Resolved (Or, Deb vs. The Universe 2010)

It's hard to believe that this is the second New Year's Resolutions post I've written for this blog.  It doesn't seem like I've been blogging that long, but it is unmistakable: again, it is time to attempt to even the score between Deb and the Anti-Deb Forces in the Universe (ADFITU).


To update, here were my resolutions last year:


1. I will attempt to limit my Twilight reading.  


Happily, I can say I was successful in this one, to the point that I am down to re-reading the series once every couple of months or so.  Crossed off the list!


2. I will sing again.  Since having my children, I have been sadly neglectful of my voice.  I will stop telling myself that singing "Run Around" by Blues Traveler while driving counts as a warm-up.  I commit to warming up for 10-15 minutes daily, ceasing all caffeinated drinks, and only using my voice properly during teaching.

Sadly, this one will carry over into next year.  I have still been neglectful of my voice.  I have not ceased all caffeinated drinks.  Terrible.

3. No babies this year!  I had one in 2005 and one in 2007.  I will break the streak in 2009.   

Win!  No babies this year.

4. I will stop crying during the Sara McLachlan/ASPCA commercials, in which my daughter relentlessly points out "That doggy is sad, Mommy.  That kitty is sad, Mommy.  Where is the kitty's mommy?"  I will also try to stop crying when the news shows clips of people meeting celebrities, or when the fat woman wins on The Price Is Right.

Fail.  I cannot change myself this deeply.  Although I didn't succeed on this one, I'm not carrying it over.  I must accept what I cannot change, I realized the other night while weeping into my pork loin at Dolly Parton's Dixie Stampede Christmas Show.

5. I will stop making excuses about not shaving my legs.  This will just make the occasions when I do it more special.

Another win!  I let my tresses flap proudly in the breeze this year, so I can cross this one right off.

So, my first resolution will be the singing thing, and we'll go from there:

1. I will get my voice back in shape this year.

2. I will cook at least two nights a week.  We eat take-out approximately 7 nights out of 7, which is terrible for our health and bank account.  I resolve to be proactive and cook at least two nights a week starting in January, my busiest month of the year.  I hope to increase that as we go on.

3. I will exercise at least twice a week.  My dear, wonderful Sven has moved the treadmill downstairs, so I can wake up early a couple of days a week and go downstairs and (hopefully) not wake up the children with my power walking.  If I do 30 minutes twice a week, maybe I'll be in good enough shape to do some hiking and physical things this summer.

4. I will write or edit at least 10,000 words a week.  NaNoWriMo taught me this year I can really produce quantity if I give myself a goal.  Quality is something else entirely.

5. I will go out on a date with my husband WITHOUT the children at least once this year.  So far, since Princess was born in 2005, Sven and I have been out without the children two times.  Once for my friend Mary's wedding in 2007, and once on vacation in 2008, when Momz came with us to Branson and kept the kids for a night so we could go out to dinner.  Now that Dexy is 2 and Princess is 4, maybe we can hire a babysitter and go out on a real date.  Our anniversary is June 5.  I've promised Sven something special this year.  We'll see...

I know I can do it.  I can feel it, 2010 will be a great year.  They say life begins at 35, right?  I can't wait.

Filling the Void

It has come to my attention that Tyra Banks, the arbiter of all that is acceptable and important in my life, is ending her daily talk show in 2010.

It doesn't matter that I have never, technically, watched her show.  I do watch The Soup, and without Tyra, Joel has roughly 15 of his 22 minutes to fill.  What are we to do?  Where will the American public go for self-promotion and congratulation masquerading as altruism?

Me.

That's right, my friends, I'm announcing that I, Deb, will be hosting the Folksy Deb Show, starting in 2010, or whenever Tyra retires.  I will step forward to lead you through the frightening void caused by Tyra's absence.

I pledge I will:

1. Make every show, regardless of topic, about me.  Example:

Guest:  ...and that's when I found out I have fourteen extra toes inside my intestine.

Deb:  Wow.  That's just like the time I found out Cool Whip wasn't real whipped cream.  I was        DEVASTATED.  (Audience nods and makes sympathetic noises.)

Guest: I had to have most of my lower intestine removed.  I can't eat solid food anymore.

Deb: Exactly.  Life just loses all meaning when you know that dollop of whipped cream on Mom's pumpkin pie is really just a pile of synthetic goo.  (Audience members now wailing into Kleenex.)

Guest: But-

Deb: No, it's okay.  I understand.  We all go through it.  Here.  (Forcibly holds guest to bosom, patting her hard enough to dislodge her glasses.)  There, there.

Guest: Ow.

2. Become increasingly shrill and defensive over every flaw.

Deb: Okay, it has come to my attention that several magazines have published pictures of me consuming an entire bucket of ice cream.  Also, there was a picture of me with no makeup and several tabloids are now calling me "Folksy Zit."  Also, there was the whole mustache thing.

Audience: (Murmuring in distress)

Deb: Today, I'm sending a message.  We're all flawed.  We all eat enough dessert product in one sitting to feed an East Asian village for a month.  (murmurs of support)  We all have pimples so large we count them as dependents on our tax returns.  (shouts of "You go, girl!")  We all have facial hair so dark and coarse it makes us frankly question our identity.  So what?

Audience: (Now shouting in support)

Deb: Well, it stops today!  You know what I say to all of you?

Audience: Say it!  Say it!

Deb: I just said it.  Stop it.

Audience:  Oh.

Deb: I'm sorry I was so harsh.

Audience: (silence)

3. Synergize.

Deb: Today on the Folksy Deb show, we have the contestants from this season of America's Next Great Novelist, the reality show that I host in which I convince beautiful and talented young women that the secret to success is looking constipated but sexy at the same time.

Audience: Yay!

Deb: And we're using the footage of this show for that show, and this is actually a challenge for them!

Audience: Yay, yay!

Deb: And this whole thing is being used for a scene in an independent film my production company is funding!

Audience: Yay, yay, wow!

Deb: And then I'm going to cut an album!

Audience: Wow, really?  You think you can sing?  Just because you have a TV show?

Deb: All right, no album.

Audience: Yay!

4. Become emotional and practice "tough love" when necessary

Guest: Deb, I know you can help me with my severe phobia of dust mites.

Deb: Listen to me.  Stop it.  You have no idea how hard my life has been.  I got a hangnail today right before taping, and did I quit?  Did I stop?  No, I'm here.  Yes, the taping was delayed for two hours while I sat in a dark room with a cold cloth over my eyes to distract me from the intense pain, but I'm here.  We're all here!  How dare you think that your fear is greater than your responsibility to this planet?  HOW DARE YOU?

Guest: Sorry.

Deb: That's okay.  Come here.  (Attempts to clutch guest to bosom)

Guest: No thanks.

Deb: You're afraid I have dust mites in my bosom, aren't you?

Guest: No, it's not that-

Deb: COME HERE!  (Chases guests off the stage)

We'll be right back...