Let’s just sit back and unwind? No.

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Who says resolutions are only for the New Year? For many people, summer is when you really come alive and inspiration is abundant. Why not monopolize on this energy and make some goals for yourself?

Here’s what you do.

Choose 5 realistic goals for yourself. It helps if they’re measurable as this makes you more accountable for following through. You’ll notice I didn’t do this at all, but I really didn’t know how to make most of what’s up there measurable without tiptoeing into serious OCD land. So, for my sanity (and that of my loved ones), I didn’t.

Choose goals of things you love or once loved. You’ll stick to them this way. It’ll make your summer memorable regardless of how far your success goes. Fun is fun. I’ve chosen things like bike riding because nothing defines summer nostalgia better. Take good-for-you goals like exercise and eating better and spin them so that your stomach gets butterflies and not the willies.

Use asterisks only when necessary. I can’t have dairy, but I have an ice cream maker. I asterisked the ice cream goal because I will likely make most of this stuff for other people. You lucky, lucky people in my life. I will experiment with coconut and rice milk frozen treats, but only to a certain extent because you will notice the running/biking goals would kind of be at odds with massive ice cream consumption.

Fun it up. I found a fun pin up girl on a bike because she is the spirit I’m going for this summer. Please, though, coax me off my bike gently, sit me down and talk to me if I’m sporting a garter about town like that.

Post your resolutions somewhere. Blog it, Facebook it, tweet it, Instagram it, print it out and stick it somewhere. Look at it all the time. Once your people know about it, too, it’s out there and it’s real.

I invite you to create your summer resolutions! What’s been nagging at you that you want to deal with finally? Let’s do it!

A note on my resolutions (the full disclosure addendum to this go-get-em-tiger post):

1. I’ve fallen behind in my reading. And I’m a librarian. I’m in big trouble with myself if I can’t do this one. For this exercise, let’s say “summer” starts now and ends August 31.

2. We’ve discussed this. It’s going to be amazing.

3. I say “again” rather loosely. When I was little, I could be found to run across a playground at times. That was once. Now is again. See?

4. Breakfast and lunch have been vegetarian lately. I feel better. Life is good.

5. I want that bike, damn it.

Chelsea + Vodka

Makes a girl wanna take a nap.

2012 began with a book that’s been on my to-read list forever.  And a day.  And a bag of chips.  A long time.

My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler appeared on my radar in the spring of 2008 when she released Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea. I was working at a neighborhood branch and all sorts of readers were checking out her latest. It was as if –at the mention of alcohol and the allusion to a classic teen read—even book-club grandma was ready to try out this blondie on a lawn chair.

For me, I was interested but not enough to read her myself yet. At the time, I was reading a lot of memoir-y books about having babies since that was something I was considering at the time. Conversely, I was padding such weighty reading material with Martini Mondays and Mojito Tuesdays at my local watering holes at night, so I felt I was good on the vodka front as it was.

Still, I added her canon to my ever-elusive reading list and there it stayed.

Until I had to decide what to read first in 2012.  A classic? A best of 2011 pick? Something resolution-driven seemed most appropriate, but I’m 8 months pregnant and I’m not exactly hardcore hitting the gym or eating remarkably well and I had been craving a vodka tonic for the good part of 2011, so Chelsea it was.

And thank goodness. This book was exactly what I needed after months of feeling jolly and bouncy and, you know, righteous, for having created the best Christmas ever.  What I’m saying is, the only way to get off your high horse as the domestic goddess of Christmas is to have a drunken midget in a sombrero knock you off it.

The book would appeal to women and men alike and to people who like quick reads but also to those who can stretch out a book over a year (who are you!? return your library book already; people are waiting for it, creepy!). It probably won’t appeal to your book-club grandma. I mean, unless it does. I don’t know. I don’t know your grandma.

I finished this collection of hilarious-ridiculous short stories in no time and was sad to perhaps have to move on to another author. Luckily, the good librarian in me had chosen this title based on the fact that it was Chelsea’s first and I can now read more of her books. I can read more as if I didn’t just see the minute that I put down my Kindle that her written work is being adapted into a sitcom starring Laura Prepon as Chelsea and Chelsea Handler as her older sister Sloane (which I find to be brilliant bee-tee-double-yoo).  I am thrilled to see these characters come to life on television. I have to be a nerd, though, and finish all her books before I can watch the show.

Maybe I can celebrate with a vodka tonic with extra lemon once I’ve completed Lies Chelsea Handler Told Me. Don’t worry, gasping folk, I’m kind of a slow reader.

I’ve heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but…

On the verge of becoming Kathleen Turner Overdrive

I sat peacefully at the ref desk, head cocked theatrically to one side, wondering if I could finagle a quick combo music-peddling trip to both Zia Records (they give more $) and then Bookmans tonight. I envision buckets of money being handed over the counters and me jogging to my car, not caring if I lose a couple dollars to the spring breeze.

When up walks this woman, shaking me out of my John Dorian daydream. She has remarkably peach lips. I can’t stop looking at them.
“Is there a record store in Phoenix called Via?”
Na uh.
“There’s one called Zia.”
“Is that what it’s called? A used record store?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so it’s Zia. I’ve heard they’re expensive, though, and this other one Brooks something…”
I Google it, but I know she means-
 “Bookmans?”
“Yes! I’ve heard they’re cheaper.”
This is true. And you are creepy.

I’d like to think I was talking to Eloise Hawking…

At work, I try to carry myself with a certain degree of professionalism. However, I have a pretty strong personality that frequently slips out and usually (thankfully), my customers don’t necessarily catch that I’ve, you know, quietly started singing inappropriate lyrics that are stuck in my head  (one of my most common ones is from Rent’s La Vie Boheme: “To sodomy, it’s between God and me, to S&M!” Just right out loud. At Safeway. In the soup aisle.)

Usually, though, my slip-ups don’t feature religion or sexual practices, but they are just normal, off-the topic stuff.

Like today.

Caller: Hello, I need to see if you have a book.
Me: Sure, what’s the title?
Caller: Awakening by Matthew Bolton. It’s about a paraplegic.
Me: Okay, not finding that, but I do have Awakening by an S.J. Bolton; it’s a mystery.
Caller: It is a mystery.
Me: Oh, good, could this be it?
Caller: No,  it’s a mystery because I thought his name was Matthew.
Me: (polite laugh) Oh, I see. Okay, may I read you the rest?
Caller: Sure.
Me: Awakening by Wendi Corsi Staub, Awakening by Robin Wasserman, Awakening by –that’s weird– Kate Austin.
Caller: That is weird.
Me: Sorry, I just…
Caller: No, it is! Lost! You’re a Lostie too. We’re lost.
Me: (real laugh) Yeah, sorry, but weird. Of course, it’s a romance.
Caller: That’s funny!
Me: Okay, any of these?
Caller: No… (still laughing)
Me: I’ll check Amazon. I’m searching “Matthew” and “Awaken” to get all– Whoa.
Caller: What? Did you find it?
Me: (pause) Not exactly. (another pause) I’m  not finding it. Do you think you could get a little more information and call us back?
Caller: (quietly, like she knew what I saw) Sure.
click.

This, my Losties, is what came up on Amazon. Gave me the freaking chills. Unless it was a set up. In which case, whoever you are, you’re mean.

Daddy issues...