Peck Peck Peck

I know, all you 3 of my readers, one-third of which will be married to me in six months, are thinking: what's with the lack of blog?

Or, not. I'll tell you anyway though. The freaking holidays are what's with the lack of blog. I've never actually seen that movie The Birds but my understanding is that at the end she is pecked to death by birds. This is a good metaphor for the way my life feels right now. I am being slowly pecked to death by various aspects of life. Work? Suddenly busy. Home? Suddenly dirty and needing cleaning and vacuuming. Holidays? Suddenly needing insane attention in the form of cooking for others, tree decorating, traditions needing tradition-ing and various other fun but time consuming items. To top it off my 3rd grade Sunday school class is not only in the Christmas pageant but they are the pageant. As in, no other teacher has a student in this pageant. Since I am the only adult in the community who seems able to put the fear of God in even the worst behaved in the class, I have to attend all their rehearsals. They're cute and some of them are good kids but some of them need straight jackets.

Right, I know, stop complaining. Traditions that you like need attention? Can you not enjoy yourself? Apparently not. Really. I come from a long line of women who stress about parties (for stupid reasons I wont even list), cooking (see: hot jail) and general life needs. The older I get the less capable of having fun I become.

This issue has a lot of implications. Obviously stress is not good for you. That Friends episode with the alterna-world where Pheobe is an attorney and has a heart attack from all the stress clearly taught me that if I get stressed I will not only have a heart attack but probably also take up chain smoking and yelling. Beyond the general effects of stress is that nutrition and health go out the window.

I have two solutions to the problem.

1) I am making a conscious effort not to react to things that don't matter. I am also committing myself to my inside voice. I'm rather enjoying being asked to speak up lately. When a coworker and I disagreed on if this stuff on the wall of the office hallway was spackle or primer the old me would have put my foot down and explained why, duh, it is clearly primer (it has since become clear that it is spackle) but the new me does not care. Cause really? Don't care. Not worth it.

I am apparently so overly relaxed that my father asked if I was okay this weekend. When I told him my new habit he warned me not to seem too relaxed or people might think I'm stoned. It's good to know I live in a world where the choices are spackle/primer-caring-screamer or stoned.

Let me be clear, this is not to say I'm becoming a door mat. Being from a strong combination of rowdy Greeks and equally-though-differently rowdy Southern women, I don't have it in me to become a push over. I'm just choosing my battles extra carefully.

2) I am making a conscious effort to only eat when hungry. This even applies to parties where there is a spread of amazing cheese or cheesy food or food that can have cheese on top with a side of dairy. These are the situations that always get me. I am at a party and have intelligently arrived hungry but not starved. I am planning to have some casual snacks without over doing it. Then there is the dairy bonanza and I convince myself the treats are a one time thing and totally worth it.

I have never, ever, not once, nope, not a single time walked away glad I over indulged. Snacks will exist again in life, these particular snacks might look good but they aren't going to change my life even though that random friend of that friend thinks that particular cheese is so tasty and amazing. They are never life changing. Maybe tasty, but never life changing.

It's two weeks until real resolution time and I've decided these are not those types of resolutions. Those are the kind that are broken before Valentine's Day. These two are the kind that bring down two numbers in particular: blood pressure and waist to hip ratio. Ask me on Valentine's Day if I've forgotten my inside voice.