Things I Want To Be Awesome At

I've started a mental list in my head of things I want to be awesome at, as the title of the this post suggests. My husband and I have started talking about kids and, for some reason, the thought no longer scares me. I guess I am starting to feel like an adult...most of the time. But, for some reason, I have this '50s housewife stereotype stuck in my head of things I want to be able to do before having kids. And, I know this image is kind of outdated, but I still can't escape it. So, instead of trying to rebel against it, I've decided to embrace it, and try my hardest to at least get the basics down I feel I would need to accomplish the stereotype.

I want to be able to sew a dress without a pattern

This, of course, would probably require I go out and buy a basic pattern and some fabric first, right? Yeah...I guess so. But I have this image that one day, I'll be at work and my husband will call and tell me we're having company over for hors d'oeuvres and brandy and I'll tell him I have nothing to wear. So, I picture myself stopping at JoAnn fabric on the way home and, as my mini-quiches and tartlets are cooking, I'll whip up a snazzy, casual little dress. This scenario may never play out in my life. ...but there's always the small hope it would. And, somehow, I picture Mr. and Mrs. Tate coming over later, exclaiming how lovely my house is and that my husband sure came through on that advertising deal. If only I could learn to wiggle my nose, I'd be all set for this scenario.

I want to be able to pull off red lipstick

I feel like red lipstick ages, but not in a good way. It's like, if you can pull of red lip stick, you're old enough to wear it. If you're not old enough to wear it, no matter how perfect it may be applied, you still look like you've gone and played in your mother's makeup bag again. I get away with the occasional red gloss for some pop. And, luckily, it usually wears off after a few hours. But I tried the red lipstick look once for my friend's wedding. And I felt like I was so close to pulling it off. But I still didn't feel right about it. Maybe because it's not an every day look for me...but one day, I will be able to pull of red lipstick.

I want to be able to set the perfect table

I was at a friend's wedding shower a few weeks ago and I noticed the catering staff's way of pulling a tablecloth askew on half of the table and laying out the food just so, as if it were being photographed for a spread in some upscale magazine I would never buy, but secretly skim at a book store. Personally, I don't think the tiny twinges of OCD would tolerate half my dining room table covered with a table cloth that looked like it could fall off at any moment. I would most likely adjust it until it lay perfectly balanced. But I did decide I would start looking at table cloths in general, just so I don't end up having to explain the white heat marks I made (somewhat) better this weekend.

I want to be able to grow and maintain flowers

I'm getting there! I actually planted Forget-Me-Nots a few months ago in my window boxed on my front porch that have actually sprouted. I figure in a few weeks, they will look somewhat decent, although I didn't know Forget-Me-Nots grew so exceptionally tall...they kind of look out of place.

I want to be able to know where everything is in my house

I have an upstairs room I store my random things: scraps of fabric from a pair of pajama pants I tried to make and was halfway through until I realized I forgot to flip the pattern and I sewed two left legs; my yoga mat and DVDs I was crazy about in January, but have since given up on because I realized I was not relaxed when I was yelling at the instructors every time they said

"hold it just a few more seconds..."; books I intend to put on a shelf but won't until I get the rest of them out of my sister-in-law's attic; CDs...somewhere. Needless to say, I need to do an inventory of what I have upstairs and in the basement. Everything on the first floor is pretty much accounted for.

I want to be able to maintain a daily 10 minute clean

I have the instructions, but actually getting around to doing it at the end of the day seems to be the least appealing thing in the world. Hell, I've had two of my pillows in the dryer for two days now that I'm procrastinating bringing upstairs and putting back in their case. And my dishwasher, well, I keep hoping one day my husband will want to put the dishes away without me asking...but I think that's a pipe dream I need to get out of my head.

I want to learn the lyrics to at least 10 songs

I have a mental list of songs I want to be able to sing to my children. Offhand, I can only name three of them, but I know them when I hear them on my iPod. What I'd like to be able to do is learn the lyrics so I can sing them without having to substitute the words "something, something, love you something, something," which I tend to do when I completely blank on lyrics. I think karaoke spoiled me from having to learn lyrics. Either that, or I've been disappointed when I find the lyrics I've been singing for years is completely wrong. Case in point: After watching all five seasons of "Saved By The Bell" last week on DVD, I finally learned the words weren't "and the lawn gets out of waterin'", but were, in fact, "and the alarm lets out a warning." Not that I would put my children to bed singing the theme to "SBTB", but you never know.

I want to be able to change a diaper

Yeah, that's right, I've never actually done it on a live child before. Oh, sure, I had a flour baby and could easily put a diaper on a sack of flour, with one hand even. But an actual squirming, crying, wet and soiled child? No, never done it. I think I was afraid I'd secretly like it and start listening to my biological clock. Well, now that I've actually started noticing my biological clock, I seem to think it's with me when I have the irrational nightmare of pulling an Andrew Clark from "The Breakfast Club" and taping the child's buns together instead of the diaper. I'll get to it, I swear...

I want to be able to put together a delicious dinner in 30 minutes or less

Amendment to this statement: And not have to listen to anyone say "Yummo" or "E-V-O-O". God, I hate Rachael Ray. Hate. I would watch her on mute if I could. But, then again, I would want to be able to make these meals from scratch, too. Some of her stuff is pre-made she uses. Yeah, I'm kind of a perfectionist when it comes to cooking. I've baked and decorated my share of cakes, and I always feel so guilty when people tell me how good they are. I should be sending these compliments to Duncan Hines, actually. Oh, sure, the decorating is all me...but the cake is a mix+eggs+oil and my Kitchen Aide mixer, let's be honest. But I can decorate it like a champ!

One day, I may accomplish these goals. The red lipstick, well, that's the one that'll take some time...

The Weird Week

There's something about the week leading up to my birthday that has always been, well, interesting. I don't know what it is, but it's never just been a normal week. And I never remember or think about it until I'm smack-dab in the middle of it. By the way, my birthday's Saturday and it's the one year I haven't been noticing every day how much closer I am to turning another year older.

26 isn't anything too exciting, though. I mean, what's the big deal about 26? Not that I need any more birthdays that are a big deal. Turning 18 was big, although I don't know why, other than the fact I bought a lottery ticket that night and wasn't carded, unfortunately. 20 was such a cock-tease of a year. 21 was awesome and I got drunk on Mango Margaritas and shots of Southern Comfort (my gateway hard liquor, I call it). When I turned 25, it hit me I was getting married exactly three months later...and I wondered what I needed to finish up.

I don't remember much about the weeks leading up to these ages, but I know I've always noticed things were a bit off. Maybe it's the transition into springtime. I mean, the reason Miss Rhode Island won in "Miss Congeniality" has got to be because she was asked to pick the perfect date...and she chose my birthday: "April 25th. It's not too hot, it's not too cold, you just need a light jacket!" Oh, Cheryl Frasier.

Who knows. Maybe it's all in my head. It probably is. Although, that wouldn't explain the office fire I helped put out yesterday.

We had sort of a field trip to help clean up the beach by where we worked, so we were out in the rain doing so. When we got back, my coworker and I had our clothes drying next to a space heater. Well, he decided to drape his sweater over the top of it, and then left a few minutes later to go to the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an orange glow coming out of the back of the heater. I grabbed the sweater off of it, then saw a flame inside. Well, I said something to the effect of "Oh crap, it's on fire." And started running to get the fire extinguisher. When I ran back, all the guys in the office were just starring at it, like "Oooh, fire!" Meanwhile, I'm practically dragging this extinguisher with two hands, when my boss finally says, "Oh, here, give me that." And he put out the fire.

But, what was funny was everyone was giving me the credit, including my boss. I think mostly because I didn't just stare at it in wonder. They didn't even know we had a fire extinguisher and was impressed I was able to find it so quickly. (Incidentally, it was by the door we all use.)

Following that rush, we got out of work early so the fumes could be properly handled. So, everyone decided to go for a drink. When I got there, they set up a game of pool, and asked if I wanted to play. Well, other than knocking in the 8-Ball on my third shot, I blew their minds. Granted, I've been around a pool table my whole life. My grandfather taught me to play. And I'm even better when I don't have to call what ball I want to go in. For some reason, I learned how to play left-handed, but that never seemed to hinder me. But the fact that I got to "impress" my coworkers twice yesterday, and at things that don't have anything to do with my actual job, made me realize I'm in the middle of my Annual Weird Week.

Oh, sure. Other stuff has happened a little out of the ordinary, but that was the adrenaline rush of yesterday I couldn't wait to write about.

There's An Off Button For A Reason

My husband tonight made the romantic gesture of handing me the remote when I got home from work. He was working on grading some papers, and in a tiff we had last night, I brought up the fact that I never got the remote. Once the "power" was handed to me, we went out to dinner, but when we got back, I settled into the chair and left the remote right where I left it. I went online and started looking at the things I wouldn't normally look at while I'm at work. He settled on the couch with his book. No one reached for the remote at all. We just sat in silence for about an hour with our respective forms of entertainment and it was heaven!

When I was younger, I was glued to the television. I read that statistic about the average adolencent watching three hours of television a day...and I realized I was "above average". I would get home from school and I had my schedule of programming from the time I got home to the time I went to bed all planned out. Weekends was nothing but television, from Friday night TGIF on ABC to Saturday night SNICK on Nickelodeon to Sunday night Nick at Nite. I would only fake sick until I was tired of trying to find something good on daytime television. And summer vacations started to get real tiring around August when there was nothing but reruns on.

When I was first learning to read, my mom got me the book "The Berenstain Bears and Too Much TV." Admittedly, I would read that from time to time as I grew older (when I realized I was bored with television, but couldn't think of something better to do). Basically, Mama Bear decided her family had been spending too much time in front of the television, so she turned it off for a week. The bears had to find other means of entertaining themselves. At the end, they were involved in other hobbies that once TV was no longer banned, they didn't want it. So I tried the experiment a few times throughout the years.

Usually, I realized how slow time moved without the TV. I realized I had to check the clock more often because I didn't have my usual schedule as a time-marker. (5:05-6:05 on TBS, "Saved by the Bell" was always my benchmark for when my homework should be done by...if I did it, that is.)

I learned how to knit, I taught myself basic sign language, I read all 32 of my collection of "The Baby-Sitters Club" books a few times, I memorized the order of birthstones, I looked up random words in the dictionary and tried to memorize them so I could impress people, I went through an entire cookbook of microwave recipes (and learned to always mix in baking soda really well when making brownies...blegh!), I made Creepy Crawlers, I played kickball with the neighbors, I played Mario Paint (I didn't count that as television for some reason), I listened to music with my dad, I taught myself multiplication (no, really, I did--I was in the bathroom and decided I wanted to learn and figured it out with the help of a calculator I brought in with me...I really was a weird child).

But, sooner or later, I'd go back to television. I was, however, trained very well in the art of turning the television off. I wasn't allowed to fall asleep to it, either. It was off at 10 when I went to bed. If I tried to turn it on, my mom would see that glowing blue light from under my door and yell at me to turn it off. This love of the television is still the reason today I don't like really crunchy foods. See, I had a television with an actual volume knob you had to get up to adjust, so I only ate chewy foods that I could hear the TV over, instead of loud crunching. Many Cheetos were sucked upon until they were the correct consistency to hear over...or I would simply suck all the cheese off, then throw the corn puffs away.

In high school, I didn't have a TV in my room. I watched Jeopardy in the living room with my mom and grandma with our little TV trays, or I would watch the TV in my mom's room. But that was also when the internet started to take off, so I had new and different entertainment to keep me satisfied.

Once I got to college, I had to extrovert myself a little, so the TV was out of the picture pretty much...until I discovered DDR, which, again, does not count as television. Once I moved back home, I had a TV in my room again, but I didn't feel the need to watch it a lot. Maybe a movie now and then, but that was about it. I was too busy being social and working.

Then came the summer of nightmares. Almost every night for an entire month before my junior year of college, I was having terrible nightmares. These were nightmares that made me wake up screaming, crying, sweating, panting, you name it. And it wasn't all monsters and stuff, it was nightmares about things happening to my family, friends or, the scariest of them, my future children. That was when I started falling asleep to the Disney Channel. Nothing bad happened on the Disney Channel. I could hear it during the nightmares and I was able to concentrate on it enough to wake myself up before a dream turned into a nightmare.

For the next five months, I couldn't sleep without it on. I remember wanting to so badly, too, but every time I would turn it off and lay in the darkness, I would get mini-anxiety attacks worrying about having nightmares and not being able to wake up when I wanted to.

Once January hit, though, I made it my New Year's Resolution to fall asleep without the television. If, for nothing else, so I could get a good night's sleep and not be on edge the whole night with background noise. One night turned into two, which turned into a week, and, before I knew it, I had gone a few months turning out my light, turning off the TV, and falling asleep.

Since then, the TV has been sort of like a pair of earrings that don't necessarily go with everything, but there are a few key outfits that look great with them. If that didn't make sense to you (I realized I could come up with a better analogy if I really thought about it), television went back to being a sometimes thing.

My husband, however, loves the TV. When I lived with him and his parents, it was very rare I came home to a turned off television. It got to the point where I could here the buzz from just the television being on, even if it was on mute, and it would give me a headache. Sometimes I have evil fantasies about my husband coming home and finding the television stolen, just so I can walk in the door to him. Not "him sitting on the couch watching TV", not "him sitting with his laptop, not even watching the TV, but it's still on", not "him shushing my until a commercial break"--just "him".

So, tonight was a real nice night for me, it really was. He's now in the other room and I can hear a clock ticking and his sighs of tiredness every so often. And it's the most relaxing sound I can think of to listen to.

Oh, and this was the inspiration to finally write about my anti-TV ways I thought were crazy.

Almost As Bad As Giving A Child A Peanut!

Sunny days! The earliest episodes of “Sesame Street” are available on digital video! Break out some Keebler products, fire up the DVD player and prepare for the exquisite pleasure-pain of top-shelf nostalgia.

Just don’t bring the children. According to an earnest warning on Volumes 1 and 2, “Sesame Street: Old School” is adults-only: “These early ‘Sesame Street’ episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today’s preschool child.”

LINK

Let's NOT Do The Time Warp Again

Oh, look what MTV's got their filthy little mitts on now.

stoptheremake.com

I will not sign a petition, however. If they pick someone good for Frank N. Furter, I'll put it on my DVR. Someone like Perez Hilton or Patricia Arquette or...Miley Cyrus!

Quick opinion on the status of MTV: It's turned into the grandmother of television. When my generation first got a glimpse of the neon logo flashing in seizure-like fashion, we embraced it for its edge. We watched college kids on their spring break, half of them hot little numbers showing off their bodies, the other half sporting flannel shirts and Birkenstocks to the beach. We watched seven strangers who, holy crap, were actually very different and could get along, for the most part. We watched HOURS of music videos. We had special relationships with our VJs (I still love you, Kennedy!). We were taught and disciplined in the way of a revival of rock. (Yes, I consider the '90s a revival of sorts.) And, every once in a while, we would catch episodes of "Beavis Butt-Head" and, during the beginning of the end, the quick, but powerful, rise and fall of "Daria". And I know I'm not the only one who played along to "Singled Out"...but that was only to kill that half-an-hour before more music videos would introduce me to Pearl Jam, Counting Crows, Aerosmith, Blind Mellon and whatever else I have stored on my iPod and consider "nostalgia".

By the time "seven strangers" turned into "seven of the same people who like to fight", and only five videos were shown each day (TRL), and Carson Daly became a household name, I had already started watching VH1 on a regular basis. Hell, I still try and find new Pop-Up Videos on YouTube now and then. "Behind the Music" had me captivated. And once all the "I Love The..." shows came out, MTV could have fallen off the face of the earth, and I wouldn't have noticed. I call MTV the grandmother of television because I think when kids watch that crap, it's like going to grandma's house, and her letting you stuff your face with whatever shit you decide you want to eat. And grandma knows you'll have a stomach ache later, but by that time, you'll already be home with your parents and they'll have to deal with the whining and moaning. It's sweet revenge.

Yeah, so that was my rant. Oh! And don't tell me "Well, there's MTV Classic" or something like that. NO! When I turn on MTV, I want MY MTV.

The Art of Eavesdropping

One of the best qualities I honed when I was younger was eavesdropping. I read a few Nancy Drew books, a few "So You Wanna Be A Spy" books, and got enough practice sneaking around the house listening to my mom's phone conversations and my parents' fights.

When I began studying journalism in college, we were told that some of the best tips were found via eavesdropping, "accidentally" overhearing conversations at coffee shops/diners, being at the right place at the right time. When we were told that, I smiled to myself. I had become quite good at the art.

Eavesdropping is not pressing your ear to a glass against a door or picking up a telephone extension (besides, most people would be using their cell phone). Real eavesdropping is becoming invisible.

Don't Make Eye Contact
Never look in the direction of what you're supposed to be listening to. Whenever I don't have my contacts in or my glasses on, I find myself asking people to repeat what they're saying more often. Somehow, when I'm looking at something, I have more of my attention on it, therefore, I'm taking in more information. It takes a lot to look away from something you feel is important to be listening to.

Occupy Yourself With Something Else
If you can't help turning your head (or your eyes--watch out for those!), fiddle with a napkin, look for something in your purse, pretend to text someone on your cell phone, or, better yet, pretend to call someone or your voicemail. Never include yourself in the conversation, even if you have something to add. As soon as you involve yourself in said conversation, you are no longer eavesdropping.

Listen For Keywords

Can't hear every word? If you know what the conversation is pertaining to, try to focus on hearing what you're essentially looking for. Most likely, you'll need to hear the names and verbs associated with those names. But also be on the lookout for words like "not", "isn't", "can't"--things that will keep you from jumping to conclusions about the verbs and nouns you're hearing. If you're not sure exactly what the conversation is pertaining to, make sure you have other evidence to support your conclusions.

Never Repeat What You Heard

Eavesdropping is for personal reasons. Don't go bragging what you heard. Journalists use eavesdropping for tips and leads, not the story itself. Once you have something though eavesdropping, it's up to you how to get what you want to know elsewhere. Also, never start a gossip session with something you learned (or assumed you learned) from eavesdropping. On top of that, NEVER say, "I was eavesdropping and..." That goes for "I overheard...", as well. Don't give away that you eavesdrop (I just broke my own rule by writing this, I guess), or you'll make others wary whenever you're present. No one will say anything around you again.

Make Sure You Have Good Reason To Eavesdrop

Bad reasons to eavesdrop:

To keep the rumor mill going

To further your own social status or agenda

To use information against someone else for personal gain (blackmail, e.g.)

Good reasons to eavesdrop:

Well, other than doing so as a watchdog for the public (sorry, sometimes the ideals of J-school come back to me), there isn't really a great reason to eavesdrop.

However, it doesn't hurt to eavesdrop when it comes to work (overhearing your bosses talking about something that will affect your job) or if you want to avoid an unpleasant situation with information you may not already have (texting someone jokingly, telling them a yo mama joke, if you didn't know his mother just passed away).

Practice Makes Perfect

It's so easy to practice eavesdropping. There are plenty of public places to practice. In line for coffee, while shopping, while waiting for the train (one of my favorite places to eavesdrop), at work (it's amazing how secluded people feel when they're in a cubicle), in the car (turn off the radio and roll down your windows on a hot day), any place that's public.

Don't Do It

The best way to keep yourself from being asked about information you're not comfortable having knowledge about it...not to actually know. No matter how good of an actor you think you are, it's easier to pull the ignorance card when you actually are ignorant. So, your best bet is not to eavesdrop at all and keep yourself occupied with things that actually concern you.

But, if you must eavesdrop, at least do it well. Maybe sometime soon, I'll write about how to have a conversation that cannot be eavesdropped upon, because that's an even better skill to have, especially since I wrote this.

I Got Soap in My Head

After trying to regain the time I felt I lost yesterday by sleeping late and becoming overly-lethargic because of the broken A/C at work, I woke up an extra 15 minutes early today. I flawlessly applied my make-up, going a little darker than I normally would wear to work; I picked out an outfit I know looks fine, although being that I'm wearing it all day, I think it's too busy for me; and I made sure I washed, dried and styled my hair to perfection. With the last curl and spritz I was about to do, I realized what I had become, or, more accurately, what I was striving for: I was starting to resemble a soap opera character.

I was turning into someone with an androgynous name like Dixyn or Varmel, who took all day to shop for an outlet cover for their homes, without going to work at all and having tons of money from my several dead/estranged/gender-confused husbands. I probably also had a child when I was 19, who, through the magic of soap-time, is now 15 and possibly pregnant with twins from two different fathers.

Then I started wondering if I would be a good girl or villain. I was hoping for the latter, as they have more fun, more sex, more money, and don't have to bother themselves with trying to please everyone. But, at the same time, I know too many people who fit into the category of "villain" in what would be my soap-opera-life. Maybe I would be an undetermined character.

Oh, who was I kidding. I am the fat soap star, who gets the network praised on hiring "not another size 4" for a role. I'd probably get nominated for best supporting actress at the daytime Emmys for being the "big girl in a small role". Har har har, oh the speechwriters would pat themselves on the back for that one.

Oh god, I remembered the more I thought about the situation. I was channelling my inner WASP, as they tend to strive to have the lifestyles soap characters do. My aunt actually got her "interior design knowledge" from soap operas.

What if I wasn't even on a good soap? What if I was on one of the poorly-slotted little-known name soaps that have only been around for a few years? Something with a name like "Glistening Virtues" or "Soaring Lillies". What if I were forced to wear the same outfit for four days straight, while still shopping for that one outlet cover to match my French drapes and coat of armor in my foyer? What if I had a foyer?!

No, no, no. This has gotten out of hand. I'm just not used to being this prepared every morning. I'm just getting back into the habit I threw away over my long weekend. People really do this, right? Emily P. vs. Emily A. isn't unrealistic, right? I did forget to put perfume on this morning; I'm not perfect. I am flawed today. Not to mention the scale not moving for about a week, whether I'm on my diet or not. Soap stars lose weight quickly; in soap opera time, I would have lost 30 pounds in 10 days, considering every day lasts about five in real time. And weekends wouldn't count. And my weight-loss efforts would be futile, since I would be kidnapped at some point and forced to gain the weight back so people would be able to tell the difference between me and my evil twin.

I wonder if my Emily P./Emily A. scenario is sort of like my evil twin storyline. Emily P. wasn't necessarily evil. She had her moments, but then again so will Emily A., I'm sure of. And maybe real-me wouldn't need soap opera husbands because my husband displays too many different personalities depending on the day. And, although I've been re-applying my shiny lip gloss all day, I know I won't make a habit of it. And my small-talks with people won't come back as a plot revelation later in the week; it'll just stay small-talk. And my moments alone in the house will be some of my most enjoyable times, not some fancy fund-raiser with all the big names in town when I'm being honored for being writer of the year for a book I've clearly been doing during my offtime raising my estranged child, spending money decorating my chateau, or having coffee conversations about my friends' ex-husbands, possible fathers of their children, coniving sisters or vindictive mothers-in-law.

Labor Day, followed by anti-Labor Day

Yesterday we had our first big get-together at our house. We threw a last-minute Labor Day picnic. And it was fabulous. Unfortunately, I actually got a slight buzz from some sugary-type drinks.

This morning, I had forgotten to turn my alarm clock on. I woke up a little on the weird side: the sugar rush had worn off, I slept an hour-and-a-half later than I normally do, and because I forgot to grab my work shoes, I had to turn around and I was late for work. My whole day was off. I tried to stick to my diet, but once we found out the A/C was broken in our office, I was miserably hot and all I wanted was a sandwich, some salt & vinegar ships and a nice, cold soda. My entire day was completely anti-Emily A. and reminiscent of Emily P. But sometimes that's a nice thing.

If People Were Meant to Pop Out of Bed, We'd All Sleep in Toasters.

Since coming back three weeks ago from our honeymoon, I've turned into this pseudo-Emily I barely recognize.

I wake up early, I make the bed, I clean, I pack a lunch, I put on make-up at home (not in traffic!), I get work done early, I clean my car when I'm stuck in traffic on the ride home, I stick to a diet (for more than three days, even!), I come home and keep cleaning, I curse my husband for thinking the kitchen cleans itself at night, then I secretly thank him for giving me the mess so I can feel productive and keep this streak up.

There are these affirmations constantly playing in my head, since I got back:

"Emily P. wakes up late, splashes water on her face, brushes her teeth and doesn't care what she's wear as she runs out the door; Emily A. sets her alarm a half an hour earlier and only allows herself to hit the snooze button once."

"Emily P. only wears her hair down when she has the motivation to style it; Emily A.'s hair is styled everyday." -- Granted, this affirmation is unfair since I cut my hair on my honeymoon after letting it grow as long as I've ever had it just so I had more versatility for the wedding hairstyle.

"Emily P. says she'll do things, but procrastinates instead; Emily A. doesn't let herself procrastinate for too long."

"Emily P. lets things that aren't hers sit out, silently cursing whoever the items belong to; Emily A. moves things on her own, knowing that if they don't belong to her, they are probably her husband's. He still has to put them away, but at least they're moved out of Emily's way."

"Emily P. decides on a diet, becomes excited for it, goes full force into it, then fails; Emily A. has been on the same diet for two weeks now, not minding the stagnant days of weight loss here and there, knowing she can make mistakes, is going to be patient with the scale."

"Emily P. spends cash on lunch at work, eating cafeteria food filled with God-Knows-What; Emily A. packs her very diet friendly lunch every day, saving at least $25 a week on food."

"Emily P. needs to finish a bottle of wine before feeling accomplished; Emily A. feels accomplished when she notices a buzz from just one tall glass of wine, and can stop drinking for the rest of the night." -- Getting a wine stopper to keep wine fresh was also a factor in this.

"Emily P. figured she was an adult already; Emily A. knew she was wrong."

Links to inspire (Please don't be put off by the eye-rolling tendencies you may have when reading some of these; trust me, I did the same thing):

Rising early

Achieving A Goal

Positive Thinking