I am beginning to think all of one’s life can be told through the setting and breaking of resolutions.
I started to think about this while frying doughnuts for breakfast. I have recommitted to low carb now that the holidays are over—but I am not very good at self-discipline, and my only rule is keep it below 100 grams of refined carbs. So doughnuts are not technically off limits as long as the rest of the day is not wanton.
And fresh doughnuts—fried on the stove top while the coffee perks and the baby runs around, drained on your own paper towel, dusted in cinnamon and sugar, served warm with coffee and a juicy clementine or two—are just worth it to me.
There is something sumptuous, a unique and irreplaceable experience, about real food eaten slowly, thoroughly enjoyed. I blame the library book, the truly terribly titled Life is Meals by James and Kay Salter, that I picked up two days ago. The endless descriptions of freshly made caesar salad dressing and intimate dinner parties and charmingly random tidbits of culinary history are driving me to drink. And food. Literally.
It’s ok. It’s a nicely solid, oppositional bookend for my low carb manifesto living. If I can exist somewhere between the two, I’ll be a happy camper since I love food almost as much as my body clearly loves being lower carb.
But low carb is only one of the good lines I aspire to toe. There are other areas of my life (and house) that require some attention. For example, when you greet your spouse in the evening with a calculated Notice anything different? and the correct answer is you both got dressed today it’s probably time to work a bit on the old home/life routines.
I actually had a good cleaning routine going for a while, thanks to my handy (and aptly named) HomeRoutines app. We got derailed when Iris was learning to walk. She was no longer happy in the carrier or in her bouncy seat, but she wasn’t mobile enough to keep up. Now she’s confident enough on her feet to do a little independent play while I sweep or wash windows… as long as I’m quick.
And we have our evening routines too. Two weeks of scratchy throats and runny noses bungled that one. But I’ve started to get a few of my evenings back, and Carl is planning to start back at the gym next week. Hopefully I’ll be able to get back in a writing groove soon.
It’s a work in progress.
In the mean time we snap pictures and munch doughnuts and cultivate an appreciation for the now, the things-that-are, the half-finished and well-intentioned and maybe-somedays.