One of my new favorite websites is Lifehacker. 

I thought this post about free tools to help New Year’s resolutions was pretty cool, especially the link to a productivity strategy utilized by Jerry Seinfeld to encourage a regular writing practice.  Creativity might not need productivity goals, but people often do...if their creativity is ever going to become more than a side hobby.  Some people are innately gifted at self-discipline.  For people like me, an odd mix of perfectionism and procrastination, I need a bit of help along the way.

Chipping away at all those things which I’ve been neglecting for too long.  You know, those things which make falling asleep nearly impossible.

I’m going to try three things per day.  The key is that these MUST be items that have been niggling in the back of my brain for a long time.

Here is my list for today:

1.  15 minutes of cleaning up the floor by the side of my bed.
2.  Call to change primary care (doc moving to a new town...darn it).  [Edited to note: I called, but the office was closed today.]
3.  Wiping down the back of the master bathroom toilet.  Ewww…

All right, I have an hour and 20 minutes left in 2007.  I’m going to start the year off feeling as if I did something productive.

The baby in it was so adorable, I wanted to run outside the theater and find the nearest ovulating woman and get crackin’!

He looks like such a bad boy, but every time his bangs flopped over his eyes, I just wanted to reach out and tuck them behind his ear. 

Meryl Streep and Diane Keaton.  Need I say more?

The period costumes were amazingly detailed, and I couldn’t get over Firth’s accent.  Talk about swoon!

No, nothing blew up, and you don’t see any cleavage, either.  But you won’t mind, because the plot was so textured and deep that it would have just been superfluous.

The whole movie takes place over the course of dinner, and the protagonists use their meal as a metaphor for their 40-year marriage.

It’s just like Steel Magnolias, but set in 1922 Nova Scotia. 

I guess since they never came out with The Notebook 2, this could fill the void.

I cried and cried when the son was killed on the battlefield, the day before he was set to return home, but it was a GOOD cry, you know? 

Dude, best movie EVER!  But, here, you’ll need a few Kleenex.  Trust me.

Then, about halfway through, the director put in a scene with a mother and daughter embroidering items for the girls’ trousseau.  They don’t speak a word for 17 minutes, but every single stitch was heavy with all the things they weren’t able to say...questions about sexual desire, oppression, the loss of independence, and it was all said with the way each stitch broke through the fabric, so white and crisp.  It totally represented the loss of innocence, man.  Coming of age in a patriarchy, and I had to blow my nose in the napkin.

The doctor keeps her secret over the course of 3 decades, and only on the husband’s deathbed, does the physician declare his unrequited love for her.  I mean, UNREQUITED LOVE?!  Score!

It’s not quite The Godfather, but I found it such a relief to watch a movie that had such an utter lack of action.  I mean, if you’ve seen one helicopter blow up the Golden Gate Bridge, you’ve seen them all.  The character study of the administrative assistant’s unfulfilled dreams was much more intense, actually.

About 18 months ago, I decided that I needed to stop drinking cola.  Coca-Cola is my biggest vice, and I know there are a multitude of reasons why it is something I need to leave in my youth.  Bone loss.  Tooth decay.  Weight gain.  Diabetes risk.  High fructose corn syrup.  Risk of ebola.

So I threw in a bargain for my son, who when tired, would move this thumb ever so discreetly toward his mouth.  I’d quit drinking cola, except when at a restaurant, if he quit sucking his thumb.

It lasted until a particularly rough patch at work last spring.  I fell off the wagon, and occasionally Matt goes on a nagging streak.

As I have stated, I am not Al Gore’s ideal citizen as far as greenification, but I am starting to consider a wide range of ways to be good to the environment and good to our health. 

Malcolm Gladwell wrote about the Tipping Point, and I’m starting to reach my personal tipping point as far as returning to my hippie county roots.

For those of you NOT in California, although my parents are most certainly not counterculture icons, I grew up in a very hippie part of California.  Hence, the time last summer while visiting home that I accidentally brought Matthew into a marijuana pipe store.  (We’d been strolling on the plaza of downtown Arcata, looking at art and handcrafted items when I saw a sign advertising a glassblower’s shop.  Thinking I was exposing my son to more culture—though not the DRUG kind—I missed the sign on the door that all entrants must be 18 or older.  You have never seen a mother move her child more nonchalantly in one door and out another...in record time.)

Anyhoo, a wedding gift ten years ago from my old children’s choir director and flute teacher included a salad bowl from a tres Humboldt County company, Fire & Light.  They were crafting beautiful glassware out of recycled material, and the company has since taken off like a rocket.  They’re carried all over the place now, and it seems that each month, one of my magazine features their beautiful work. 

It feels good to support a “local” business, though I’m sure if I were really eco-reformed, I would give my mom an order and have her bring it down with her on a future visit, so I don’t have to count all the fossil fuels being burned on transport to the store in town which carries it.  But I’m contemplating moving to glass only cups in the house, the more I read about plastics.  Fire & Light, however, is not cheap, and thus I may be purchasing one glass a month.  It is pretty cool to think the beautiful glasses were a product of my lovable rural kingdom of idealism.  That they are beautiful doesn’t suck, either.

In the meantime, I can enjoy the salad bowl and relatively new serving bowl, each a tribute to creative thinking and people who enjoy the pretty.

You run into an acquaintance at the little Mexican joint down the street.  The type you know you know, but don’t know HOW or what his name is…

You say hello.  He brings up their trip to SoCal.  You ask about their holiday.  He tells you a cute anecdote about their eight-year-old’s fervent belief that Santa can read minds.  You speak briefly about the trip to Pt. Reyes and the low snowfall not far from town.

Then you pay, say goodbye, and each head out, en route to the cars in a dark parking lot.  Except.

Except you’re following him.  Four feet behind.  To a remote corner of the lot.

You’ve said goodbye.  You’re not really friends, and you’ve exhausted all casual chit chat.  Say much more and you’ll reveal you have no clue the man really is.  And now, in silence, you are walking just a few paces behind him.

No, that’s not awkward at all.

Parenting and living Green (with a capital G) are not an easy combination.  I happen to adore items that come packaged in single servings.  Plastic containers, no less.  Mandarin oranges are more likely to be consumed when available with the simple peeling of plastic. 

What, you say?  Aren’t mandarin oranges easy to peel right off the tree?  Sigh.  Such is my paradigm shift, coming from the age of TV dinners and microwave meals.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best example.  But I’m a big fan of Ziploc bags and Gladware for life on the go, and hubby much prefers baby carrots in individually portioned bags.

I’m still learning to compromise, but I will say I have been enjoying a few “green” cleaning products. 

The first is Seventh Generation’s Tub and Tile Cleaner.  However, it is best purchased directly from a store and not on-line as there are many reported issues with leaking in transit.  No, not anal leakage.  But leakage is a pain nonetheless.

And in the interest of mild cleansing, Dr. Bronner’s Sal Suds.  It claims to do almost anything, which is fine by me.  I just like knowing it’s a lot less caustic than the other home cleaners I have used in the past.  But I save Seventh Generation for the Soap Scum. 

I’m still a little overwhelmed by the chemical scent of Kaboom! products, but I must say it’s dramatically effective.  And you know how I like drama.  Between that and vinegar, they are the only two things that keep our house from becoming one giant hard water mineral sculpture.  They also are free of ammonia, harsh acids, and phosphates.  On the sites, they claim not to have fumes, but I must say I won’t be using it as a body spritzer any day soon.

It is also important to mention Bon Ami as a non-abrasive green cleaner, but my husband would pick Comet any day of the week over it.  Which is why our last kitchen sink was starting to look a little shabby. 

Now I just need to figure out how to remember to bring my cloth grocery bags with me when I am going to the store. 

In my decade of teaching, I have learned a few things:

Make it perfectly clear to your students that if they ever feel sick to their stomach, they have your permission to exit the room as rapidly as possible, without your permission.  It has never been a privilege they abused, but I know too many teachers who have fallen victim to the statement, “Mrs. So-and-So, I don’t feel so—BLUUURRRRRRRFFFF!” All down the front of their outfit.  At the very least, shoes.

Along that line, there is no shame in asking your student who complains of a stomachache, “Are you hungry?  Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Eight times out of ten, they need to go poop, but don’t quite know how to express that.  Of course, this is meant more for primary teachers.  If you teach junior college, I suggest you refrain from feeling their foreheads and asking if they had breakfast this morning.

Don’t be surprised when you learn about mom and dad’s special toy drawer or Grandma’s alcoholism.  Every teacher I know dreads Red Ribbon Week with primary students because someone is SURE to raise a hand and volunteer more information than necessary.  Of course, it’s also nice to have a third grader tell you that you are ineligible to sign a “Proud to Be Drug-Free” banner with everyone else because, “Haven’t you had a beer at SOME point in your life?” Also, kindergarteners participating in penny drives may find a ziploc baggie in mom’s sock drawer with flecks that look remarkably like oregano to bring in their donations.  Ask cautiously when you are trying to determine if mom KNOWS the baggie is missing.

If a mouse is seen in your room, students will spend the next four days plotting ways to catch it.

If you ate something gas-producing, you will be very occupied during the next few hours trying to ensure you don’t go down in their personal history as, “The teacher who farted when she bent over to press ‘pause’ on the VCR,” like one or two of my colleagues.  Not me, no sir.  I could share my cover-up tips, but I’ll save that for another day.

The same parent that complains at the parent-teacher meeting about unhealthy bake sale items is the one who sends in a Lunchable the next day. 

I’m not sure why cynicism beats out hope when it comes to a collective time for people wanting to improve their lives. 

Yes, some may say it’s an arbitrary date.  They’re right.  But there are lots of arbitrary dates, and the start of a new year feels nice.  You could also do it on your birthday, but the first is a day when other people are also pausing to say, “This year...this year might be different.”

Gyms count on the resolution bringing them new members who will stop coming in February but still pay fees all year long.  So what?  There are those who stick it out, and they should be celebrated. 

So I will do it again.  Find some way to write my resolutions, the ones which are remarkably similar to ones from years past.  And perhaps I’m doomed to failure.  Another blow to the self-esteem?  No, because this year I’m only going to post resolutions which are guaranteed to come true.  The heartfelt ones shall remain private.

Here are my Guaranteed-to-Succeed Resolutions for 2008:

I will buy more fresh fruits and vegetables than are actually consumed in a given week, thereby creating my own antibiotic stash and compost bin all in the crisper drawer of my fridge.  Greener living through laziness.

I will buy at least one birthday card and not send it, simply for lack of a stamp.  After too much time has passed for it to be reasonably sent, I shall tuck it into a basket “for next year”, though I’m likely to forget I have it, thus creating a beautiful cycle of good intention—slacking—good intention. 

I will miss several field trips, thereby ensuring I do not get caught up in the parental politics of my son’s school.  Whenever I feel guilty about not being there enough, I can comfort myself with the thought that I am not polluting the world with more petty gossip.

I will no longer use the phrase, “When things settle down...”, having finally accepted that things never truly settle down.  They just morph into NEW activities and responsibilities.

I will realize that half my stress comes from not making time for exercise.  Which will then stress me out.  On at least one occasion, this will result in me sitting in front of the television, declaring “I am so tired...I don’t have the time or the energy.” Someone will then point out that exercise will give me energy.  I resolve to respond, “Pass me that bowl of Double-Stuf Oreos.”

I will carry a stain-removing marker with me at all times, since I acknowledge that my ability to spill beverages is probably my superpower.  Someday, I will find a way to harness it for the good of all womankind.

Do you have any resolutions you know you can keep?

I now have a slightly warped holiday song stuck in my head, thanks to a UCSF researcher who just sent me an e-mail about the medical study my daughter is being screened for…

He signed his e-mail with a festive “Happy holigays!”

And now I can’t get the tune out of my head.

Until we meet again…