Old Year, New Year – Old Me, New Me

As we come to the end of my self-induced sabbatical, I’ve had time to reflect. I’d love to say I’ve had time to read -but that’s been hit-or-miss. What I’ve actually filled my days with are the following:

  • Stumbling ‘twixt bed and bathroom, mumbling incoherent threats to the piles I stumble around.
  • Thinking of a great story idea during 2 a.m. feeding, only to lament my motivation to write it during 3 a.m. still-awake-and-burping and curse my lack of hands during 4 a.m. walking-the-still-fussing-child.
  • Candy Crush. A lot of Candy Crush.
  • Catching the odd post from a friend about The New Year and a Word for the Year, determining to write my own, and ending up with ideas like ‘Sleep’ or ‘Chocolate.’
  • Becoming horribly depressed when I don’t sleep, then wondering what that was all about when I do.
  • Simultaneously resolving change to better my situation, and resolving sadness and sugar at the pointlessness of my situation.

But recovery is going well, for both of us. The baby is probably up a pound or two from birth weight. He’s a serious child who has not yet mastered his neck muscles or his roving vision. People tell me this is normal, and I’ve nicknamed the situation ‘crazy turtle eyes.’

I’m down a pound or two from birth weight. I’m a serious mother who has not yet mastered my abdominal muscles or roving parenting. People tell me this is normal as well, and I’ve nicknamed my situation ‘hunchbacked snail.’

In the between-times of cursing laundry and children, I notice my ageing body and failing memory more. “I’m old, Peter -ever so much more than twenty.” “I feel [fat], sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.” …which is better than during the pregnancy, at the end of which I kept thinking, “No, Sam. I can’t recall the taste of food… nor the sound of water… nor the touch of grass.”

Clearly, when tired, I revert to movie quotes. I think my children are accustomed to the habit. If not, I at least make for a confusing conversational partner.

I’m not in the habit of declaring resolutions at the start. I’m the sort to resolve and break and depress cyclically throughout the year. I do know I’ve a few things I wish to accomplish overall:

  • Lose at least 20 pounds. Ideally, 40.
  • Figure out this hating homelife thing.
  • Read a book on parenting.
  • Read a book a month. Realistically, read a book a year.
  • Go to Europe.
  • Pay for the baby, the water heater, the Europe, the boys’ savings accounts, and our house-painting plans. This may involve robbing a bank, or blackmailing the boys’ orthodontist.
  • Finish my children’s picture book idea with my friend.

If you made it this far, I love you. (“Welcome to Costco. I love you.”) I would also appreciate if you’d do me a little favor: answer a question.

If you could pick one or two books you’d recommend to anyone, what would they be?

My recommendations come with a caveat and depend on the tastes of the person asking. I need a list, though, and trust the high opinions of those who got this far.

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Gifs courtesy of GIPHY

©2020 Chelsea Owens

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

This week I only had four entries. While this made judging a tiny bit easier, I also felt a touch sad that more people couldn’t fulfill their New Year’s Resolutions of writing more terrible poetry in a formal format.

That’s not to say the decision of who to crown wasn’t difficult. In the end, this one took the prize:

I don’t need no resolutions

by RhScribbles

I don’t need no resolutions
It ain’t in the constitution
What’s up with that
He said, with the hat
On his head
That he said
He would wear until he died
No absolution
Resolve to die?
Uh why?
I don’t wanna
Make restitution
He’s gotta wear a hat on his head
No lie
No revolutions
Just resolutions

Yay, Ruth! You’ve done it again!

Hers and another’s were neck-and-neck for first place. I decided that Ruth’s lack of direction saved the day again. I mean, what is with the hat?

I also love her rhymes that show up when they are supposed to but also when they probably shouldn’t, and her bad meter.

I’m not saying the others didn’t have plenty of awfulness and humor. Here they are, in order of submission:

New Year’s Day Resolutions

by Greygirlieandme

Are made to be broken.
Like my heart, given to you as a token,
when my love was awoken.

Maybe I can lose some weight
If I send it back to you, wrapped in hate.
Then you can serve it on a plate.

There, that’s one kept.

Without my heart I’d be less bitter,
Although I might not be fitter.
And what a post to put on Twitter.

Half and half on that one then.

Maybe I’ll run it round myself,
Leave it on your windowshelf.
Topped by your stupid Christmas elf.

Yep, that’s exercise done.

Perhaps I’ll no longer drink red wine,
There’ll be no need, I’ll be just fine
You made me drink it, your taste not mine.

Hey, another one ticked.

But now here’s one I won’t stick to
I must stop really wanting you.

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Resolutions Derailed

by Molly Stevens

It’s New Year’s Day so what do you say?
Is it time to make a resolution?
Nothing radical. Nothing tragical.
After all it’s not a revolution
Eating more vegetables and fruit
Is now an action for dispute.
Listeria! Hysteria!
E. coli! Holy Moly!

Can I get into shape, wriggle and rock?
Stop pushing snooze on the alarm clock?
How about stashing cash and accruing fortitude
By driving fast past fast food?

But officer, I can explain.
I was merely a passenger
On the self-improvement train.
Choo! Choo! Boo! Hoo!

A ticket for driving at breakneck speed
While I was merely trying not to overfeed?
I’m suing McDonald’s for this misdeed,
And I’ve got a terrific chance to succeed.

Don’t lecture me about eating no fat,
Do you think I’m related to joyless Jack Sprat?
I’m out of time for idle chitchat.
Yes, of course, I want fries with that!

Choo! Choo! Chew! Chew!

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Resolution Sonnet

by Bruce Goodman

The megapixel race
is a disgrace.
Photographs may have been getting clearer
but the megapixel camera phones seem to be getting dearer.
Let’s hope that in 2019 camera resolutions will peak
and we’ll all get cheaper photos, so to speak.
In the meantime I’m going to eat lots of chocolait
while I wait
and hope that my resolve
doesn’t dissolve
like it did last year
when I decided to wear
nothing but outrageous wraps
in order to look gorgeous in high resolution snaps.

Many who entered slipped back into the ‘too pretty’ area of verse. Let go your meter, your patterns, your main topics, and your artistic sensibilities. Then, enter tomorrow for next week’s competition.

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Not Your Average Blogger’s New Year’s Post

Word is there’s an event what’s been going ’round. I can’t but turn a corner and I finds myself smack-dab against words like ‘resolutions’ an’ ‘goals’ an’ ‘exercise.’ I tell ya what: them’s fighting words and I’ll have no truck with ’em.

Accordingly and characteristically, I have been pondering on a different weighty subject: obscure talents.

Everyone has talents. Many have useful talents. Still more have talents that don’t come up in regular conversation because they just might get said ‘talented’ person ostracized.

Take me, for example. One of my many less-mainstream gifts is the ability to bark like a dog. Specifically, I bark similar to a German Shepherd. How do I know which canine I sound like? I learned as a child when our pet was that breed. In case you are not sure why I don’t bring this up often, just think where I would possibly apply it. …yeah… I can’t think of a place, either. Mostly I startle people my children brag to, but that’s not happening as much since my kids are getting embarrassed solely by the fact that I’m alive.

Another talent I have is possessing somewhat apelike toes on my long, narrow feet. I cannot hang by them, unfortunately, but I did practice writing with them when younger. I reasoned that the skill would come in handy when I was captured by government agents bent on imprisoning me because of my X-Men-like abilities.

The third of my most-interesting gifts is ear-wiggling. …Maybe more of ear-shifting. They move, anyway. I literally practiced in front of a mirror as a child to first achieve movement, and have since honed and isolated ear wigglingness whenever I’m bored during a conversation or business meeting.

Last for now is hiccups on-demand. A related and less-ladylike talent is erm… on-demand burping -which is another one that doesn’t come up in polite conversation. I discovered, quite early on and in church, that I could give myself the hiccups if I burped (silently) long enough. I’ve used a hiccuping spell to get out of meetings since, and …to accidentally attract my husband on our first date. The good news is that I am extremely good at ridding myself of them as well.

If ever I meet any of you in person, now, I’ll have to ask you not to mention these. Otherwise, I’ll not have any material for that two truths/one lie party game.

Enough about me anyway. What about you? Surely you have a talent of two up your sleeve? In what unusual area are you an expert?

Fork

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Yay! A really long week to review!
Monday, December 24: Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
Tuesday, December 25: Dude; that was Christmas.
Wednesday, December 26: “Inspirational Plagiarism: a Dialogue.” This may have come about after thinking to myself for two days.
Thursday, December 27: “I Finally Donned the Sorting Hat,” If I were a witch, apparently I’d be a know-it-all.
Friday, December 28: Inspirational quote by Mark Twain that I intentionally mis-quoted in “Inspirational Plagiarism.”
Saturday, December 29: Announced the seventh Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. ENTER IT or I’ll only have three entries to judge from.
Sunday, December 30: “Raw Ramblings.” We’ll call it a free-verse poem.
Monday, December 31: A quote to inspire this new year thingie, by James Agate.
Tuesday, January 1: “Wilhelmina Winters, Seventy-Seven.”
Wednesday, January 2: You made it to today!

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Happy Christmas to you all and welcome back to our Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest! For those of you keeping track, this here’s #7.

New to the game? Don’t know the definition of terrible? I’ve got your back over at How To Write Terrible Poetry. Review it, read these rules, then enter:

  1. The topic is Resolutions. Maybe you’ve made some and can rap about it.
  2. For word limit, let’s keep it under 200 words and over 3.
  3. You don’t need to rhyme, but may if you’re so induced.
  4. Please, please, please make it terrible. I want everyone reading to make a New Year’s Resolution to never read terrible poetry again -till the following week.
  5. Keep it clean; like PG-ish.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (January 4, 2019) to submit.

I’m trying out this new-fangled submission form. Or, you can always leave your entry or a link to it in the comments.

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