December 2015 Archive

I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions. What a waste of time! Where did the concept of New Year’s resolutions spring from? This archaic tradition is totally counterproductive given our perverse and fallen human nature. And a waste of effort. We all know that no matter how infrequently we attend church that Jesus loves us and He loves us regardless of what weight we tip the scales at.

He loves us even if we have a tendency to brood or Rage Quit at large family gatherings.

Furthermore, Jesus can’t see your bad habits for the light that shines from you, even on the occasions¬†you’re side eying bad mannered soccer Moms at the annual Nordstrom sales; whilst simultaneously¬†seeking to get the advantage and surreptitiously stepping on the feet of their ill mannered brats with the stiletto heel of your Jimmy Choos from last year’s sales.

The light that still shines forth whilst Soccer Nan cops a blow to the elbow from your Valentino handbag. Another Ghost from Christmas Past. The handbag that is, not Nan who’s corporeality you have no reason to doubt as she just got physical by kicking your ankles with her Cole Haan riding boots,whilst the eight year old daughter pulls a bait and switch by pretending to choke or vomit, (who cares), before¬†circling around everyone’s concern to snatch the last coveted, discounted Burberry diaper bag. And then the insufferable¬†bairn has the nerve to wink at you. The apple doesn’t fall far from that poorly botoxed tree given the smug look of triumph on Soccer Mom’s face. ¬†Only 365 days to the next post Christmas Consumption fest, folks.

Comfortingly, we all know that even if Jesus isn’t partial; God loves fools and drunks. It’s hard to figure out whether the Father or the Son got the hospital pass. ¬†Jesus gets haters; God the inebriates and politicians.

I think that about covers all bases.

Useless New Year’s Resolutions:

Give up: <Insert here>There is nothing like swearing off something to make you want it right that minute. Or if you get rid of said substance it will manifest itself elsewhere. You have to have a game plan to live well or the fear of the proverbial in you and/or the fear of sitting through another well meaning but tasteless intervention. Cold turkey works the best but be aware you may be in for addiction Whack-a-mole. Or balance your bad habits to cancel them out. Like opposite phase sine waves. Trust me.

Behave better: be a better <Mom, daughter, friend, coworker>, or stop < said bad behaviour> ie biting nails or sneaking an illicit cig, drink, cease compulsive peanut butter cup consumption or other late night self-sabotaging binge. Again. Requires more will power than you or I will ever have to be a better human.

Cease Lusting¬†<after other people; coveting their possessions or whatevs> entirely. Besides which it’s flattering for the recipient getting the glad eye after a certain age. Women from the age of 35 before which it’s merely unnerving and Men from the age of 80 before which they’re confident it’s given they’re young and hot stuff and assume everyones’s perving at them. Sean Connery has a lot to answer for, for this phenomenon.

Flirt but don’t get physical. As a rule it is creepy copping a feel in many circumstances. Not all. It depends on the coppee’s temperament and how long you have known them. Going in for a chest press after the obligatory ¬†handshake cheek kiss is acceptable. Whether it’s the boobs or pecs you admire go for it.

Human touch generates the feel good hormone oxytocin. This is hormone that plays a strong role in social bonding and is responsible for women breastfeeding their babies until they go to school.

And how badly are we behaving really?

If you can get out of bed in the mornings, are kind to fellow humans and hold down a job and or raise a family and follow the path your previous self chose, you’re probably doing okay. Instead of making self defeating resolutions I choose to look at what has been revealed to me about my life over the previous calendar year. New Year’s Revelations.

Enlightened Housewife.  Ladling out the advice and speaking my mind since 2012. When I emigrated to America and had to fit in.  Before that I was a pussy.

Enlightened Housewife.
Ladling out the advice and speaking my mind since 2012. When I emigrated to America and had to fit in.
Before that I was a pussy.

 

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In my experience, any Enlightened Housewife doesn’t post if she plain has too many children. I have five. That’s either one to five too many depending on your outlook on life or the stage of Motherhood you are at. Also it doesn’t help if you love them dearly and couldn’t do without them.¬†Don’t worry! I found my way into this situation by a combination of choice and accident and one day I’ll find my way out again! They’ll all be at school eventually. I find this hard to believe but am comforted that there are laws in place to ensure this is a likelihood.

Anyhoo. the lamest way you can start a blog post, is, “sooo.. folks it’s been a while.” Actually I’ll just default start my posts this way henceforth. Life seems to quite often get in the way of writing. And one trouble is with the writing is that once you’ve garnered an audience, no matter how microcosmal ( I made that word up, (definition to follow) ¬†is that you owe your readers an explanation. No matter how corny and mealy mouthed this explanation sounds. I use the following analogy: ¬†Imagine you catch a tour bus. You’ve made a choice to go on a journey and it may be thrilling or it may be lame but it will always have a beginning, a middle and a return to real life, or an end.

And then wouldn’t it be puzzling and annoying if the bus-driver stopped at a non-scheduled destination, announced a pee stop and then stood there chain smoking until the passengers realized the driver wasn’t going to go anywhere for a while, if not months. After a few minutes of one’s life thinking “WTF?” you and all the other passengers realize: A. the journey is over for now and B. there is a nice cosy pub within walking distance and the combo of music and Irish stew makes for a compelling destination.

So, blogging is like a bus journey but it never ends. And I last posted in July and then I lamely never came back to it. Analogy ended.

Something that irks me about the writing business is all the young smart arse writers who become a resounding success but never take the readers on the journey to publication and resounding success. Take my fellow Kiwi Eleanor Catton. Instead of plugging away at the biz for twenty years or so and gradually making a name for herself, she ups and writes a book in one day set in Nowhere’s-ville New Zealand (not part of Australia BTW). And she wins the 2013 Man ¬†Booker Prize. ¬†Who does that?

Oh she’s a Millennial. That explains it. They get it in the right order. Success then Brats.

I haven’t read Catton’s book yet. Reading ‘The Luminaries’ is a decision not to take lightly. By virtue of it’s very size it falls into a category of book called ‘Door-stoppers’. Perfect for holding the door fast or throwing at a drunk uncle on Christmas Day. However you actually have to have time or be pushed into it by the fates to embark on the journey of reading an¬†epistle of biblical proportions. Or the wont to make a bargain with it’s placement on your reading list. As in. “I’ll read ‘The Luminaries’, when author Eleanor Catton starts sporting a pastel jumpsuit or a bad perm.”

I doubt that will happen soon folks. She looks fairly serious. Maybe a tattoo.

Eleanor Catton

Eleanor Catton

Thankfully Thanksgiving is over. It was wonderful. A houseful of guests and tradition. Menu to follow.

The day after Thanksgiving I got a much needed break from my household. I call our house and surrounds, ‘The Compound’. I have it similar to Shelly Miscavige the Scientology wife who was swapped out of the public eye to “a small compound above LA”:

Shelly Miscavige

Shelly and I have totally so much in common. Not the least being that we haven’t been seen in the public eye since 2005. That coincides with when my oldest son was a year old. It’s time to get with the program so gleefully, albeit not without reservation I took the four hour hop (United Airlines) to go ahead two hours in time and back centuries to atmospheric New Orleans.

In the interests of preventing a re-occurrence of scurvy in the household I must stop here and attend to the nutritional needs of the household. I will leave you with this:

Defn: Microcosmal: As in, Small but important. Origination: When one son spotted another son going about his day without pants on and gleefully yelled out : “Your penis is so microcosmal”!

 

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