Sprinkling Our Outrage

The human brain is fascinating. It lets us conveniently forget unsettling facts and allows us to process information in a way that shields us from thinking too deeply or even logically. My current deep thoughts about brain science are brought on by the outrage over the Super Bowl halftime show. I know totally old news, right?

But is it? Because I think it’s a case study in how people chose to get all riled up about the little things instead of saving their fury for bigger issues.

I must confess that I didn’t even see the halftime show. But after all the “clutching my pearls” horror about J. Lo and Shakira’s 12 minutes on stage flooding my social media newsfeeds I went back and watched it.

My fundamental takeaway as a 50 something woman viewing the performance is that Jennifer Lopez at 50 is now my spirit animal. Just wow.

That said, I can understand how some people, people who have never experienced a swimming pool or been on the Internet in the past 20 years might have been dismayed to see women exposing more than their clavicles. For the rest of humanity who sees more skin revealed at their local Walmart I just didn’t get all the “world is coming to an end” verbal ragers on social media.

It boggles my  mind, like really astounds me, that with all the horrific and frightening things happening right now why would any of us focus this much energy and emotion on a Super Bowl halftime show that lasted 720 seconds?

My theory is because it’s easy. It’s outrage for the lazy who want to bask in the attention from making a statement that has no real impact on anyone’s lives. It also makes me think of sprinkles. Sprinkles on cupcakes to be exact.

Years ago, my children attended an elementary school that banned sprinkles on cupcakes. The reasoning was that during school parties the cavalcade of sprinkle enriched treats that were brought in created a mess.

I totally understood the ban because sprinkles, much like Christmas tree tinsel, is the gift that keeps on giving. You think you’ve got it all cleaned up but weeks later you’re still finding tinsel or in this case sprinkles.

The backlash from the sprinkle ban was intense. There was even a “Save the Sprinkles” petition. Meanwhile, the state legislature was annihilating the school funding budget which was already gutted. Yet, this issue that had a real and lasting impact of education didn’t even garner half the attention the sprinkle ban did.

It’s because being pro sprinkles was so much easier than doing any work that was focused on advocating for education funding. Sprinkles are colorful, fun, easy. A grassroots effort to fight the legislature not so much.

Never mind that our kids could survive and even, fingers crossed, thrive in a sprinkle free learning environment. Something you couldn’t say about schools without art education and increased class sizes.

The sprinkle protest much like the recent halftime show fury quickly died down and was replaced with more interchangeable outrage over things that have zero impact on our lives but yet bring some form of, dare I say, enjoyment over getting all worked up about.

It makes me wonder what we could accomplish if we retrained our brains to think more deeply and instead of reacting over the trivial focused our attention on issues that have a real impact on our lives, our future, our humanity.

But I know that sounds like a whole lot less fun and and requires a whole lot more effort than going off on two middle-aged women dancing and singing during halftime at a football game.

Dear Snarky – I Tried to Give a New Mom at School the Inside Scoop and it Backfired

Dear Snarky,

A new family has moved into our neighborhood. One of the kid’s is in my daughter’s class. I met her mother and she seemed really nice. The problem is there’s a mom at the school who tricks  other parents into watching her kids.

It goes something like this: The mom suggests you start a carpool. You agree. Then before you know it you’re doing all the driving and the mom starts sending you texts asking if her kids can go home with you and she’ll pick them later and by later it turns out she means like way after dinner.

I saw this mom being really nice to the new mom and I knew what was up. She was going to start using the new mom as her latest free childcare.

I, being a really nice person, decided to warn the new mom about this woman. The new mom then told the other mom about what I said and now they’re both saying means things about me.

I’m really angry because all I did was give the new mom a head’s up, which by the way I wish someone had done for me, and now I’m the horrible mom. It’s really pissing me off.

Is there any way I can turn this around? It’s getting to me. I’m not going to lie the Valentine’s Day party at school was rough.

Signed, Just trying to help out

Dear Just Trying,

File this under no good deed goes unpunished and mind your own business. The problem here is that while trying to do what you thought was a kind thing (and I’m hoping that was your motivation) with your heads up to the new mom you entered into unknown territory.

 And by that, I mean you didn’t know the new mom well enough to judge how she would handle what you told her. Some mothers, for example – me, would be most appreciative of being told a little inside info. Other mothers are going to think that what you shared was mean spirited and perhaps gossipy. And there’s the third unknown that maybe this new mom is a pot stirrer and she’s going make her mark by really living large on what you shared.

 I think we all know which way this turned out. That said, there is really nothing you can do. I would ignore it. Keep your mouth firmly shut. To say anything else is just going to extend the life span of this drama.

I enthusiastically suggest in the future you need to be a little more circumspect about what you share with strangers and yes, this woman was essentially a stranger. What did you really know about her besides the fact that your kids attend the same school?

 Also, you can take some satisfaction from knowing that the new mom will most likely become the de facto childcare are provider for this woman. When this happens fight the urge to say, “I told you so.”

If you have a question for Dear Snarky – advice with an attitude – email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com. 😉

 

Pet Therapy For Troubled Times

I recently thought I might need some pet therapy. My dogs and cat are just fine, thank you and I don’t need a licensed emotional support animal because according to the quickest of Google searches I can get a “certified support canine” I.D. card for both my dogs for a mere $29.99.

Granted the I.D. cards look about as official as a fake I.D. a college student would attempt to use to get into a bar but still to the less than discerning eye the canine support I.D. might fool you and bonus having you oohing and aahing.

This is because the I.D. has a picture of your dog on it. Thus, rendering it adorable and then there’s the “full access required by law” red, white and blue banner on the card that does give it a dash of official government document gravitas.

But faux support canine I.D.’s aside my pet therapy issue stems from the fact that I think I’ve been enjoying my dogs company far too much. I realize being an almost empty nester (and by “almost” I mean I don’t consider my nest empty until my children have vacated my home and my wallet) I could be projecting the affection I used to lavish on my children onto my pets.

But I fear my affliction goes way beyond that. If given the option of going out or staying home with my dogs, it’s almost always advantage dogs.

I was really worried about myself until I did some research and came up with a theory totally not supported by voluminous scientific data because, well, let’s just say that sounded like a lot of work. My non peer reviewed hypothesis is that the reason more people are favoring animal companionship over human interaction is due to the hostile political climate. (Note: I am referencing all politics – no matter what party you may align yourself with.)

To support this statement, I tracked the increase in pet ownership since the divisive 2016 presidential election. This also turned out to be divisive because the American Pet Products Association and the American Veterinary Medical Association stats don’t match up – at all.

I’m clueless about what the methodology was for each organizations numbers but I think maybe one group must have gone full Dr. Doolittle and talked to the pets and the other group polled humans. This madness forced me to use math (my least favorite thing) and average the numbers that showed pet ownership has, indeed, increased every year since 2016.

I then conducted my own survey and interviewed friends and acquaintances about their social interaction choices. The question I asked was if given a choice would they rather go out or stay home with their pets?

Pets was the top choice more than 70 percent of the time. And because I consider myself a social scientist with about the same level of authenticity as those “certified support canine” I.D.’s I organized a focus group.

The group backed up my hypothesis. The most overwhelming sentiment was that people would rather enjoy the company of their pet than venture out to a social gathering where someone will invariably turn the topic to politics. One woman shared that after attending a black-tie event where a man she didn’t know told her that her political beliefs were “based on false memories” she pretty much swore off voluntarily leaving her house or her dogs.

All my research made me feel not only much better but superior even. Why would anyone choose to leave the unconditional love of their pets  to venture out into the politically charged conversational chaos if you didn’t have too? Maybe by staying home with my canine companions I’m living my best life in an angry world.

 

Dear Snarky – The Super Bowl Ruined My Super Proposal

Dear Snarky,

 The Super Bowl ruined my engagement and I don’t know what to do about it. My boyfriend of almost two years had planned to ask me to marry him during the Super Bowl. It wasn’t going to be a surprise or anything because we had talked about it a lot and made plans. I even had a cute hashtag for it. I was going to use #SuperProposal.

 While we were watching the game with thousands of other fans in downtown Kansas City he started to get weird and then after the third quarter he told me that the Chiefs losing by 10 points was a sign that we shouldn’t get married. Then after the fourth quarter interception by the 49’ers he left me, like he disappeared from the party zone.

 While everyone was celebrating the Chiefs win, I was standing in the crowd crying because I wasn’t engaged, and I was all alone. My mom says I should cut my boyfriend some slack because “sports can make guys do weird things.” I’m thinking I shouldn’t let him off that easy. What do you think I should do?

 Signed, #noproposal

Dear No Proposal,

 You need to make like Mahomes and throw this guy about 40 yards because here’s a hash tag for you #YourBoyfriendIsAloser. First and foremost, the fact that he gave up on his team in the 3rd quarter speaks to a total lack of character.

 And using the Chiefs being down by 10 points as an excuse to call off the proposal is beyond childish. If this dude was getting cold feet about the proposal he should have manned up and said so and not blamed it on a football score. And trust me if he used that as a reason to not propose he DID NOT want to get engaged.

 Lastly and much more importantly, it is outrageous and unforgivable that this man/child disappeared into the crowd and left you and shame on your mom for making excuses for him. If some guy pulled this on my daughter he would be dropped kicked.

 If you marry this dolt it will result in #SuperMisery. Marriage is hard and you will endure many sad and challenging situations like a death in the family, financial problems and parenting issues. If this guy ghosted you due to a Super Bowl score then there is no way in hell he’s ready to be a husband.

If you have a question for Dear Snarky – advice with an attitude – email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com. 😉

 

 

 

Family Drama Can Be a Royal Pain

Family drama is fascinating especially when it’s not your family having all the drama. This is why I’ve been keenly interested in the whole Meghan Markle/Prince Harry saga. It’s like a “Real Housewives” reunion show without the hair pulling and of course, a whole lot more money, historical ramifications, one-of-a-kind tiaras and real estate.

I feel uniquely qualified to comment on this whole hullabaloo because I’ve been a loyal reader of Majesty Magazine “the quality royal publication” since the age of 11, got up super early to watch Princess Di’s wedding while eating scones (overrated biscuits in my opinion), and most importantly Princess Di and I were born the same year.

When she got married at the, I would say, too young age of 20 I felt for her – keenly. What was she doing? Her betrothed could not in any realm be classified as a dashing prince. To me Prince Charles exuded all the charm of a cold cafeteria fish stick that you got stuck with because you were last in the middle school lunch line.

There is no question that Charles is loaded and has access to multiple castle like dwellings but still a young woman of 20 yearns for more. 20-year-olds still dream of romance and swooning passions. Not getting married to a man/prince who upon being asked in an engagement interview if he’s in love dourly utters, “Whatever love means.”

Hindsight being what it is she should have ditched him then and there. Who marries a guy that is too lazy to even pretend that he has, at the very least, a fondness for his bride? But alas, they got married and we all sadly know how that ended.

Now fast forward to this month’s royal shake up and I find myself confused and perchance a little impressed. My confusion comes from the fact that Meghan and Harry, a couple creeping up on 40, and with Meghan having a previous marriage under her Hermès belt, were both so seemingly naïve about family dynamics. No one just gets married and presto fits into their new family. It can be an eternal struggle.

I still have the psychological battle wounds from December of 1998 when my husband and I told my in-laws that we would not be spending Christmas morning with them. It was rough and emotional. And I, not being the blood family member, was blamed for the decision and was accused of “ruining Christmas.”

The histrionics were impressive, and my in-laws seemed to conveniently forget that we were already spending Christmas Eve with them. Meanwhile, my dad was beyond ticked off that I had to see my husband’s family at all because, and this is an exact quote, “A daughter’s gift is always putting her own parent’s first.” (20 plus years later I’m still in awe he uttered those words with a straight face.)

Finally, we pulled what I’m now going to call a “Meghan and Harry” and just did what we wanted because there’s no way you’re going to please everyone in your family – ever.

What impresses me about this latest royal melt down is that the Queen is still a force to be reckoned with. At 93 she has still got it – big time. With equal parts love and harsh common sense, she swiftly said a great big no to the whole part-time royal scenario. But I also have to give props to the newly liberated Harry and Meghan. They got their monarchical umbilical cord cut in under two weeks. Let’s hope it turns out to be what they wanted.

I wish this duo nothing but the best of luck in their new adventure, but I have to caution them that being a member of any family is inherently messy and while you can run you can’t hide – crown or no crown.

 

 

 

Dear Snarky – Is It Wrong to Keep My Super Bowl Party Chiefs Fans Only?

Dear Snarky,

I’m so mad right now when I should be in a great mood. Finally, after 50 years, the Kansas City Chiefs are going to the Super Bowl. I have been a loyal Chiefs fan since the day I was born. I’m so flipping excited about the Chiefs being in the Super Bowl that my husband and I are throwing a major party.

 I invited all of our friends who love the Chiefs as much as we do. My problem is I have a friend who I like except when it comes to football. She’s a huge Patriots fan and hates the Chiefs. She is so obnoxious about it and trash talks the Chiefs all the time. 

 Because of this I didn’t invite her to my Super Bowl party and now she’s pissed and getting our friends to constantly bug me to invite her to the party.

 I really don’t want to listen to her mouth the entire game but I’m getting worn down by all the texts and phone calls. Do you think I’m right to stick with my original decision to not invite her?

 Signed, Keeping My Home for Mahomies

Dear Mahomies,

 When your beloved football team that you’ve rooted for since birth heads to the Super Bowl you are perfectly within your rights to not invite someone who enjoys disparaging your team to your home for a Super Bowl party.

 I would have a conversation with this woman pronto and just tell her straight up that she wasn’t invited because she has enthusiastically and repeatedly stated that she hates the Chiefs so why in the world would she think that you would extend an invitation to her for a C-H-I-E-F-S Super Bowl party?

 Furthermore, the fact that she’s being a self-involved moron and harassing your friend group for an invite makes me think that you might want to reconsider her as a friend – just saying. At the very least she should get an unsportsmanlike conduct call. 

 Also, if you take the football team rivalry totally out of the equation you still have a grown woman with horrible manners and social skills. You never impinge about your friends to harass another friend for an invite to a party. Period. 

 My advice is to not make any changes to your guest list. You have every right to keep your house a Mahomie only zone.  

If you have a question for Dear Snarky – advice with an attitude – email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com. 😉

 

Why Can’t Women Just Be the Boss and Other Reflections on the Word Bossy

People I’m worried. I’m not feeling this new year. And by not feeling I mean it’s making me angry. Loyal readers might be shaking their heads and saying, “Umm didn’t you just have a sizable rant-a-thon last week?”

To that question I answer a resounding yes. But it appears that perhaps 2020 is the year of the rant. To be honest this makes me a little bit excited because I feel likes it plays to my strong suit – aggressive pontificating. My family calls it complaining but that just shows their lack of appreciation for my oratorical gifts. All they hear is blah, blah, blah. Their loss, I assure you.

This latest rant was born at Target on a Sunday afternoon. There I was blissfully walking the aisles taking in the clearance wares when I spied a hot pinkish water bottle geared towards girls decorated with the phrase, “I’m not bossy I am the boss.”

Really? What is it with the female gender being tied to the word bossy? I must confess I was already sensitive because upon entering Target I saw a woman in a T-shirt declaring herself a “Boss Babe.” Just yuck on that and now let me break it down why all this bossy stuff ticks me off.

It’s because I believe the word bossy is almost always applied to females and it’s used as a pejorative. Almost, a substitute, if you will, for the other B word. Never, as in almost never ever, do I hear a male being called bossy.

Even boys get a bossy pass. We call them “determined” or “single minded.” But girls well, they’re bossy. I admit to being guilty of this as well. I can’t remember calling my son “bossy,” but I told my daughter she was a “bossy boots” a lot.

It wasn’t until she was about six years old when she asked me why I just called her “bossy boots” and not her brother? She felt like “bossy boots” was a bit of a slight and you know what? She was right.

It took a parent/teacher conference for me to have a larger awakening. It happened when a teacher told me my daughter was bossy. This same teacher had just described my son (who is as bossy as his sister, perhaps even more so) as “commanding.” This made me literally laugh out loud.

I asked her if she thought both of my children were equally bossy. She quickly replied, “yes” while laughing with me. I then then asked why did she call my daughter bossy and yet my son got commanding? One word sounds like a compliment the other not so much.

The teacher admitted she didn’t know why and then said apologetically that she always thought of assertive girls as bossy.

I couldn’t get mad at the teacher because I had done the same thing. But, from that day on I eliminated the word bossy from my vocabulary.

Then, just a couple of a years later “Girl Boss” and “Lady Boss” became a part of the lexicon. This infuriated me. Why can’t you just be the boss – no gender attached? We don’t typically call men “Dude Boss “or “Guy Boss.”

And for the love of equality why is there the phrase “Boss Babe?” Plus, if you’re wearing an article of clothing that proclaims you as a “Boss Babe” perhaps you should reconsider your choice of attire until men wearing “Boss Beefcake” shirts become part of the fashion landscape.

As we dive into 2020, I think the using the word bossy to describe confident females needs to get drop kicked right out of this new decade. The word has reached its expiration date.

Postscript – Today when I was scrolling through my Facebook feed I saw a national all female organization refer to a member who just got a substantial city building contract as a “Builder Babe.”  Sigh.

We Need to Cut Back On All the “Be Happy” B.S.

We’re one week into 2020 and I’m already at full rant, like Defcon 1 rant.

I tried to tamp this rant down, but it just made it worse like when you squeeze yourself into shape wear in an attempt to tame your stomach bulge and all the mighty Lycra does it take your flab and relocate it as back fat or, my personal favorite, reimagines it as a “companion boob.”

This is when the shape wear pushes your love handles up to create a smoother stomach region but, in the process, a secondary lower chest area is constructed. Basically, not a look anyone is going for – ever.

My rant, like my abs or lack thereof, could not be vanquished. As much as I tried to suppress and compress it the rant tenaciously had a hold on me. The only solution is, I think, to let it out. So, here goes and I’m beginning with this prelude rant.

Can we stop with all the rebranding of New Year’s slogans? Remember the “Do something you’re afraid of” catch phrase from five years ago? This one gave birth to books, planner and calendars all urging us to do something we’re afraid of everyday and then journal obsessively about it

For 2020 this has been refreshed as “Be brave enough to suck at something.”

Who are the people writing this stuff and what kind of life (and level of hubris) do they have where they aren’t concurrently sucking and being afraid of what they’re doing on an hourly basis?

For instance, as a mother to teenagers I was “brave enough to suck” at parenting every, single, day. It wasn’t a lifestyle choice either. It was survival.

I sucked at the big stuff and little stuff like being the mom that let my kids wear shorts to school when it was 15 degrees out. Why? Because I picked my battles and if they wanted to experience the harsh reality of chapped thighs so be it.

My main rant is all the new decade happiness hoopla from “how to be happy every day” to “eternal happiness.” This is total nonsense and 100 percent unattainable and unsustainable.

You can’t be happy all the time. There are times in your life when you will be unhappy, very unhappy. As a human you have to learn to sit with disappointment and sadness, even wallow in it and then come out the other side. (Note – I’m talking about general happiness. I’m in no way addressing the mental health issue of depression.)

Being unhappy isn’t a character defect it’s a feeling we all have and have to learn to manage. I can’t begin to imagine the pressure someone is putting on themselves (and everyone else around them) by thinking they have to or deserve to be happy every day. It’s not going to happen and that’s okay.

Starting last week my social media feeds became resplendent with posts about “Ichigo Ichie” which is described as a “Japanese practice of finding happiness.” One of the tenets that everyone is commenting on is “making every day a special occasion or celebration.”

Can I just say noooooo! This is a recipe for unhappiness. Again, think of the pressure this puts on you especially if you’re a parent to become your kids master of ceremonies of super duper daily happiness.

It’s essentially a call to action for every mom to redouble her efforts to make sure her children’s every waking moments are magical and Insta worthy.

In my parenting tenure I’ve seen school lunches go from here’s a turkey sandwich in a Glad Ziploc bag to Bento box lunches that are works of art. Cinderella’s castle made out of imported cheese and organic tofu anyone?

Birthday parties have morphed from a Costco sheet cake and a bounce house in the back yard to limousine rides to a salon for mini makeovers because when you hit eight years old you need a facial – stat.

Wouldn’t a better new decade mantra be everyday isn’t going to be special so except it and move on? Why aren’t we espousing the value of the building block of happiness – resilience? Because I don’t think you can achieve or sustain happiness without that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Snarky – Something Smells About My Dad’s New Wife

Dear Snarky,

I smell a rat and it’s my dad’s new wife. Apparently, she has a “severe scent allergy.” She says she is hypersensitive to certain smells that can cause a reaction that could send her to the hospital.

Before the Christmas holidays she group texted the entire family about how we would need to clear our houses of any scents that would quote “trigger” her. It was a pretty long list that included no air fresheners, no plug-in room fresheners, no scented candles or soap including even dish soap. We also couldn’t wear any scented body lotions, perfume or hair care products around her.

My sister and I thought her list was ludicrous. If you’re that sensitive to smells how do you leave the house because everywhere you go there’s someone wearing something scented.

But because we didn’t want to upset our dad we followed her list which was a huge pain in the ass and yet his wife still had a reaction at my sister’s house on Christmas and she had to leave because she said she could “smell balsam and it felt like her throat was closing.” Talk about drama.

Imagine my surprise when I saw her at a Bath and Bodyworks store on New Year’s Day shopping their big sale with a bag loaded up with scented products from candles to body lotion. I didn’t confront her, but I took a video of her shopping and texted it in the family group message.

Now, my dad is angry at me and his lying new wife is saying she just put a gel in her nose that allowed her to go into the store and my dad is totally buying this.

Is there any way to get him to acknowledge that his wife is a huge liar? And if she’s lying about this imagine what else she is making up?

Signed, Something Smells Off

Dear Off,

Let’s examine the facts. One, your new stepmother is indeed a liar. I’m no doctor but I am a fan of Bath and Body Works and I know if you had a severe scent sensitivity this emporium of smells from wild lime and gardenia to Jasmine and Frankincense would not be a nasal safe space.

I also consulted an allergist and there is no nose gel that would enable a person with such an allergy to plunge themselves into that level of scent utopia and not have a reaction.

This means that your father’s wife is seeking to control the family dynamics and draw attention to herself with these alleged scent issues. Sadly, there is nothing you can do to get your dad to wake up and smell the crazy.

If this ever does happen and it might not, he’s going to have to have his own awakening. No amount of family pressure will make him change his mind. In fact, it could cause him to cleave to this woman longer. You know the whole us against the world dynamic.

I would strive to keep an amicable relationship with your dad while telling his wife that you will no longer be purging your home of scents for her visits. (#UseThatNoseGel)

I also suggest that the fact that you would like to purge her from your family should be kept on the down low – at least for now.

If you have a question for Dear Snarky – advice with an attitude – email me at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com. 😉

 

 

 

 

Happy 2020!

It’s New Year’s Day and this just isn’t any New Year it’s the start of a new decade. So cue all the stories and lists about how to make this next decade “the best ever.”

If you’re a journalist assigned to do a story on New Year’s resolutions your first wish for 2020 is not to get this assignment. The reason is because there’s really no inventive way to do a “refresh” or update this topic. It’s more recycling than any actual reporting.

This is mainly because the top resolutions never change. Coming in at number one is always weight loss and health. Number two is usually money – making more and spending less. Next up is de-stressing and getting more enjoyment from life and rounding out the resolution parade is looking younger which is now politely called anti-aging or “being the best you.”

This one always makes me roll my eyes to the back of my head. Isn’t aging a good thing? It means you’re still here. I’m also very discouraged about how almost every magazine that caters to a female audience has pounced on the anti-aging bandwagon.

The day Southern Living, the magazine I was raised on, started doing stories on hair styles that take 10 years off your face I felt betrayed. This is a magazine that is supposed to share recipes with a focus on pecans and genteel home décor.

It was my safe space where I didn’t have to read articles that either scared me or made my feel bad about my body from head to toe with features on diminishing hair follicles to the bunion crisis.

Southern Living is where I learned the proper way to monogram my table linens so imagine my sense of deception when they started doings stories on retinol based face creams. It was blasphemy plain and simple.

Trust me, if you’re bringing a stellar King Ranch casserole from a Southern Living recipe to a party no one cares how young you look. Primarily because everybody’s going to love you and no one’s going to be looking at your face because all eyes are on that casserole.

Worse than feeling like your magazine bestie has let you down is being interrupted while writing a New Year’s resolution story by people asking you what your resolutions are. I hate asking that questions and I hate answering it.

Besides my list is lame. Don’t believe me? Well, then here it is.

 My favorite resolution is to intensify my love affair with my pets. There’s nothing like being an almost empty nest to make your pets the center of your world.

True story – during the last snowstorm my husband and I lovingly stared out our French doors and got all the warm and fuzzy feels watching our dogs play in the snow. I turned to my husband and confessed, “These dogs might be better than our kids.”

My husband, always the gentle diplomat, didn’t readily agree with me but I know he probably was thinking the same thing. Come on, it’s all the love and none of the drama. That’s hard to compete with.

Another resolution is to continue my Goldilocks like pursuit of finding the perfect red lipstick. Don’t scoff. This has been a 30 year mission that has to date alluded me. Red lipsticks either have too much blue or orange undertones thus making even the whitest teeth look like canned corn niblets.

My final 2020 pledge is to touch my toes. Yep, you read that right. In my entire life I have never been able to touch my toes. This is finally going to be the year.

I hope your 2020 resolution list is just as profound.