that's why i need you to hurry and ______, so i can put her down"
"why babies can't _______?" (walk, talk, put pee-pee in pottys, eat nuts, drink big drinks)
"Levi, please JUST hurry!"
"OK!"

outing #1: took levi to school, came back home because forgot to load car with errand "stuff", made the 10 mile drive to winchells (yeah, it's an errand, and if you didn't already know that, you're life is boring), brought heidi and gracie doughnuts and put stuff from my garage in their garage, took doughnuts to mom and put stuff from my garage in her garage. my genius idea for cleaning out my garage is to put stuff in it into other people's garage.  so far it's working.

outing #2: pick levi up from school, meet the mom of his "best friend" that he's been talking about since the first day to try to arrange for him to come over once school is out, hope she finds me "acceptable" stranger for her son to play with, get gas, go to Lowe's to find out how much it will cost to put a fence around our D**N pool (more than the pool cost), buy an outdoor rug that was $200 and is now on clearance for $50, and some gloves to pull weeds, $9.

outing #3: go down to old house to clean up loose ends and check mail, go to "our" great clips to get levi's haircut, work out for 45 minutes, a.k.a. wrestling with pickles, while waiting for levi's turn, make bank deposits, get drink from favorite place in old neighborhood.

outing #4: go to stewart's year end concert at his school, run behind (of course), get black all over shirt trying to reach the bottle under the car that pickles threw at me when i opened car door, spend precious concert minutes convincing levi that the car will NOT crash into him if he gets under it to get the bottle, think stewart is an awesome 13-year old with mad cello skills, tell his mom that he suddenly looks JUST like his dad, beg him to babysit pickles tomorrow, lick my lips as i drive by u-swirl, wonder if i would get in trouble if i got yogurt super-fast and left baby in car, decide against it, drive the long way home because want to listen to dave ramsey for a few minutes. 

i think the packing up, refilling of cups, checking for diapers and wipes, restocking snacks, looking for and reapplying shoes, finding purse, and keys and coming back inside because i forgot my _______ (phone, sunglasses, shoes, bag of nuts) is more exhausting than anything i actually do ON the errands. maybe not. it's all exhausting.

i won't make that mistake again for a long time. and i think the best way to make sure i don't, is to not go on any errands for at least a couple of days.

in other news, our DP (damn pool) was tilting. so i have to drain it and start over. as of this moment it's been draining for 37 hours. i'm so happy we have that. everyone is tucked in. going to watch dvr'd episodes of "the good wife" until i fall asleep.