On Resolutions (v. 2012)

Last year I made the first resolution proper of my adult life. You can find it detailed here.

I was pretty sure of my resolution. Not that I was excited about it so much as I knew I needed it. I knew it was the best thing I could do for myself with 365 days. So, just in case you don’t feel the need to read up on last year’s resolution (even if you did, it’s lengthy), let’s sum it up:

In 2011 I wanted to…
1. Be single and fabulous.
2. Be in the best shape of my life.
3. Find the perfect white gold earrings.
4. Clean the kitchen before bed.
5. Cover firewood before it starts raining.
6. Wear my favorite underwear on a Tuesday.

Now, let’s go through these quickly with the results added, shall we?

1. Be single and fabulous. Oops. One of two isn’t bad. Is it?
2. Be in the best shape of my life. DONE! Thanks, Tony Horton!
3. Find the perfect white gold earrings. Done: Turns out I needed to only mention this one to my mom before going home for Christmas. She considered it her personal mission. Thanks, Mom!
4. Clean the kitchen before bed. I'm going to need you to be more specific about which night.
5. Cover firewood before it starts raining. Definitely not. Same firewood is still outside. Probably wet right now.
6. Wear my favorite underwear on a Tuesday. Done: Check posting date.

So… looking at my year in review, I don’t think I did too poorly. Progress not perfection; isn’t that the saying?

I keep my kitchen clean for the most part; I choose my underwear based on whatever-the-hell-I-want; I’m in damn good shape (Shut up, knee!); and I sport earrings that my tender lobes aren’t allergic to. So what if my firewood is soaked?

And as far as the big, bad resolution that grounded all of these minor resolutions… I think I did alright by that one too. I set out to be single and fabulous and that didn’t quite work.

I didn’t turn down dates and I let myself get attached. A couple of times. But I also listened to myself. My heart, yes, sure. But more importantly, I listened to myself. The part of me that thinks a few steps ahead. The part of me that knows who I am and what I want. The part of me that sees myself and everyone around me as flawed beings. The realist who remains a reluctant, yet hopeless romantic. And, because I listened to myself, I was able to navigate more than a few relationships in 2011. Some of them romantic, most of them platonic.

Now, just a few days into 2012, I can boast possibly the best relationships I’ve ever had with my family. Built on honesty, trust, love, and so much laughter, our bonds haven’t ever been so strong.

I can tell you all about dear friends who’ve opened up their homes and their lives to me and my craziness, becoming chosen family. Give me a minute and I’ll pull out baby pictures and tell you about recent milestones with more pride than I thought possible for me to feel about someone else's child.

I can tell you about my career and how having confidence in myself has allowed me to reach students in ways I hadn’t before.

Thanks to my willingness to engage, to feel, to try, and to communicate, I can tell you about my boyfriend. About the woman who is everything I wanted but didn’t know I could have.

When I found last year’s resolution post accidentally tonight I thought, “Ha! Didn’t keep any of those!” But that’s not true at all, is it? I may not be single, and I guess some might consider that the main event of the resolution… but I sure don’t. What I read in last year’s resolution post is a desire for confidence, independence, and happiness.

Have I achieved those things? Certainly. In ways, at least. I’ll not pretend that I’m perfectly confident, independent, and happy all days and in all ways. But… I’ve come a long way.

It’s now less about what comes at me and more about what I give out. Shoot. Maybe I’m growing up.

Anyway… my resolution for 2012 is similar to 2011’s with one adjustment.

In 2012 I want to be healthy and fabulous.

This means… seeing about getting this damn knee fixed.

Keep me honest, friends. I’m already dreading the appointment. That I have yet to make.

This Weekend I...

Videochatted. A lot.

I had coffee on my friends' porch. I introduced my sister to some friends and her boyfriend to mine. I learned that my great grandfather was a lifeguard with Ronald Reagan. I watched my boyfriend cut the dickens out of her finger (see bandaid in above picture).

It all made for a lovely Saturday.

Did Ab Ripper X.

And the 10 Minute Trainer Ab workout. Back to back. I needed the stress relief or, as my friend Kaitlin would say, the medicinal benefits of exercise. It worked, to an extent. And... just now I sneezed and felt the confirmation of all that hard work.

Graded.

16 papers today. And 16 papers every day through Thursday to finish them up. I can do that, right?

Made (and ate) this sammich.

Peanut butter, bacon, green apple, honey. Mmph.

And now I'm going to watch TV and work on my Thanksgiving week menu. Get excited! I'll share some of it with you, if you're good.

How were your weekends, peaches?

The post and my very tender thoughts on it.

Last night I was caught off guard by this commercial:



I went from happily sipping whiskey and watching Chopped to the wanting to curl up under a quilt and cry.

This little thirty second ad said only one thing to me: The Post is in danger.

Now... you might have seen me around on the internet. I spend a lot of time there. Facebook, twitter, tumblr, this blog, your inbox, your mom's inbox. I get around online. I'm not ashamed of it. I've met friends, enemies, girlfriends, experts, celebrities, and probably your mom online that I likely would not ever have bumped into in any other way. The internet is my medium. I get it. I use it.

But. It's not the post.

The post is dreamy and romantic and personal and requires effort.

I can sit in my office and write you an email that says, "I'm thinking about you today."

You'll get the email in seconds. You'll smile, maybe, then it's done.

If I, on the other hand, write the very same message, "I'm thinking about you today." in a card or on a piece of stationery, seal it in an envelope, hunt down your address and a stamp, drive the whole lot to the post office (because my apartment pick-up is unreliable), and send it off in your direction, then you'll receive it in a very different way.

You'll get my card, open it, and know that for at least a bit of one day, I was thinking only about you and the piece of mail that would literally travel from my hands to yours. And then for weeks when you see it on your fridge or maybe a year later when it shows up in a junk drawer, you'll know that I was thinking about you then and just might be thinking about you again.

And... if the piece of mail is from me... then you might be able to tell that instead of spending minutes on your mail, I actually spent hours. Gluing paper, revising wording, baking treats, compiling songs, what have you.

Whatever the case... mailing something to someone means a lot more to me than sending them a text, a message on Facebook, a tweet. Those are daily. Those are tired.

The post. The post is where it's at.

It's no secret that this love of the post was passed down to me by my mom. My mom sends me roughly one card per week. Some weeks there's more than one. Some weeks (very rare) there isn't one at all.

Her cards range from the sincere to the bizarre.

Some of my favorites include the congratulations on my ballet recital and the mazel tov on my son's bris. Also the "Love being your sister" and the countless "Happy Birthday"s covered up with hearts and flowers and swirlies.

The common thread woven through these often silly cards is the fact the my mom loves me and that she thinks about me in a deliberate, focused way at least once a week.

Even so... I'm not the only person who benefits from my mom's postal expressions of love.

My brother, sister, boyfriend, and even some friends benefit from the occasional card. She recently sent one to a close friend of mine that featured a hotdog on the front and the inscription, "Bet you didn't think you'd get a wiener today!"

Don't you wish you were on her list now?

What I'm saying is... I love the post. Always have.

As a kid, I thought having a British pen pal was the best thing I could ever want out of life. As an adult, I've only slightly revised that idea.

My mom fuels my love for the post through her regular mailings. And I do my best to send notes and packages around as often as possible.

The thought that the USPS might be in such dire straights that they need to convince us to use paper in a world that begs us to go paperless is upsetting.

I've long thought of the post as the government's polite, "I'm going that way, would you like me to take that?" and I'd hate to see it waste away.

So... today I'm going to write letters. And buy stamps. And drop mail into the box knowing full well it will reach its destination and make one person feel good. Or better. Or something. Because that's what I do with the power of the post.

What do you mail?

Halloween Regrets

I didn't do anything for Halloween this year.

Really. Not a damn thing. I sat at home. I might have even had cereal for dinner; I don't remember.

This, for me, has been difficult. I love the hell out of Halloween. Usually I spend several months planning and perfecting my costume.

Since I didn't have the excitement of planning and executing the perfect costume for the day, I've had a hard time letting go of the costumes I'd considered. So... I'm blogging them in an attempt to set them aflame and push them out to see.

A Viking funeral for the costumes that didn't happen.

Now... this year I also have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is more than willing to play along with my costume excitement. You'll see that reflected in my choices. Let's start with the classics...

JFK and Marilyn Monroe:

I could be his Jackie, sure. But... I'm more Marilyn, dontcha think?

Johnny Cash and June Carter:

But only if I can carry around a dulcimer and tell all our friends we can't stay long because he's goin' to Jackson.

Now... a quick jump to...

Joan and Roger:

Any day. Any time. As long as I get to smirk, speak softly, and walk around the office like I own the damn place. Because... I do.

Which leads us to our topical couples...

Prince William and Kate Middleton:

Quick! While people will still recognize us!

DaveCat and Sidore:

Clear winner. Hands down. Amirite?!

Incidentally, "hands down" refers both to the DaveCat/Sidore win and the pose I'll be assuming for the entirety of the evening: Hands down, eyes blank, mouth slightly open. I've been practicing. It's spectacular.

So... I think this has helped.

I'll let these costumes go for this year. Knowing full well that I've catalogued them here and can revisit next October.

Who would you be if Halloween were this week and you had all the money and time to costume?

Stuff _____ Likes (An exercise in revision)

1. Prince
2. Cookbooks
3. Quilts
4. Texting
5. Fancy Drinks
6. Flintstones vitamins
7. Crafts
8. Sleeping

* * * * *

I... found this post, titled "Stuff ______ Likes," as a draft that I began August 1, 2009. It contained only this list of 8 things that I, at the time, liked.

And, while I do still like some of these things, I don't know that they would be the 8 things I would list when asked what I like. Let's revise, shall we?

1. Prince It's not that I don't like Prince. It's just. That. I like a lot of people like I like Prince.
2. Cookbooks These stay. I read them like novels.
3. Quilts They're fine. And sometimes great. But sometimes real freaky. Like when they're pilly. With... banish the thought... someone else's pills. Ew. I don't like those to touch my skin.
4. Texting Keeping this. Because, let's be honest. I don't function (as well) without it.
5. Fancy Drinks I'm a whiskey on the rocks girl. So, if that's fancy, then sure.
6. Flintstones vitamins Fell out of like. Only munch them occasionally these days, out of obligation and because I bought my last bottle at Sam's. They'll last forever.
7. Crafts Will. Always. Love.
8. Sleeping Same. C'mon.

So... I'm now left with

1. Cookbooks

2. Texting

3. Whiskey

4. Crafts

5. Sleeping

To which I'll add...

6. Teaching

7. Costumes

8. Cuddly toys (to include babies and round animals)

9. The Internets


(Webcam pumpkin-carving double date with my parents. Obvs.)

Now this is a list of stuff Amanda likes.

Pumpkin Ginger Pecan Cheesecake

Warning: This picture is old.


I say that not because it changes the greatness of this cheesecake. I say that because I don't want you all showing up on my doorstep, demanding pumpkin ginger pecan cheesecake.

Because... you guys... it's really that delicious.

For Thanksgiving two years ago (like I said... old), I wanted to do something traditional... but more exciting. So, instead of a good ol' pumpkin pie, I started researching pumpkin cheesecakes. It had to have been done, right?

And, boy, had it.

I ended up combining the filling from Sweetest Kitchen's Pumpkin Walnut Cheesecake and my own crust of ginger snaps, chopped pecans, sugar, and melted butter.

I riffed Sweetest Kitchen's crumble topping by swapping out the walnuts for my tiny pecans.

Trust me: it was all perfect. Perfect creamy pumpkin sandwiched between rich ginger snaps and sweet, mapley pecans.

Make. It. Tomorrow.

Or for Thanksgiving. Your choice.

Queer Query: My Root

Yesterday I posed this queer query:

What is one early memory worth sharing that makes you nod your head and say, “Yep. I was born this way?” What is your queer root?

The root of my particular queerness can be traced right back to… Beauty and the Beast.

The Disney movie.

Just think about it:

A nerdy girl who wants more than this provincial life runs off into the woods to rescue her hapless father from certain death at the hands of a legit beast. In order to free her caged father, she must live in the castle and dress up for the beast who’s taken a liking to her. She dutifully puts in time both batting her lashes and scolding this helpless brute, until one night he gets in a fight with another suitor, ascends to the heavens, acquires spirit finger jazz hands, and falls back to earth as the most beautifully effeminate dandy.

In other words, Belle meets someone. Moves in far too soon. Watches her life partner fend off another butch and marries the fairy when the dust settles.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it all along.

I mean. C’mon.



Super gay.

No wonder I ran home from school most days to watch it.

Other "My Root" posts from my friends:
Bren from Buzzcuts and Bustiers
G from Can I Help You, Sir?
Bee at Patriarchy Party Crasher
Timidvenus at Beautiful Suffering
Let me know when you write about your root! I want to read. : )