A Wondering Spirit

Randoms

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 01:55:00 +0000

I don't have enough coherent thoughts to string together one whole post, so I'm just gonna throw some bullet points out there and see what sticks.

I knew I would be busy during tax season, but I didn't realize I would be this busy. This kind of "holy shiz, I'm never going to respond to all these emails that I actually REALLY WANT TO RESPOND TO." I need to be a better time manager. How do those of you doing the Midnight Hustle (no, that's not a that's what she said reference, it's a Jess LC quote about working a day job and doing your "dream job" at night) manage your time and still make it through?
Next week at this time, I'll be packing for my very first blog conference, BlissDom! I'm going primarily to promote my biz-nass, but also to learn from others and meet new people. Oh, and also to have a blast with my partner in crime, Emily.
It's February 15 and I'm still on track with #lettermo! In exchange I've gotten some very cool cards, letters, and even a package today with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Ballin'!
This past Sunday in church, our rector said something that has stuck with me all week. She was talking about seeing a bumper sticker that said "When America blesses God, God will bless America." And she said (and I'm trying to quote this directly, because I honestly got out my Moleskine and wrote it down as soon as she said it), "This seems to imply that we as humans have to do something in order for God to bless us, and that's not the God that I believe in."
I am doing another collaborative Spotify playlist...this one called "Let's Dance". Come over and add your favorite booty-shakers!
What's happening in y'all's world?

Book club

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 03:45:00 +0000

Source: etsy.com via Holli on Pinterest

I have somehow managed to be in the enviable position of having several friends who are either published authors, have book deals, or are working on books. Recently one of these friends asked me, "So when are you going to start working on your book?"

My book. The little girl who dreamed of being a writer since she learned to write leapt for joy inside my chest. My book. Mine. In college, I took a creative writing class and at the end of the semester, we picked our favorite essays and had them bound into a paperback book. This is embarrassing to admit but sometimes even today, I go get that ragged paper book and look at my name on the cover. My name. My book.

The problem with me writing a book, other than the fact that I can't seem to attract more than 25 readers to my site which might present a bit of a quandary for the enterprising publisher, is that I doubt they will be so keen on publishing me under the pseudonym The Great Askini. And that means I'd have to own up to all the feelings I write about here, in the real world. I'd have to be authentically me.

Recently in therapy I counted at least 14 different personas that I inhabit regularly. (I'm sure my therapist, in her head, was planning the swimming pool she'll install by treating my freakshow self.) There's work me, me with X group of friends, me with Y group of friends, me with my family of origin, me with my Twitter friends, me with my Facebook friends... the list goes on and on. I tried to think of one person in my life who knows everything about me, who cuts through all the layers, and came up empty-handed. One of my goals in life is to knock down all those barriers, to say "yeah, Mom, I write this blog and I have these feelings and I say the f-word a LOT and I do things that will make you disappointed but surely that doesn't make you love me any less." Then again, a very wise woman once told me that there is a difference between honesty and privacy. She used the example of telling your parents about your sex life. Just because you don't tell them everything doesn't mean you're dishonest... it just means there are some things in your life better held close to the chest. I don't know that line. I'm either laying it all on the table, or I'm playing one of my roles.

But how do you achieve authenticity when you're so afraid that if anyone--anyone--knew the real crazy that lurks inside your chest, they'd run screaming? How do you move beyond fear into trust that we're all just a million different kinds of fucked up, none more so than the other?

Once I figure that out, I'll give you the answer... but you'll have to buy the book.

Burning questions

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 02:53:00 +0000

I don't think it's any secret that I have a crush on Danielle LaPorte. I am in love with the way she writes and the way she makes business so accessible, exciting, and magical. So when I saw that she was launching a new series on her blog called The Burning Question, I felt like I needed in.

The basic gist of The Burning Question is that Danielle asks a question on her blog, and then you answer it on your own blog and link back to hers. The inaugural Burning Question is this:

Your day, kissing, next success, friendships, nervous system, money-making… How do you want it all to feel?

I want my days to feel like standing in the ocean, waiting for waves to come and then jumping into them, one after another, with abandon and glee.

I want my work to feel like the first bubbles of champagne on my tongue.

I want my body to feel like my cat, Bella's stretchy walk as she wakes up from a nap.

I want my laughter to feel like a rushing river that can't help but sweep everyone else away.

I want my relationships to feel like a faded photograph in someone's wallet, cherished, familiar, prized above all others.

I want my home to feel like clean crisp bedsheets warmed by an electric blanket.

I want my mission to feel like whispered prayers in a hushed room, and the silence between them.

How do you want your life to feel? I'd love to hear your answers, or link up through the official site!

When you can't say anything...

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 18:02:00 +0000

... just blatantly copy from someone else.

One of my favorite books of all time is Brene' Brown's The Gifts of Imperfection. Over the past few weeks, I've kept coming back to this passage over and over and over again. I hope she won't mind that I posted a paragraph of her book here. If it helps someone else get through this crazy life, I think she might be okay with it. (And if it resonates with you, go out and buy this book. You will devour it.)

...I'm convinced that we all numb and take the edge off. The question is, does our _________ (eating, drinking, spending, gambling, saving the world, incessant gossiping, perfectionism, sixty-hour workweek) get in the way of our authenticity? Does it stop us from being emotionally honest and setting boundaries and feeling like we're enough? Does it keep us from staying out of judgment and from feeling connected? Are we using ________ to hide or escape from the reality of our lives?

Understanding my behaviors and feelings through a vulnerability lens rather than strictly through an addiction lens changed my entire life. ... I can definitely say, "Hi, I'm Brene', and today I'd like to deal with vulnerability and uncertainty with an apple fritter, a beer and cigarette, and spending seven hours on Facebook." That feels uncomfortably honest.

Soundtracks

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 17:30:00 +0000

A Twitter conversation broke out earlier this week (I think? I'm way off on my weeks) that I wanted to write a little more about.

What's the best movie soundtrack of all time?

Laura astutely observed that you really have to break this down into categories, but I could really only think of two: musicals and non-musicals.

Musicals

Mari knocked this one out of the park (in my opinion) when she suggested Grease. The Grease soundtrack was released before I was born, you guys. Yet I still listen to it frequently on my iPod. Tell me that you don't sing along with "Hopelessly Devoted to You" and I'll tell you that you're a damn liar.

Honorable mention goes to Saturday Night Fever (More Than A Woman? A Fifth of Beethoven? Night Fever?!?) and Dirty Dancing, although you could argue that neither of these films are true "musicals" in the sense that Grease is.

Non-Musicals

This is where our Twitter conversation got started, with my controversial view that Cruel Intentions is the best movie soundtrack of all time. The movie itself is sort of a piece of shite (although bonus points for hot young Ryan Phillippe), but I have loved the soundtrack from start to finish ever since I first got it, and at least for me, it hasn't lost its luster with age.

I have a few honorable mentions here: the Once soundtrack (although I'm torn about whether this should be in the "musicals" category), Reality Bites, and Singles. Both those last ones are products of my generation, I'm sure.

So, tell me how wrong I am, because I'm sure I'm missing some really good ones! And come over to my Spotify soundtrack playlist and add your favorite soundtracks.

Wondering Wednesday February 1

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 13:00:00 +0000

I couldn't think of a clever title for this week's. By now, y'all know the drill... young girl dreams of being an advice columnist, yada yada yada, Wondering Wednesday is born. If you have questions for which you need advice, let me know! We have two questions this week..

Dear Great Askini,
I think I may be in danger of having a Mariah Carey on TRL sized meltdown. Between my day job, night job (which, btw, does not involve me taking off my clothes for money), and family, I've got every second of every day planned out and more demands on me than I can even process. The stress has gotten to the point it's starting to physically manifest. Any suggestions for how to overcome the stress and still meet all my deadlines and be a decent mother/sister/child? (And before you suggest yoga, which I would probably enjoy, know that it's not a possibility for me because (1) my own Chronic won't allow it and (2) I don't have time to drive 30 minutes to classes.)
Signed,
Considering Valium

Dear Do More Than Consider It,
Oh, pumpkin. I think probably everyone reading this blog can relate to where you are right now, and if they can't, they will someday. And also, stop gloating. I can only tell you some things that have helped me with my own stress, although let's be honest, I'm not exactly the Poster Child for Overcoming Stress and Exuding Positivity:

(1) Breathe. There's a reason why one of my leading choices for my upcoming ink reminds me of this.

Source: google.com via Holli on Pinterest

Take a minute, or five minutes. Set the timer on your phone if you think you might fall asleep. Sit down somewhere comfortable, turn off any music, and just... breathe. Listen to your body. Where is it tense? Where is it comfortable? Breathe in peace, breathe out stress. Or as one of my favorite yoga teachers once said, imagine the air coming in your lungs as white, clean air, and the air going out as dirty, stressed-out air. Just breathe.

(2) Take a few minutes once a week and do something just for you. Whether it's something like legs-up-the-wall pose, or listening to your favorite music while drinking a cup of coffee, or journaling just for you, or calling a friend and not letting yourself multitask while you're doing it, put this on your calendar and keep the appointment. You will be a better caretaker, a better employee, a better friend, and a better you.

(3) If you have the money, I swear by Jennifer Polle's self-hypnosis CDs. I have four of them, and I've found them especially helpful in dealing with my own Chronic. I listen to one of them almost every night before going to sleep, and even if you fall asleep within the first few minutes, it's still okay, and it still relaxes me, and even if it's all a pile of crap, I am okay with it because it makes me feel better.

Keep me posted, dear reader. I want you to be able to have a fantabulous existence, and you need to take care of you in order to do so.

Hi Great Askini,

It's No-Longer Knocked Up Katie here. Thank you for all your answers and support during my pregnancy! My little man was born at the end of December and he is so cute and perfect. I'm in love. And don't worry, I will have a million questions for you as I figure out this little person. Right now, I have a work-related question...ugh. Remember how I have that horrible boss? Well of course I haven't heard from him since I had the baby - I didn't expect a congratulatory email or card or anything else that I've gotten from my co-workers, and I don't like even thinking about him but I'm getting closer to returning to work and I need your help. I'm breastfeeding and will have to pump at work. Luckily we have a room for this in the office. I'm sure that my boss has no idea about breastfeeding (remember that he's an almost 50 year old gay man with no children). Do I need to ask permission to breastfeed during the day? Do I need to inform him that I will be breastfeeding? Should I just do it and act normal if he wonders where I am? Should I contact HR and ask them these questions or talk to my boss's boss (a woman with three kids)? I don't want him to have any reason to think that I'm slacking or using company time. I've already figured that I will be working through lunch each day or staying a little later to make sure that he can't say I'm not putting in a full day. Will you help me CMA?

Thanks,
Katie

Hey Katie! I'm so happy to hear about your little man. Now, on to pumping in the office. I handled this in the most straightforward way possible. When I came back to work, I simply made myself a little post-it note sign that said "Nursing Mom At Work--Please Come Back in 15 Minutes". Every time I needed to pump, I stood up, put my note on the door to my office, closed and locked it, and then pumped in peace. When I was done, I opened my door and walked my milk down to the fridge. There were only a couple of times that people didn't notice the note, and knocked on my door. Once I said, "I'm pumping right now," you best believe they ran scared.

This has nothing to do with your already-documented-douche of a boss, however. Still, I wouldn't make a big deal out of it. Don't you have a friend in HR? I might inform them that you are breastfeeding, and that if you're away from your desk, you are in the lactation room (or whatever the hell it's called... I prefer the Tits Out Office). I would emphasize that you are making up the time you are away, and I would document that for the first couple of weeks that you're back. Then, I'd let it go and focus on your precious little dude. If he wants to be that big of a dick that he's going to get pissy about you pumping, you can at least have your own back covered.

Any moms out there ever had a boss who was less than thrilled with pumping?

Dear Mr. Postman

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 18:06:00 +0000

I found this link via my friend Beth's Facebook page last weekend. Go ahead, read it. I'll wait.

Done? Good.

I'm gonna do this, y'all.

You might be saying to yourself, "what the fuck is she thinking? She doesn't even have time to blog anymore." And I might be saying this to myself as well. I'm embarking on my first tax season as a professional preparer, I'm also working a full-time job, I have a soon-to-be-three-year-old, and oh yeah, I'm training for the Run the Bluegrass half-marathon.

Besides my obvious problems with overcommitment, I've noticed a bit of a January blah in my life. After doing a bit of soul searching, I've realized that it's the lack of mail that I give a shit about. In December, I'm receiving holiday cards from friends near and far... packages of gifts I bought online... and invitations to parties. In January, I'm receiving credit card bills and invitations to CPA seminars. Not nearly as exciting. I miss getting real mail, mail I looked forward to receiving.

There are a couple of letters I already need to write, a couple of birthday cards I need to send. These aren't going to be novels. They're going to be cards, or postcards, or clippings from magazines with a post-it note. Just a little sparkle in someone else's day.

Do you want mail from me this February? If so, email me your snail mail address. I've already had one person contact me via the Twitter hashtag (#lettermo) and we are going to exchange mail next month. How cool is that?

Wondering Wednesday and the Chamber of Payroll Secrets

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 14:30:00 +0000

...sorry, I thought I might get some hits from people trying to find Pottermore.

Wondering Wednesday is my mostly-every-Wednesday attempt to be the advice columnist I dreamed of being as a little girl. If you have questions, please send them to me!

This week's question comes from e-mail:

Dear Great Askini,

I need your help on a delicate issue. It's delicate because no one likes to talk about how much they make, how much they wish they made and how much they think they are actually worth. On top of these normal issues, we are also dealing with a less than stellar economy. Those of us with jobs have it forced down our throats that we should be thankful for any measly scrap that The Man sees fit to give us. That is a whole OTHER issue, but I want to try to iterate that I realize that so many people in our country are out of work. I realize that so many people are underemployed. I realize that many companies aren't even giving cost of living adjustments, much less raises and bonuses. I understand that. However, I also understand that one very often has to be one's own advocate in the realm of compensation. I know how the world works. I know that, as a professional woman, I have to be especially diligent in making sure that I am compensated fairly.

I'm not sure I can avoid this delicate issue after today. I learned something at my job that I wasn't supposed to learn. A file was mistakenly sent to me that listed my position's official salary range. As it turns out, I am WAY underpaid - almost 10% less than the range's minimum. That's a pretty upsetting thing to realize.

I should give a little bit of background. I've been in my current position for about 3.5 years. I supervise a handful of employees and am in charge of a department. My last job, at a different company, had much less responsibility but a much broader scope. I left that company because I saw the writing on the wall (I was never going to be valued and the organization was in for a major overhaul) for my current position and a sizable increase in salary (~$20k). It turns out that I was completely inept in my salary negotiations and settled for WAY less than the bottom of the organization's salary range. I mean. obviously I did. I've been here 3.5 years and am still 10% less than the range's minimum. I feel like a complete idiot.

I'm currently so far behind that I feel like I'll never catch up. At the rate of historical increases, it will take two years from now to even reach that minimum. Our compensation system is designed such that even if I approached my boss about it that I could never just bump all the way up to the range's minimum immediately. That is assuming that I even find the guts to broach the subject - especially since I know I wasn't supposed to see the original file that was mistakenly sent to me.

My question to you is this: What is the best way to deal with this situation?

Should I let my boss know that I know what the deal is - I'm underpaid - and I understand if there's absolutely nothing to be done about it, but I can't just stand by and not see if there is something that can be done about it?

Should I act like I never looked at the file that was mistakenly sent to me? I honestly didn't look at other people's compensation, I just checked out my own deal?

Should I suck it up and just be thankful for what I do have?

Signed,
Always a Dollar (or a G) Short

Dear Ma$e,

Yikes, this is tricky. First things first, though: stop beating yourself up. I understand that you're feeling less than savvy about realizing that your salary negotiations were not exactly up to par, but that was 3 1/2 years ago. Did you feel good about your salary before you opened that file? Did you feel like you were paid what you are worth? Did you fist-pump when you found out you were going to make $20K more a year at this job than your last one? Point being, you can't unknow what you know, but you can stop giving yourself a hard time. Feeling badly about yourself is not going to give you the confidence you need to rectify this situation.

And yes, you're exactly right. The economy and the job situation has everyone in a bit of a bind. It's not like you can go out and interview to find out what you're worth on the open market, because there are probably 300 people also interviewing for that job.

Have you had an annual review yet? Or does your company do that? If you haven't already had it, that would be the ideal time to bring this up. I think I would probably go with the honest approach, backed up by the reasons you deserve it. "I received this information by accident, but it let me know that my current pay is at least 10% below my position's salary minimum. I believe that I'm worth that amount, because of X, Y, and Z accomplishments that I've accomplished over the past 3 years." If you have already had your annual review, or you don't have that option, I'd just schedule a meeting with my boss. If you're anything like me, it's going to worry the shit out of you until you say something about it.

It could be that your boss says, "Oh, those salary ranges are way outdated and no one makes what they say they should." Well, now you know it's not just you. Or he/she could say, "I agree, but we can't do the entire 10% this year." Okay, maybe you negotiate for more vacation time or ask for the 10% increase incrementally over three years or something. Regardless, best case, you get some more cheese out of your job; worst case, you looked at something you weren't supposed to (but if it shows up in your inbox, IMO, it's fair game) and might get nothing in return for it. It's worth asking the question, though.

Let us know how it goes! And if it helps, tell your boss the Great Askini's got your back. (Hint: it won't help.)

Free Writing

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:58:00 +0000

... in that it's certainly not for pay, because none of y'all would spend a dime for this shizz.

I recently saw a tweet where someone was talking about doing 10 minutes of free-writing, stream-of-consciousness, no editing allowed, on their blog. I lost the tweet somewhere in the stream of things, but liked the idea. So, here goes.

Last night, I dreamed that I woke up. It's weird to dream about waking up, and it probably means something about my psyche. I dreamed I woke up to the news that the United States had collapsed. Literally, I logged onto CNN.com and the headline, bold and glaring, was U.S. Collapses. There were photos of the White House burning, planes crashing, bombed-out shells of villages. And the thing that bothered me the most was that no one had bothered to call and tell me. I had to learn it on my own.

Tonight I went for a run after work, if you call the second day of the second week of Couch-to-5K a "run". Several years ago I learned the hard way that I have exercise-induced asthma when it's cold outside, and I have an inhaler at the ready. But it was 52 degrees tonight and I didn't think I needed it. I started strong, running longer than the prescribed intervals (90 seconds? embarrassing) and "I gotta thank God 'cause he gives me the strength to rock hard" on my iPod. Halfway through, my lungs felt like the withered balloon we found hidden under a chair in C's playroom from a birthday party months ago. I could hear my heart beating in my ears, struggling. This is the way I go, then; not with a bang, but with the petulant whine of Lady Gaga. "I don't wanna be friends." But I didn't stop running, and for one second, I understood the appeal of self-harming. The body's struggle to keep itself afloat pushing all the mental fuzz and bullshit off the plate. The entirety of one's being encompassed in just getting the air into that little shriveled-up balloon. I got it. But the song changed to Britney and the interval changed to walking and before I knew it, I was at home with my inhaler clutched firmly to my chest.

The thing that bothered me the most was that no one called and told me that the world was burning. Underneath, I never outgrew that little girl who refused to go to bed until her mommy and daddy did, just in case something cool happened and she might miss it. A hoarder of information, of gossip, too eager to share it, to give someone a tip in the hopes that they will think she's cool, she's popular, she's smarter than the average bear.

I like to think I would have called you all. But in my heart of hearts, I don't know what I would have said. The evidence spoke for itself.

Great delight

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 15:07:00 +0000

I'd like to say I haven't blogged in a week as a protest of SOPA and PIPA. But in fact, it's just because I've been super busy at work and both T and I have had the HEAD FUNK. As much as this might sound like a cool new pot-smoking George Clinton band, it's in fact the grodiest shit ever. Anywho...

Laurie got me this mug for Christmas. It's sort of been my goal for each day, ever since.

Great delight. I think I spend most of my days living way beneath that... somewhere between "great indifference" and "Jesus, my life is a piece of crap (in a totally first world kind of way)". So yesterday, I made it a goal to document some moments of great delight, which I hope you won't mind me sharing with you.

The first sip of coffee from my Keurig, which still delights me after having it for almost a month.
Brainstorming ideas at work with a talented co-worker, who inspired me to think creatively and who validated my suggestions.
My soon-to-be-stepmother asked me to be the matron of honor in her wedding. I was actually surprised by how touched I was by this request.
My husband posting a picture on Facebook of our daughter from the summer of 2010, and marveling at how different she looked and how different our lives were then.
Dreaming big about my business and the ideas I have for making it spectacular after tax season is over.
Seeing my beloved baby bro in person.
Watching C interact with my dad and seeing how head-over-heels for her he is.
My favorite: C got two Starburst candies at daycare. Her BFF Jordan was crying and sad, so she gave one of them to him. This is a big deal in a family that doesn't often share candy :).

What moments of great delight can you cultivate today? Please share them with me in the comments!

BlogHer Book Club: Why Women Need Fat

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 14:50:00 +0000

My last BlogHer Book Club review before I take a small break for year-end/tax season was for the book Why Women Need Fat: How "Healthy" Food Makes Us Gain Excess Weight and the Surprising Solution to Losing It Forever, by Dr. William Lassek and Dr. Steven Gaulin. Y'all, I can't tell you how many books like this I've read over the years. I was hoping to learn something new from this one.

I really appreciated the approach of this book, which was anthropology-based and dealt with why women's bodies retain fat more than men's. I also enjoyed the section where it talked about women's bodies and how they have evolved related to childbirth and child raising. (For example, did you know that "a girl stores fat throughout her childhood in her legs and hips to bank the omega-3 DHA that her children will need to have a large and well-functioning brain"?) In the end, the book provides some concrete recommendations on how to get your body to its "natural weight".... and my favorite part of Why Women Need Fat was that it tells you that your "natural weight" might indeed be 200 pounds, and that there is no scientific evidence saying that weighing 200 pounds, in and of itself, makes you unhealthy. This is the conclusion I have come to on my own after months of focusing on intuitive eating and listening to my body, so I'm happy to hear doctors validate this. However, I also look forward to incorporating many of their suggestions (limiting commercial beverages, eating nuts and fruit for snacks, and especially limiting the amount of processed food).

As a working mom, the processed food thing is especially tough for me, so I appreciated that the book gives concrete suggestions--if you have to eat fast food, try these things at Arby's over these things. Overall, if you're interested in a common sense approach to health (as opposed to losing weight), I highly recommend this book.

Come check out more about the book and the discussion at the BlogHer Book Club website!

Disclaimer: This is a paid review for the BlogHer Book Club; however, as always, all opinions expressed are my own.

Connections

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 21:48:00 +0000

One of the things that I have always been told about finding your ideal career is to identify what really lights you up. What do you spend time doing for free just because you love it so much? And how can you do that in a way that people would pay for it?

I have always answered that question that I like "helping people," but have never been able to be more specific than that. I don't really like the idea of being a therapist, for example, or a yoga teacher (although I do still want to do yoga teacher training, just for my own self). I don't like sickness, so being a nurse is out.

It came to me, as most brilliant things do, in the shower yesterday. I was so excited by it that I wrote it down in the little pink Moleskine I keep in my purse at all times. What really lights me up is not so much helping people, but connecting people. A couple of examples: whenever I see two friends having a Twitter conversation, and I know that those two people only met on Twitter because I recommended one to the other, I feel awesome. Like I've really enriched their lives by introducing them to one another. And today, I was able to give another Twitter friend a lead on a job that she is really excited by. I've been riding the wave of that high all afternoon long.

I also really like finding answers for people. My coworkers would say that I probably do too much of this. When someone calls me with a question that really isn't my job to answer, if at all possible, I will take the time to find out the answer and give it to them. If a friend absentmindedly wonders aloud something, I'm on my iPhone Googling the answer. It makes me really happy to be able to go above and beyond what is expected of me in that way.

Connecting people. Finding answers for people. If I were a website, I'd be Twitter with a Google Search bar in the upper right hand corner. Now how the hell do you do that for a living?

What lights you up inside? Have you figured out how to make it work for you?

Oh, baby

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 01:41:00 +0000

I've seen my share of the eye-rolling and the hand-wringing on Facebook and (less frequently) Twitter over the past couple of days. "Could we all stop focusing on Beyonce and Jay-Z's baby and get back to real life?" "I'm so sick of hearing about this damn baby." "Maybe if we focused as much on the shitty state of the economy as we do on this baby, life would be better for everyone."

Really, I get it. Especially if the rumors are true about their celebrity treatment, I agree that it's not cool. (Although I would argue that's more about the hospital than about Bey-Z.) But does anyone else remember the exact same thing last April, when it was the royal wedding that had these people in a tizzy? Back then, if we had only focused on the economy instead of William and Kate, we would all be swimming in money like Scrooge McDuck right now. But instead, we focused on Babyonce. And now here we are, fucked as ever.

Humankind seems to have an amazing ability to avoid seeing what's right in front of our faces, especially when that something is ugly, dark, or difficult to take. Instead, we lose ourselves in fantasy, in books, in television, in computer games or Facebook. (There's a reason that Hollywood became the primary producer of movies during the Great Depression of the 1920s.) For a brief moment, our 401(k) accounts aren't tanking, our friends aren't unemployed, our pets aren't dying, and our children aren't disobeying us at every turn. It's just a man and a woman, exchanging vows in front of a lot of people in really funny hats. It's just a baby, a baby just like any of us were. A baby that might remind us of the joys that life has had to offer us, still has if we look close enough for it.

I don't know about you guys, but I'm all too aware of the chaos that surrounds me, outside my front door, inside my home, inside my soul. I don't need any more focus on it. For a few minutes, I need to remember that we all were babies once. I need to remember the moment of looking into my daughter's eyes for the first time. I need to listen to this song a couple of times and think about love and its ultimate triumph over fear.

Welcome to this ultimately fucked-up, beautiful world, Blue Ivy.

My brush with celebrity

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 02:01:00 +0000

I was chatting with Ann on Twitter a few nights ago about the show "Weeds", and I realized in the course of that conversation that there is a legendary story I've never shared with you guys. There is a reason for that, of course--it makes me look like a total moron--but since when has that stopped me?

Part 1--The Setup.

Have you ever been watching an awards show and wondered who the people were behind the ropes of the red carpet? Well, I'm here to tell you that for three joyous years in the mid-2000s, I was one of those people at the Golden Globes. The Globes are always hosted by the Beverly Hilton, and in order to maximize their revenue, they sell tickets to the red carpet for fans. Very, very expensive tickets. I found out about this through Trisha, whose friends had gone for a few years. She and I went for the first time in 2005. The "package" that you purchase includes two nights in the Hilton (the night before and the night of the awards), a breakfast the morning of the show, and a full day sitting in the bleachers on the red carpet. Once the show begins (which is something like 4 or 5 pm, Pacific time, so that it can be broadcast live on the East Coast), we are released from the bleachers. The awards show isn't on yet on the West Coast (it's broadcast later on tape delay), but you can watch it live from the hotel's closed-circuit channel. We had a great time and decided to go back the next year.

In 2006, the Beverly Hilton sweetened the deal a bit (of course, for some extra money). If you so chose, you could pay to go to a separate ballroom in the hotel, eat the same meal that the celebs were eating in the main ballroom, and watch the closed-circuit feed on a big screen with others. We weren't sure what this would be like, but opted in. It ended up being a lot of fun, primarily (for me) because of the free-flowing Moet Imperial Nectar at every table. It appeared that no one else at our table liked champagne (SAVAGES!), so I was able to partake quite a bit. Remember this when we get to part three.

Part 2--The Game.

In order to "secure the premises" for the red carpet, they herd us out onto the bleachers at the butt crack of noon. This doesn't seem so bad until you realize that the red carpet events don't start until 3. Lots of people bring knitting, or crossword puzzles. In 2006, bored with all of our magazines that we had brought, Jill and I came up with the Game.

The Game was inspired by a chance encounter in a parking garage the night before with Sir Anthony Hopkins (yes, he drives himself... it was a BMW). Jill, a huge fan, had asked him for a photo, which he graciously agreed to. Afterwards, we were discussing how he probably gets "loved you in Silence with the Lambs" all the time, and how Jill wished she had been able to demonstrate that she was a die-hard fan by saying something like "loved you in Nixon" or another random or obscure reference. So, as we passed the time on the bleachers, we started playing this game called "Loved You In". One of us would name a celebrity, and then we would all call out the most random thing we could remember that celebrity appearing in.

Trisha: "George Clooney." Me: "Loved you in the Facts of Life!" You get the premise.

So, as the celebs started to arrive on the red carpet, we continued the game. The longer we played, the more hilarious we found it. (A personal favorite--when Michael Bolton arrived, I screamed "loved you in Ashley Judd.") And then Kevin Nealon arrived... I believe this was the first or second season of Weeds, which had been nominated for an award. Jill, with as much enthusiasm as I've ever seen from her, screamed, "Loved you in National Change Bank!" I laughed so hard, I almost peed myself (a real possibility, since you're in total bleacher lockdown out there and can't go to the restroom). Although apparently we had the name wrong, the skit is below:

Part 3--What Actually Happened.

Good Lord, this is the longest set-up for a stupid story I've ever seen. Anyway, so after the boozy dinner, we were released into the lobby of the Beverly Hilton, only to realize that the celebrities were also roaming around in the lobby, heading to the restroom after the show and wandering between after-parties in the various parts of the hotel. Score! Although there was plenty of security, we were able to stand in designated areas and celeb-stalk to our hearts' content. And, as we had left the ballroom where dinner was held, one of the very nice ladies cleaning up had called out to me. "I noticed you liked the champagne," she said. "Here." She handed me an almost full bottle. "I'm going to have to throw it away. Don't tell anyone where you got it."

So here's me, already a little smashed, with another bottle of Mo (which I cleverly hid in a potted plant to avoid detection), arms length away from very, very famous people. Great idea, right?

I think I mostly maintained my composure as I posed with photos with Jason Lewis, George Clooney, and other celebrities. But as Kevin Nealon walked by, apparently I lost all sense of decorum. As Trisha and Jill convinced him to come over and pose for a photo, I just decided to randomly scream over and over again, "Loved you in National Change Bank! LOVED YOU IN NATIONAL CHANGE BANK!!!!!!!" To which he apparently replied, "That's great, but you don't have to yell."

Part 4--The Aftermath.

I puked all night long and flew home from LA hungover as all fuck. The last 50 pictures on my digital camera from that night were random photos of the potted plant where I hid my champagne, the floor, and this Canadian paparazzo that I apparently tried to sweet-talk into giving me his press pass so I could get into after-parties.

Trisha and the others have never let me live down my moment of infamy with Nealon. It's been a long-running joke that he has a restraining order against me. And every time I get a delivery from Trisha or Jill, it's always from Kevin Nealon.

But Kevin, we'll always have that magical moment. Right?

...yes, I'm staying 500 yards away from you at all times.

And just in case you haters out there need photographic evidence, I present... THE PHOTO.

Sorry for the awful quality--this is an iPhone photo of the actual photo which is in a frame. From left to right, you've got Kathy Hilton (in white), me (screaming), random person, Nealon.

Dear Lord Baby Jesus, it's Wondering Wednesday

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 01:57:00 +0000

If you're new to the blog, Wondering Wednesday is my almost-weekly advice column where I get to live out my childhood dream of being Dear Abby. But able to use the F word. Liberally. If you have a question you'd like the Great Askini to answer, send me an email, a Tweet, or just leave your message in the comments!

Dear Great Askini,

I have a serious case of the Ricky Bobby Disease. I don't know what to do with my hands.

I guess I've been a hands-in-the-pocket girl and not ever realized it. But as I spend more time around people either in dresses (which flatter me much more than jeans) or in running clothes, I don't have the comfort of pant pockets or a sweatshirt kangaroo pouch. I find myself crossing my arms often and I know that is body language that gives off a totally different vibe than what I want to portray.

So, Great Askini, please tell me: What do I do with my hands?

Sincerely,

Arms Crossed (but not because I don't like you)

Dear Ricky Booby,

As I pondered this question, I realized that I, too, might have a problem with my hands. Actually, since I received your email, I've been totally self-conscious about it. Thanks a lot, asshat!

Just kidding. I do like the comfort and ease of having my hands in my pockets. On weekends, when I'm in jeans and sweatshirts (most often with a kangaroo pouch... can y'all believe I used to want to be a fashion blogger? BWAHAHAHAHAHA), you will probably find my hands in my pockets most of the time. But during the week, I typically wear the pocketless dress pants. I do a lot of talking with my hands, so I think that my hands are often in action. If I'm listening or just standing, I tend to clasp my hands behind my back in a little bit of a glee-club-singer-nervously-approaching-the-microphone stance. Is that weird?

Shit! I'm seriously paranoid about this now. How can I advise you what to do with your hands when I have legitimately never thought about this before?!

Wait--so here's your answer. I've legitimately never thought about this before. Which means that I don't notice it in other people either, unless they're doing something way weird like obsessively stroking their own hair or popping their knuckles obnoxiously or something. I can't think of a single person I know that I think, "wow, they do something really weird with their hands when they stand." Do you notice it in other people? (You probably do, now, because you're thinking about it.)

My advice to you, then, is: if it bothers you to stand with your arms crossed, make a note of it every time you do it and correct it. Put your hands to your side, or behind your back, and move on. Then stop thinking about it. Eventually it will become a habit. Ask your friends or co-workers that you trust--does this make me look weird? And then believe them.

What do you guys do with your hands? Seriously, now I'm going to be obsessed with this. Remind me of this when I register whatIdowithmyhands.com.

Do-over

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 04:13:00 +0000

I rang in the New Year with tears in my eyes, a cigarette in my hand, looking up at the stars on my friend's back porch. Much like Clark Kent morphs into Superman, the Great Askini too often becomes the Sad Drunk Askini in social events when I have too much to drink and too much on my mind.

My word for 2012 is "rebirth." What I forget is that birth is HARD. Imagine what it must be like to be comfortable, warm, in the only place you've ever known, only to find without any warning that your watery home is draining away, you're being squeezed into places you didn't know existed, and your lifeline is cut by some dude they call your "dad" before you even had a chance to get control. Rebirth is scary. But it's necessary. If you lived in the womb forever, you'd never get to experience life.

I went to the gym today. It was the first time I've done anything physically active in God knows how long. I felt that cigarette every time my breathing deepened, and I pounded away the regret for that and every other sin while listening to the squeak of shoes against a basketball court. There was one other guy on the small indoor track. He was walking slowly, and I was passing him frequently (no small feat as I am slow as shit), and then I noticed him bent over in a corner. Oh God, I thought, he's dying and I don't know what to do. Then I saw that he wasn't dying at all, but taking off his shoes, and then burst forth in a quick jog in just his socks. Assumptions are a bitch, I thought, as he passed me over and over again.

I spent the rest of the day cleaning out the fridge, organizing my daughter's playroom (for some inane reason--it'll be a mess again tomorrow), and practicing my patience and my compassion. Things I have control over. It felt good to get things right. Maybe I should have chosen "orderly" for my 2012 word. I could have knocked that shit out of the park today.

2012 is going to give birth to something amazing. I don't know what it is, and I can't pretend that I don't care, but I have faith. I believe in this life I'm trying to craft for myself. I believe.

Because this mommy wants vodka too....

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 15:53:00 +0000

Today, rather than wax poetic over 2011 and the year to come, I'm copying Aunt Becky's year-end meme. Because I'm a big fat copier.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?
Start a business.
Complete a half-marathon.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Last year's New Year's resolution was to practice acceptance, and I think that I did that. And if I did not, I accept that. (See? See how fucking good I am?!) In 2012, my focus is rebirth. As C gets older and more independent, I intend to re-learn who I am.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Several friends, most notably Knocked Up Katie, who had a beautiful and healthy baby boy (two weeks early) on December 29.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
My husband's grandmother. My beloved cat. I think that's enough.

5. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
A tattoo. I'm serious, y'all. Help me pick one out.

6. What countries did you visit?
The United States of America. Hopefully in 2012 that will change.

7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why:
August 4, 2011. I celebrated my 10th wedding anniversary with the hus. Ten years is a long time, you guys.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Make it to December 31 without losing my ever-loving mind.

9. What was your biggest failure?
I didn't ride my favorite bike ride this year due to a flare-up of the chronic (see #10). Total bummer.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Yes, I shattered a wine glass while out with my rowdy friends and have a permanent scar on my pinky. Plus, you know, the chronic.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Tickets to "The Mountaintop" on Broadway.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
???? What a weird question.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Kim Kardashian. That douchebaggy Nascar driver on Twitter who made fun of breastfeeding moms.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Same as always... beyond the fixed costs (mortgage, car payment, student loans), dining out. I do love it when other people cook for me.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going to New York in September.

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?
"Ni**as in Paris", from Watch the Throne

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder?
happier, thanks to better living through chemistry

ii. thinner or fatter?
thinner (again, thanks, change in medication!)

iii. richer or poorer?
richer (see: starting own business)

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Exercise.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Worry.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Since Christmas is over, I'll be spending New Years with my husband and my aforementioned rowdy friends. Hopefully no injuries, however.

21. Did you fall in love in 2011?
Yes, every day, with my daughter.

22. How many one-night stands?
Oh, Internet meme. You assume I'm that kind of girl.

23. What was your favorite TV program?
Community or Modern Family.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Nope. There's only one person I hate, and he's in my past, and I still hate him just as much as I ever have.

25. What was the best book you read?
The Hunger Games trilogy.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Florence + the Machine, Childish Gambino, Spotify.

27. What did you want and get?
A Keurig. AKA the love of my life.

28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Shit, I don't even know if I saw a movie this year. Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows, part 2? Was that this year? Oh, and I saw Bridesmaids. Was that this year?

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I was 32 this year, and I honestly don't remember what I did. BECAUSE GETTING OLD SUCKS.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
365 nights with 8 hours of restful sleep.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
Same as always... "which of these pants do I fit into today?"

32. What kept you sane?
My friends. The Interwebs.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Donald Glover.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
I'm not a super-political person. I have some strong feelings about the Occupy Wall Street movement--in some ways I think it's the right thing, but in other ways, I feel like they're alienating people by doing it the way that they are.

35. Who did you miss?
My cat. My two best friends who live in other states.

36. Who was the best new person you met?
Emily. Krissie. Kristina. Rachel. Thom. And Lydia... twice.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:
If you don't speak up for yourself, you can't expect someone else to do it for you.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"And if I shed a tear, I won't cage it, I won't fear love, and if I feel a rage, I won't deny it."--Sarah McLachlan

Have a blessed, safe, and amazing New Year's Eve. If you choose to follow along with this meme... leave a link in the comments!

Book Club Review--The Magic Room

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 04:00:00 +0000

As part of the BlogHer Book Club, I was selected to read The Magic Room by Jeffrey Zaslow. I knew I had heard of Zaslow somewhere, but it took a Google search for me to realize that he is the co-author of the super-well-known book The Last Lecture and also the new memoir of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, GABBY.

The subtitle of The Magic Room is "A Story about the Love We Wish for Our Daughters," and the book focuses on the small town of Fowler, Michigan, and its primary retail store, a family-owned business known as Becker's Bridal. Becker's Bridal has been run by the women of the Becker family since 1934, and approximately half the book details the story of these women, how they grew a multi-generational and successful business, and how their own families have functioned in the face of this business. The other half of the book focuses on the customers of Becker's Bridal--those brides who are in the store, trying on dresses for what will undoubtedly be one of the biggest days of their lives. Zaslow focuses on their individual stories--I was particularly moved by the forty-five-year-old widow and mother of four, remarrying against her children's wishes--and draws you into the reasons each of them is standing before the mirrors of Becker's Bridal, trying on wedding gowns and hoping for the best.

My only real beef with this book is the beef I have with every true story I read... I want to know how it really ends! When these women walk out of the store, dress in hand and dreamy-eyed, I want to know how the wedding went.... where they are today... did it work out the way they wanted? In the acknowledgments of the book, Zaslow says there are more details on his website, MagicRoomBook.com, but I couldn't find them.

Regardless, if you're a sucker for weddings or real-life romances, The Magic Room is a great read. Check out more at the BlogHer website.

Disclaimer: This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club; however, as always, all opinions are strictly my own.

All is bright

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 15:11:00 +0000

Christmas Eve, 5 pm service at church. We have hustled and bustled and spent four hours in the car to get here on time for this event... mostly (okay, totally) prodded by me. Christmas Eve service, in our tradition, is just as important as Easter. It's a beautiful service, and it was one of the things I had really been looking forward to in this blue Christmas season.

During the service, my daughter was a silent whirlwind. She knows well to stay quiet during church, but she was in my arms, then in T's, then on the floor, then in the aisle, then running through pews.

The friend that I had a fight with was in a pew behind us and to the left, with his family. I kept catching glimpses of them in my periphery, or as I chased C through the aisles, and feeling a sharp pang of sadness. Would we ever recover the friendship that meant so much to me just a few weeks ago? Was it destined to be awkward every time I came to church from now on?

As I knelt during the Holy Eucharist, I felt the tears come. I knew they were right there; I just didn't want them to come out in public. But as I listened to the organist play, I suddenly felt hit with everything that had happened in 2011, and I was drowning in feelings of sadness, regret, and fear.

I pulled it together in time for my favorite part of the service... the candlelight singing of "Silent Night" to close. I picked up C to keep her from running too rampant in the semi-darkness, and as the lights went out, she gasped. "Mommy, lights off!" "I know, baby." "Turn them ON, Mommy!" "Shhh... just listen."

The song began, and as I choked back tears with my daughter in my arms, she quickly wiggled away and took off running towards the altar. Of course, I thought. I can't even enjoy this one part of the service. I quietly headed after her, catching her right as she ascended the steps to where our priest was kneeling. "C...LET'S GO BACK TO OUR SEAT," I said in what I hoped was a fierce whisper. She looked at me, stricken. "I need HER." She pointed to our priest. "HER."

I let go of her hand. She climbed the stairs all by herself and then snuggled into our priest's robes and quietly listened to the congregation sing "Silent Night."

I can't tell you that that moment magically healed all these wounds; that I left the building a changed person; that I didn't return to the frenzy of the holidays as soon as I got in the car. I can tell you that for three stanzas of the song "Silent Night" I realized that, no matter what I've gotten very wrong in my life, my daughter is one thing that I've gotten very right.

Sleep in heavenly peace, guys. Sleep in heavenly peace.

B-b-blue Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 01:44:00 +0000

If you hadn't already been able to tell from the past few blog posts, I'm having sort of a b-b-blue Christmas. It shouldn't be, really; it's the first one that C is really excited about, and I am thrilled about the way that my business is taking off and might be able to allow me more time at home once this little full-time stint at work is over in the spring. Tomorrow I'm going to get to see my beloved little brother for the first time since June. I'm getting to spend Christmas Eve in my favorite church, with my husband and my daughter, and wake up in my own bed on Christmas morning to see my little girl's eyes when she sees what Santa has brought her.

But like I said on Sunday, something inside of me feels raw and broken. Just... off. I'm praying that time off from my job, time with my family, time with my friends, and time with me will help heal that little sore spot.

Also? As I sat typing this, my pain-in-the-ass cat just came and plopped herself down in my lap. I've always wanted a cat that would do this, and never had one. She's done this all of two times in my life, both times when I felt desperate and sad. So, there's that. That warms my cold, Grinchy heart.

I'll be away from the computer for several days, doing the family thing, but hope to come back to you with some better news, some more hopeful words, some brighter days ahead.

Mary, Mary, why ya buggin

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 18:41:00 +0000

Today in church we read the Magnificat, followed up by the gospel story from Luke in which Mary is visited by an angel and told that she has a holy bun in her poor, underprivileged, 14-year-old oven. The Magnificat, in case you're not an Anglo-Catholic, is the song that bursts forth from Mary when she speaks of this happening... "My soul doth magnify the Lord!" and whatnot. Today's sermon focused mostly on the joy of the Magnificat. And I totally get why there are people out there who pray to Mary. I mean, if I get that kind of news and am all like, "Yeah, God, I'm down with that, and let me break out a tune," then you should all pray to me too, quite frankly.

But the part of the gospel that we didn't talk about is Luke 1:29. The angel has just appeared to Mary and said, "You have found favor with God." And, then, this:

But she was greatly troubled at the saying.

Greatly troubled. That's the part about Mary I really dig. That shows that she was, in fact, a legitimate human being. (Other translations use "much perplexed" or even "confused", but I prefer "greatly troubled.")

Yesterday, a person I love, respect, and consider one of my closest friends told me that I was a shitty friend. Effectively "broke up" with me. And you know what? I am a shitty friend. Because I'm human. And so is he, and so are we all. The best I can hope for my daughter is that she stays out of jail and off the crack pipe, and fucks up for the right reasons. Because she's most definitely going to fuck up. No amount of parenting kung-fu or magic spells can change that.

This Advent season I feel a little broken open, which means that all the douchebaggy things that we humans do out of our own fucked-up-itude are stabbing me extra deeply. I've lost that outer layer of tough skin. There's so much hate in the world; so much economic disparity; so much loss and grief. I don't see anyone bursting into song to proclaim the greatness of the Lord... actually, I don't see anyone bursting into song, period, except on Glee, and let's be honest, that show sucks.

But today, my Grinch heart was warmed by Mary. If this most holy woman was greatly troubled, then it's okay for me to be too. And maybe, just maybe, my own Magnificat is waiting in the wings, just waiting for the right time when I open my mouth and the notes sound like the angels singing and suddenly I get why all this is the way it is.

A story about my kid

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 23:04:00 +0000

Instead of bitching and moaning about my insane schedule this week and how I haven't even gotten to read my favorite blogs ALL WEEK LONG (oh, the humanity!) and how I feel so freaking behind in life, I will relay this tale, from the drive home from daycare today:

C: Mommy, look at the Cwis-a-mas lights!
Me: I see them! Are you excited for Christmas?
C: Yeah!
Me: What are you most excited about?
C: Cwis-a-mas lights!
Me: (noting that my child has never shown interest in lights before, wondering if it's worth going somewhere to see a big display) Anything else?
C: No....
Me: What do you get at Christmas?
C: CANDY! YAY CWIS-A-MAS!

Now pardon me while I take back all the gifts I got and replace them all with candy.

This child is definitely my daughter.

Twelve in 2012

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 03:27:00 +0000

As you might have seen, I have subscribed to the daily emails for both #reverb11 and #resound11, and am picking and choosing the prompts that I feel called to write about as I reflect on the end of 2011 and the start of 2012.
Today's prompt comes from #reverb11 for today:

What are 12 things your life doesn’t need in 2012? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 12 things change your life? (Props to original Author: Sam Davidson) If you did Reverb10, how are you making out on your 11 Things from last year?

I did Reverb10 last year, and wrote about my eleven things then. I actually feel like I've made significant progress on many of these things in 2011. Some of the others (um, single-size pants?), not so much.

Here are twelve things that my life doesn't need in 2012:

1. Fear.
2. Worry.
3. Any more TV.
4. Any more time on the Internet.
5. A goal to wear a pair of fucking single-size pants.
6. Douchebaggy people.
7. Another flare-up of the chronic.
8. For my frequent flyer miles to expire! I'm getting the itch to travel again in a bad way.
9. Facebook friends who post assholish stuff about the upcoming presidential election. I'm not considering "assholish" as "doesn't like the same candidates I do", but "thinks people who don't think about things like me are dumb or less than." I will unfriend you, and I will not think twice.
10. Another child. I'm not ruling it out forever, but definitely not right now.
11. Pressure to achieve from my own self. People are okay with me; I should be okay with me too.
12. Another hospital stay for me or my family. For the past three years, someone in my family has spent nights in the hospital (having C in 2009, dehydration from a stomach virus in 2010, and C had pneumonia in 2011). I'm hoping that in 2012, we're all hospital-free!

If you have written about this prompt, I'd love to read it. Please leave a link to your blog in the comments!

I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 13:40:00 +0000

As you might have seen, I have subscribed to the daily emails for both #reverb11 and #resound11, and am picking and choosing the prompts that I feel called to write about as I reflect on the end of 2011 and the start of 2012.

Today I am (sort of) using the #reverb11 prompt from December 5, 2011:

What are your five guilty pleasures?

This one is hard for me because I don't actually feel guilty about very many of my pleasures. Maybe I should? Nonetheless, I will list the five things for which I think people might judge me harshly.

1. Interweb addiction. I spend so much time on social media and blogs, it's probably a problem. As an introvert who has to function in an extremely extroverted way at work, getting to connect with friends via the comfort and privacy of my own home is the perfect solution.

2. Trashy TV. I don't watch as much of this as I used to, not because I feel badly about it, but because I just don't have enough time. I do still watch "Tough Love" (because Steve Ward is awesome) and a few reality competition shows ("Survivor", "Top Chef", "Project Runway"). And of course, I will most likely be watching "American Idol" when it comes back. Hey, not everything can make me think.

3. Caffeine. I have become much more dependent on caffeine since C was born. I used to drink a cup of coffee a day and maybe a diet Coke or two. Now, I probably have three or four cups of coffee a day plus two or three sodas. I recognize this is a problem, but when I've got something that has to get done and I'm nodding off into my pile of paperwork, a chick's gotta do what she's gotta do.

4. Games on my iPhone. At various times this year, I've gone through obsessions with Words with Friends, Plants vs. Zombies, and Godfinger.

5. Okay, this one I actually do feel guilty about. I have been known to occasionally smoke a cigarette. Something about the act of it is very relaxing and calming to me. I don't know why. I don't do it very often and I don't want to ever start smoking regularly, but it makes me feel better to have some in my car or purse, just in case.

Note that I conspicuously do not include my collection of Britney Spears music, because no one should ever, ever feel bad about loving Brit-Brit.

Anyone want to share their guilty pleasures?

Photo of the Year

noreply@blogger.com (The Great Askini) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 14:19:00 +0000

Some honorable mentions:

All photos taken with Hipstamatic for iPhone.