New Year's...Goals

Though New Year’s has never been my favorite holiday, I still can admit that there’s something exciting about it. It’s the opportunity for a fresh start and a chance to reflect on the coming year (while also wondering how Dick Clark manages to look so ridiculously young for his age).

I used to torture myself, writing lofty New Year’s Resolutions year after year only to be met with mixed results. Yet, I’m too sentimental to give them up entirely.

So, I’m not calling them resolutions this year. Instead, I call them “New Year’s Goals,” which seem much more tangible.

Goal #1: Running a marathon (aka "Proof that I am crazy") There’s always been a part of me that wanted to run a marathon, but I always dismissed it as something I could never do. Well, this is the year! And I’m determined to finish it, whether that means running across the finish line or crawling across it.

Goal #2: Finish my Master’s degree Even though I’m enjoying the program, it will be SO nice to finish. If all goes as planned, I will graduate at the end of July. And then I can erase phrases like “I would, but I have a paper for my Master’s class” from my everyday conversation.

I think that Goal #1 and #2 are quite ambitious enough and will keep me busy. But, when I’m tired from Goal #1 and #2, then I should focus on Goal #3…

Goal #3: Enjoy life. I think I do this most of the time already, but it never hurts to remember to relax, laugh, and enjoy the journey.

So, I think I’m in for a year of running, learning, and enjoying. Sounds like a great year to me!

Leftovers

There are a few members of my family (extended family, of course) that I’ve heard say outright that they just don’t eat leftovers.

I’m not even sure how that’s entirely possible. My mind still races with unanswered questions: Are they gourmet cooks? Do they order take-out every night? And, more importantly, what happens to the remaining slices of pizza if they aren’t eaten for breakfast the next morning??

Husband and I are firmly planted on the side of leftover fans. In fact, we’ve eaten delicious leftovers two nights in a row: the first night was spicy chilli and the second night was a full turkey dinner. We might even continue on our gluttony for leftover goodness and eat leftover soup for dinner tonight, making it straight three days of no cooking and tasty homemade food - a tempting combo.

All the leftovers were courtesy of our recent visit home for Christmas. Besides the leftover dinners, we have a yummy assortment of cookies, pastries, and candy.

I still puzzle over the select members in my family with their no-leftover policy. They have no idea what they’re missing.

The Best Gift of All

It’s not even Christmas yet, but I’ve already received the best gift I’ve ever gotten.

It’s not a new kitchen gadget or clothes or the perfume I wanted. It’s a gift that you can’t find at any store.

More specifically, the gift is a “he” - the tall, lanky goof of a husband that fills my life with love and laughter (and the occasional teasing about my near-obsessive cleaning habits).

And I’m so convinced that this is the best gift that I’m putting him on my wish list for next year, too.

Skip the Figs

Curiosity got the best of me. I’ve heard for years about this mysterious “figgy pudding” in the popular Christmas song. I figured it must be amazing, if a whole crowd sings: “we won’t go until we get some…”

I couldn’t remember ever eating a fig, except in a Newton. So, on a recent trip to the commissary, I decided to buy at least a small pack of dried figs.

Husband and I both tried them at home, looking at each other as we were chewing this infamous fruit, trying to decide what to make of it.

Husband’s verdict? “Eh, not so bad.”

My verdict? “Ew, not so good.”

Either way, I think you can safely skip the figs this year. And as for the people in the song and their figgy pudding? I guess that’ll be just another mystery of Christmas.

Husband and Holiday Shopping, Part II

[Note: What you are about to read is written from the perspective of Husband. It was not, in fact, written by Husband, so the perspective might not be 100% authentic.]

I thought we had come to an agreement. We’d get each other just one gift this year, making this crazy ritual called “Christmas gift-giving” finally simple for once. I already knew what I would get Wife. She asked specifically for Ralph Lauren perfume. Or was it Calvin Klein? Anyway, I can’t remember the exact name, but I know she said it was in a purple box. Works for me.

So I hadn’t given much thought to it all. I’d go out in advance (the day before Christmas – why rush?) and get the perfume, and it would all be done.

Except Wife, the overachiever that she is, had to do something horrible and ruin it all!

She came home one day from a shopping session and proudly announced that she had gotten 4 gifts for me. Yes, 4 gifts, which clearly violates our “one gift” policy. I did some quick math and figured that meant I had 3 (!) more gifts to buy her! I can’t be outdone by Wife for Christmas. That would break all the rules in the Guy Rulebook (2007 edition), not to mention it would probably leave her disappointed.

I mean, 4 gifts? [%$^*!] How am I going to come up with the remaining (and now required) 3 gifts?

I decided I might try to feel out the situation to come up with some gift ideas. (Heh…she’d never figure out what I was up to…) So I casually told her in the car one night that I had thought of a gift for her but it might be too practical.

And she says, “well as long as it’s not a vacuum.”

Well crap! There goes that idea. I don’t understand it. She salivates every time she sees a commercial for a Dyson. She herself even said how wonderful Dyson vacuums are (she borrowed a friend’s once) and she even did a pretend demonstration of her vacuuming with her invisible Dyson. And, what’s more, I know she hates our current vacuum. I’ve heard her complain about it almost every time she vacuums. So, the Dyson would have been a perfect gift! Why wouldn’t she want it?

Thankfully, the other night she took me shopping, and she actually pointed to the exact items that she wanted me to buy. Finally, I’m seeing some logic here in this gift-giving situation. She tells me what she wants, so I don’t have to hunt around for a gift she won’t like, and she ends up with the gift she wants. It’s perfect!

Oh. And she mentioned nonchalantly, after our shopping trip, that her mom used to buy herself her own Christmas gifts and wrap them up as if they were from her dad. This idea is genius! Her dad is one brilliant man for somehow ending up with this scenario. I’m going to push for this set-up next year.

Anyway, so I have a few gifts already. I’m still trying to think of one more gift idea, and I’m wondering - is it too late to convert to Judaism?

Husband and Holiday Shopping, Part I

I had almost become convinced that Husband wasn’t really afraid of anything. After all, his chosen profession is that of a fighter pilot. And if doing near-death stunts in the sky doesn’t scare him, then I would have never thought anything else would. Especially something that seems benign to me…like Christmas shopping.

I realized it one night last week when we were in the car, driving to a nearby restaurant.

I hadn’t given much thought to what he might be considering for Christmas gifts for me. I’m the overachiever that had all our Christmas shopping done over a week ago. Gifts for parents, grandparents, friends, other relatives – all done. So I figured that his part – picking up a couple things for me – would be easy. Not so fast, I learned in the car.

“So, I thought of a gift idea for you, but I figured it might be too practical,” he started.

He was evidently fishing for some approval for his potential gift idea, without wanting to reveal the gift.

“What’s too practical?” I asked him. “Like clothes?”

“Nope, not clothes,” he replied. “Something…else.” I guessed a few other things, to which he replied no to all.

Then, finally understanding his nervousness about gift-giving, I tried to console him. “Well, as long as it’s not something like a vacuum, I think you’re fine.”

He laughed nervously and I noticed his face getting red.

“You were going to buy me a vacuum??”

“Umm…well…yes.”

Oh boy.

This guy is in some serious gift-giving trouble. And, not just that, he is scared. I never noticed it before, but whenever we would talk about exchanging gifts, he’d get a strange look of dread, like he was about to undergo surgery to save his life.

I talked to him later, offering some ideas that might help. I listed a few things that I could always use, like pajamas or stationery. I even named a few of my favorite stores, including Border’s and Kohl’s. They were all great suggestions, except that it only generated more confusion for him, requiring me to explain exactly what stationery is (matching envelopes and paper for letters) and give both the definition (the greatest discount haven on earth) and location (just down the road) of Kohl’s.

But, not to worry. I actually took Husband to a couple stores last night to show him specific items that I might like. And then he made a trip to the checkout to purchase said items while I looked at other things, pretending not to notice.

So I offer my final gift-giving advice to Husband here:

- Being my husband is gift enough. Please don’t worry about gift giving. Honest.

And, to the ladies, I offer this:

- You might get something from your husband this Christmas that you're not crazy about. It might be something like a deep fryer, when fried foods usually make your stomach sick. [Hypothetically, this might have happened to me for my past birthday.] But, be grateful for the gift, knowing that he probably agonized over it and spent a lot of time thinking about it. And, if you do end up with something “too practical,” like my husband’s first idea, at least you can get rid of your old vacuum!

Dumpster Diving

I’ve always considered myself to be frugal. But, the realization that I was, in fact, really cheap didn’t come until one day last week when I found myself head first, nearly diving into a dumpster.

There’s a good reason for my dumpster-diving adventure, though. And yes, it involved saving money - $6.99 to be exact. Most people probably wouldn’t even venture near a dumpster for less than 10 bucks. [Hence, the “I’m-really-cheap” realization.]

I decided that our too-small dwelling had no place for the small box of Christmas lights that I had bought a couple weeks earlier. I figured I might as well return them.

So I set off to return the lights to the store and run a few other errands. I threw a couple bags of trash into the dumpster before I proceeded on my way.

I got into the car and looked around to make sure I had the bag with the box of Christmas lights that I wanted to return.

No bag.

I thought maybe I had forgotten it in our room, but I clearly remembered bringing it with me, along with the bags of trash.

And that’s when I realized. I inadvertently threw it in the dumpster!

For some reason, I felt a frantic sense of urgency to snag the bag out of the dumpster as quickly as possible. There really was no hurry since I knew that the truck had already arrived that day to empty it. (It served as our too-early wake-up call at the crack of dawn.) And there was really no danger of anyone “stealing” my bag of Christmas lights, since no one else was around. And besides, who else would be crazy enough to jump in the dumpster to take it?

But none of these rational thoughts occurred to me, since I was focused on saving my bag of Christmas lights - and the subsequent $6.99 in refund money.

I tried to reach down into the dumpster to take the bag of lights, going even as far as leaning half-way in, head first, reaching for the bag. But the bag sat innocently, too far below for me to reach.

I raced to my car, opening the trunk, looking for something to stand on to rescue the bag. I found a small box that looked like it might work. I brought it back over to the dumpster, standing on it, still too far away to grab the bag.

So I thought for a moment, and then I ran upstairs to our room, taking a wire hangar. I ran back downstairs to the dumpster in the parking lot, twisting the wire hangar into some sort of crude bag-grabbing device to aid in the rescue effort. And it actually worked!

I pulled up the bag, complete with the box of Christmas lights and the receipt still safely inside. I returned the lights to the store, which was much more uneventful than the preceding.

And what confirms that I’m really that cheap? I’d do it all again, if I had to. Although, to be on the safe side, I’m thinking that it might be better to make the trip to the dumpster next time with nothing else in hand but the trash.