2014: Why Not!?

Shall there be resolutions for this new year?  Of course!  And they shall be meaningful, specific, and totally unattainable (in most cases).  At the end of the year, I'll hope no one remembers my lofty goals, that no one notices my pants are *tighter* rather than looser, that my eyebrows are still blond and invisible and therefore alien-like.

Thinking of really good resolutions.  

So here goes.  What I've turned my third eye toward for 2014:

1)  I've always been good at asking WHY NOT.  I've moved all over the country, going where the wind blew me, forever hurting my earning power but helping me become the very round person I am today. I mean, well-rounded.  I'm turning it up a notch, though, this year because asking WHY NOT is harder when you have a husband and three children.  Some people forget what that phrase even means after they have kids and turn from the life of the party into the plainest vanilla in the room.  I won't be that gal!

Thankfully, I've already started on this goal. I took a class, for credit, at our excellent local community college just for fun.  We painted our family mottos on the living room wall.  I bought really big weird glasses that are purple in the sunshine.  I slurped down raw oysters for the first time, one of the few foods I had been afraid of.  I started using butter on everything.  Maybe that last one doesn't count.  But I shall stop asking WHY and starting declaring WHY NOT!  I will say YES more.  I will care even less if someone thinks what I'm doing is weird. In fact, the weirder, the awesomer!

2) Speaking of awesome, I'm going to start a motorcycle club.  Ryan and I have been watching Sons of Anarchy, and I realized, in the fashion of WHY NOT, I needed to head up a group of motorcycle gangsters. What will my group of badasses look like? I do know there will be leather.  Oh yes, leather. I'm thinking chaps, low-cut t-shirts, tattoos everywhere.  Some brawls in the backyard, a few prospects to torment (wax my floors, pond scum!), and wild raucous parties that end in a happy naked pile.  I will tell you what there won't be: motorcycles. I hate the things. But I feel I can't be a gangster without calling my club a motorcycle gang.  Maybe I'll put a few photos of motorcycles up on the wall of our "chapel", which will be in the kids' playhouse out back.

The name?  Bitches that Read.  I really wanted it to be Bitches That Read, Write, and Cook in a Generally Awesome Way, but that doesn't roll off the tongue too well.  I'm not sure when or if we'll ever meet, but know that I'm an official BTR badass and that you had better pay me the respect I (think I) deserve.   In fact, if you ever see me, you'd better run up and bump my belly with yours. I've always wanted to greet people that way, and now that I have a motorcycle club, I can do it!

If you wanna join, send me 500 words on whether I should ever tell my kids that rather than prepare for an essay exam on Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse in high school, I watched a Green Acres marathon, showed up to class without having read one word of it (and no Cliffsnotes either), read half of it during the exam, and managed to eek out a B.  I mean, that's pretty much the most badass thing I've ever done, and I gotta show my kids I'm more than just a really hot mom. I'm a GANGSTER, dammit!

3) I'm going to practice the art of brevity.

I'm out, y'all.  I gotta go shine my van and oil the stand mixer.  Happy New Year!