The year without a Christmas letter...Part 1

That would be 2012 (and 2010 too actually).

I just got incredibly sad that I didn't send my annual Christmas letter this year.  I guess it's true that I'm a more productive person when hassled/nudged/hinted at by my husband to get something done.  Like the Christmas cards.  And, the Christmas letter.  I think I might surprise you all by sending something like a Groundhog's Day card instead...so beware.

Anyway, I'm sad because I like reading my old Christmas letters just like I sometimes like reading my old blog posts.  It's like looking at Reader's Digest condensed version of the year.  If I had written a Christmas letter for 2012, or finished might be a better way to put it as half of a letter is on the computer at home, it would have featured these topics:  college planning, driving lessons, ballet, lacrosse, and the quirky trip Mary Rollins, Will and I took up the east coast. 

Sixteen is a big year.  Bigger in ways I never anticipated.  Sixteen means driving lessons which leads to increased independence which means I went through a period of nervously biting my nails hoping that my children arrive safely together at high school.  Technically, that period is ongoing.  Does it ever end?  Oh, and I should mention that I have two children high school -- so simple to say, "both my children are at Henry Clay" and yet high school life is anything but simple.

The end of MR's high school years are rushing at us.  We attended college fairs, began talking about majors and have begun actual schools.  I registered MR for the ACT (fun stuff here...apparently she should have registered for the ACT herself but she was, of course, at ballet and didn't have time because we waited too late for her to do it for herself.  it turns out when you register for the ACT you complete oodles of interest inventories.  Personally, I think Will and I did a great job filling out her interest questionnaire.  For example: (actual questions) would you enjoy trimming hedges and trees:  NO.  Would you enjoy watching a forest for fires? NO  Would you enjoy writing a Broadway review? YES.  I read these questions aloud to Will who cracked up and asked me if I was making them up. It was fun...too bad Mary Rollins wasn't there to answer her own questions.  When I told her later that I'd completed her career-interest inventory for her, I thought she might be a little freaked out.  I told her she could go back and change them but she decided I probably got all the answers right.  Who knew?  She described herself to someone recently as "more of an English person" and in perhaps what might be one of the nicest compliments I've ever had as a mother, "there are worse people to be like than you."  Oh well, so much for having a daughter who will be fabulously wealthy and take care of me in my old age but at least we have a lot in common.  I guess I'd better keep working.  Or, maybe she'll marry well.  Or, maybe we've done a better job with Will and he can take care of all of us in our old age.

And here is the list of colleges of interest:  Brown, Elon, Furman, Belmont, Colgate, Vassar, Sewanee, the University of Richmond, and Transylvania.  So far we've been to Elon (loved it) and High Point (no longer on above list).  And, what does she want to major in?  Art History/Arts Administration, English or maybe some sort of social science.  Perhaps one day, she'll work for Sotheby's, the auction house as opposed to Sotheby's the real estate company.

So, that is all for today for a year without a Christmas letter.  Perhaps, there'll be a part 2 tomorrow.  Or, the next day.  Check back and see.

Oh, and the real reason I never got the Christmas card done wasn't because of a lack of nagging, it was actually because I could never get an "acceptable" photo.  Acceptable photos were described to me as, one where "I am not wearing a helmet, a life vest, or a bun.  My hair is brushed and I look pretty.  Like the Brumleys Christmas card.  Why can't we have a card like that?  Why do we always have to be 'doing something!'"

Alas, can I help it if the Mathews are a little more fun than a staged photo?      





   

The Willpower Instinct

My first post in over a month is about willpower and it’s still early January.  You probably think it’s going to be one of those New Year’s Resolution posts, don’t you?

Well, it’s not that kind of post.

It is, in fact, a book review!  Of Kelly McGonigal’s newly released book The Willpower Instinct:  How Self-Control Work.  Why It Matters. And What You Can Do to Get More of It for the BlogHer book club.  Which to be honest, January is a pretty good time to read a book about willpower and self-control even though I didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions this year. 

I read this book with some trepidation as I don’t normally read self-help books .  And, yet, as I read The Willpower Instinct, I found myself nodding my head in agreement, puzzling over a lot of the truths about self-control, dog-earing pages, and writing little notes in the margins like “my mom should read this.”  Ultimately, I determined that as far as self-help books go (and yes, it is a self-help book) it was pretty darn fascinating.  It reminded me of one of my favorite grad school classes.  McGonigal’s writing was insightful, engaging and relevant whether or not I think that I personally have willpower challenges.

While I read the book on warp speed since I was on a schedule for the BlogHer book club, the author, a Stanford University psychologist who teaches a course called “the Science of Willpower,” suggests that the book be read in in increments over a longer period of time and that readers gradually implement the advice she proffers and undertake the self-control exercises.  I think her advice is sound.  I enjoyed reading this books much that I think that I’m going to go back and read it again if I don’t pass it on to someone else first.    In spite of only reading it for what I shall call academic reasons, I found myself identifying areas where I fail at self-control (looking at boots on Zappos) and areas where I succeed (exercise).

 

Dr. McGonigal says that people love resolving to change.  If you're one of those people that loves making resolutions but struggle with the follow-through, perhaps taking a gander at The Willpower Instinct might help you make your New Year's resolution a true lifestyle change.  Or, if you want to just enjoy the fun of resolutions, you can join one of the Blogher Bookclub's discussions of The Willpower Instinct.  After all, you don't have to make a change to talk about changing.

 

And for the record while I was compensated by Blogher for this review, the opinions expressed are entirely my own -- always are and always will be!  Now that's a resolution that doesn't take much willpower...

 

My new computer

Sometimes I think I'm the most indecisive person on the planet when it comes to buying things for my office.  It took me two years to commit to just an office chair!  I recently decided that I really had to buy a desktop computer and so I deliberated endlessly about what to get, tried to get people to go to Best Buy with me to look at them, searched various computers from my iPad, my iPhone, my laptop, and the home computer (which somehow I managed to buy in about 15 minutes without any angst after our old computer died).  And, then I woke up early one morning last week and I swear some elf had left open a window in Amazon on our home computer with exactly what I wanted and it was even on sale.  I clicked BUY and there it was in my office the next day.  My computer was there  as fast as Zappos shoes arrives and if you've ever ordered from Zappos you know that's fast.

So here's a photo of my new office computer.  It's beautiful.  It makes me want to work at my office.  It even has a touchscreen.  You're impressed, aren't you.  

 



And as my beloved godmother would have said, "That is all."

 

Multi-tasking

I've always thought I was pretty accomplished at multi-tasking. Clearly, Will is my child as he walks the treadmill, plays Xbox and listens to an audiobook! I'm so proud.

I think Jeremy from Zits would be proud, too.

We're going for a walk, right?

This is the morning face of Cleo. It's so bad that even when it's 6:15 am and I am leaving for my run, she looks at me like this.

This is the "We're going for a walk, right?" Face.

It's so expectant and happy and irresistible.

She keeps making that face at me all day long until we go for our walk.

Needless to say, we go for a walk almost everyday.

What are you doing today?

Marc took Will to school this morning because I had an 8 am closing and MR (Will's new school chauffeur) is off at the Domain for Happening.  It always throws off the day a bit when Marc hangs out during our morning school prep routine because he asks so many questions like "Are you going to make Will's lunch?"  Yes.  "Are you sure you have time for a run?"  Yep.  "Don't you have a closing at 8?"  Yes, don't worry I have plenty of time.  And the worst question, "what's on your schedule, today?"  That question always makes me nervous because I have this feeling that Marc thinks I could use my time more wisely.  Well, I have a closing at 8, and need to turn in my paperwork at the office, and I have to meet TJ at the house on Waco at 2 and pick up a key to a house, I have to work on my mailing list and maybe write a blog post.  And, check out my latest obsession Atlantic-Pacific.  I love this blog and I want to be friends with Blair
Eadie so that I can borrow some of her clothes.  I'd let her borrow mine, too, if she wanted. 

So, I actually stopped my recounting of my schedule at "work on my mailing list" and before I got to "write a blog post."  Blogging falls into the perhaps-you-could-use-your-time-more-wisely category.

Turns out, he only asked what I was doing because he was meeting some friends for lunch and wanted to know if I'd like to go too.  Fortunately, I do have time but only because I use it so wisely.

Anyway, happy Friday!  And, if you have time check out Atlantic-Pacific. 

P.S. If anyone wants to buy me this cute Madewell sweater, go right ahead.

     

Driving

Mary Rollins is off taking her driver's test. Crazy, huh?

Seems like just yesterday that I let her ride her bike up the street to her piano teacher's house by herself.

Tomorrow begins a whole new lifestyle.

Holy Terriers

It’s hard to imagine that this year’s Blessing of the Animals could exceed the chaos of last year’s event, but it did.  I could tell as we approached the courthouse steps lined with the choir and banners of our church and my dogs were barking furiously that we were off to a very bad start.  Will accompanied me this year.  He didn’t really want to go but his presence involves another story regarding teenage boy chaos and let’s just say that he could have gone with me or gone with his dad to visit his grandmother at the nursing home.  On this day, he chose me. 

To start with Will had one dog, I had the other.  He initially wanted the beast we refer to as the good dog (Howie).  I reminded Will that in public, there is very little difference between our good and our bad dog and that Cleo (bad dog) could have been the better choice.   He took Howie anyway and naturally Cleo pooped on the sidewalk along Upper Street.  I was prepared with a bag and so I had my dog and bag of poop and Will had his dog and no poop as we made our way from the church parking lot to the service being held at the old Courthouse and Farmer's Market.  Maybe Will did make the better choice although I suspect regardless of whose poop it was, Will would have left it for me to pick up. 

There was a tremendous amount of pulling on leashes and a horrendous amount of barking as we proceeded downtown.   Heads turned as we arrived just in time for the beginning of the blessing.  Our presence was acknowledged by all – by some with smiles, by some with frowns, with much barking from their four-legged counterparts and with tears from a small baby.  Truly, my dogs even made small children cry.  I had a flash of being the parent with a child throwing a tantrum in the grocery store check-out line.  I could feel myself as an object of scorn, pity, and comic relief.  And, I am certain there were those people who viewed me with thankfulness, realizing how grateful they were that their own dogs were so much better behaved.   I like to think my dogs' behavior can't  be helped and their Jack Russell terrierosterone gets the better of them but there were other Jack Russells there minding their manners.  Better owners, perhaps…

In another flash, this time of self-pity, I was sorry I had come, I was sorry I hadn’t brought our cat instead who surely needs a blessing as much as our dogs do.  And, I was envious of people with dogs that can be taken out in public.  Thanks to this darn Blessing I was coveting my neighbor's dog!  But, I picked Howie up during the St. Francis prayer and he stopped barking and gave a little Amen at the end.  He tried to sing along with the choristers and Cleo settled down a bit to only barking once every 7 seconds or so.  As the prayers ended and the individual pet blessings began, Cleo and Howie had their special blessing from our Deacon, Paula.   The Holy Water didn’t sizzle when it touched them which I took as a positive sign.  It was a little easier to remember why we had come.  For a few moments, at least.

Chaos resumed post-blessing.   While I was talking to Father Brent, Howie christened his leg and shoe with a sprinkle of his own.  On the list of embarrassing things that can happen, having your dog pee on your priest’s shoe gets a pretty high ranking.  On the bright side, you can make a lot of good jokes about being baptized in the name of Dog and marking someone as his own forever.  Because things weren't bad enough, Cleo, pulling on her leash, spilled coffee down my sweater.  Will walked away like he didn't know us and pretended that he had a gently behaved Labrador retriever he'd left at home.

Last year on the Sunday after the Blessing, Rev. Carol gave a lovely sermon that drew inspiration from another parishioner's Labrador retriever mix that had laid his head on her foot after the blessing.  I remember thinking , no offense to Carol, but preaching the Gospel of the Labrador Retriever is pretty easy: loving everyone, falling asleep in the midst of chaos, waiting patiently for your master to tell you what to do next.   I want someone to preach about the natural spirituality of Jack Russell Terriers.

I've mentioned this to several priests and so far, not a one has been up to the task.  I've noticed though that they all seem to have a bit of a bias toward larger, mellower dogs.  So, perhaps it's up to me to preach the Gospel of Jack Russell which is about joy, exuberance and an over-abundance of blessing.  Theirs is a world that is meant to be barked at, chased after and, if at all possible, captured and had all goodness shaken out of it.  Our earthly home is not all good as evidenced by the exceeding abundance of squirrels and chipmunks and Jack Russells call us to be ever faithful and persistent in battling the evil vermin that populates our backyards and sidewalks.  Jack Russells are compact, faithful, persevering, confident, focused, bossy and bustling with energy.  They are never, ever, easy-going or laid-back and they always have the energy and enthusiasm for whatever life demands.
.
In real life, I am probably not a Jack Russell Terrier.  The last time I took one of those "dog personality quizzes" it said if I was dog I'd be a Norwegian Elkhound.  But maybe because I'm not a Jack Russell myself, I can appreciate all they are that I am not and I could use a good dose of telling you what I really think in a loud, persistent bark. I often think that if Marc took the dog personality quiz (which he would never do because that would be a frivolous waste of time like reading blogs), he'd probably be a Jack Russell.  I am thankful for the Jack Russells of the world.

And, I'm also thankful that you can't be excommunicated for the things your dogs do.  But, next year, we're taking the cat.
 

Will and a friend's better behaved Jack Russell puppy, Emma. 
Take note Cleo and Howie!

There's Brent on the side.  I think this was after
Howie peed on him but before Cleo spilled the coffee

I think the view of the dogs speaks for itself.

exhausted on the way home.

10 ways to keep your house for sale longer

There are lots of tips for selling a house quickly but here's some simple advice to make sure your house stays on the market for as long as possible:


For scary dog maximum effect,
I suggest Pit Bulls (actual dog
encountered while showing property.
He wanted us to die).



10. Have big scary dogs that you leave in the house during showings.

9.  Make it as difficult as possible to show (this could be a whole subset of tips, I suppose, like make sure that it can only be shown when the listing agent can show it to another agent, limit the hours it can be shown, have a daysleeper sleeping there...).

8.  Smoke in your house.

7.  Have lots of candles burning everywhere in the house because nothing says I smoke in a house like having lots of candles and potpourri.  Plus it gives many buyers (and their agents) actual headaches while they are in your house.

6.  Clutter.  Have lots of it. 

5.  Don't make the bed, wash the dishes, or put your dirty underwear in the laundry hamper.

4.  Keep interior bedroom doors padlocked preferably with wildlife behind them.'

3.  Turn off all the utilities because you aren't living there anymore. 

2.  Don't leave when the house is being shown.  In fact, be especially lurky and follow the prospective buyers around.

1.  Price the home really high.  In fact, base your price on what you think your house was worth two or three years ago and not on what your real estate agent tells you.

Nutcracking mornings

It hardly seems possible that it's already Nutcracker season but although my summer flowers are still holding on and Mr. Bones has only just appeared on the front door, my day is starting with a little Christmas-y Tschaikovsky.  This year's morning of Nutcracker preparation has a new twist.  Instead of just watching a retrospective of past year's DVDs or listening to the music on the iPod speakers, Mary Rollins watches a couple of videos I made with my iPhone during a rehearsal for last year's Corbin show.  Conveniently she's reprising her role as Marzipan and will be the demi-solist for Flower and may be the First Flake in Snow.  For knowledgeable Nutcracker watchers, the First Flake (my name not theirs and not to be confused with the lovely Snow Queen) is when the one lone dancer from the Corps spins out on the stage at the very beginning of the dance.  How did Mary Rollins achieve First Flake?  Because thanks to her obsessive Nutcracker watching, when it was asked during rehearsal if anyone knew that part, there she was ready to go.  She taught the rest of the choreography to all the new flakes, too. 

Mary Rollins has decided post-Governor's School for the Arts that as much as she loves ballet, she doesn't want to major or minor in ballet in college. To quote, "I can't imagine wearing pointe shoes eight hours a day for my job."  Apparently, that's the real telling point for a future ballet career.  She claims that it doesn't really matter whether or not the college she chooses has ballet or even a dance program (and no, having a "dance team" is not the same as having dance) but being a mom and knowing better,  I think she would miss it.  And so, as I research colleges for Mary Rollins (she has officially hired me as her educational consultant), I find myself looking to see if colleges have dance programs (preferably ballet) or at least their town a real ballet company that would offer adult classes and put on Nutcracker. Why?  Because even though she can't imagine being on pointe eight hours a day, she also can't imagine a life without Nutcracker.  She'll do whatever it takes to be in the Nutcracker, even if it means being a party parent.



Last year's rehearsal of Snow.  I love the little snow flurries off to the left watching
the Snow Corps.  A friend of ours who is a retired ballerina told us that hearing the Nutcracker
music brings on a minor panic attack.  I'm afraid that in the future MR and her friends will
burst into bittersweet tears of longing.

Trader Joe's...the post

This summer my beloved Lexington finally became home to its very own Trader Joe's.  It was an exciting time.  I'd say I'm exaggerating when I say exciting but it actually was.  I swear people camped out the night before the opening so that they could be first in line.  That's right, camped out like they were waiting for UK basketball tickets.  

I was pretty enthusiastic myself about our new Trader Joe's.  As consumer-worldly as I like to believe I am, I had never been to Trader Joe's.  But, I knew OF Trader Joe's.  Many a client moving to Lexington, bemoaned that as charming as our fair city is, we had pretty sad grocery shopping.  Many of these friends from more cultivated parts drive regularly to stock up on goods at the Cincinnati TJs.  For years, we could shop at Kroger and that was it.  Later, we could throw in Meier which is almost as pleasurable a shopping experience as Walmart Super Center.  I realize some people (my parents and some people I know who are originally from Ohio and Michigan, bless their hearts) love Meier but I only shop Meier's if I've hauled my parents there and need to use my time wisely.  Fortunately in the last few years, grocery shopping in Lexington has evolved to include both Fresh Market and Whole Foods and we have one of the best Farmers' Markets in the state.

In spite of my enthusiasm for the opening of Trader Joe's, it was several weeks before I finally had time to get there.  First, I delayed because I didn't want to go by myself.  Mary Rollins was at Governor's School for the Arts, Marc didn't want to go and I didn't even bother to ask Will.  Second, I was under the mistaken impression that you could only get to Trader Joe's from Nicholasville Road.  I detest Nicholasville Road shopping which would explain why I only go the Mall about three times a year and never shop at Whole Foods.

Finally, in mid-July my girl was home from GSA and we had time to go to Trader Joe's.  I think she was as excited as I was.  Off we went down Nicholasville Road.  She was driving, hooray, and there we were looking for the Trader Joe's entrance which is not quite on Nicholasville Road.  What joy to discover you can actually get to Trader Joe's without having to drive on Nicholasville Road at all!

One point for Trader Joe's.  They are so smart that they built their back to Nicholasville Road.  Trader Joe's had taken over the premises of a defunct restaurant coincidentally named Joe's Crab Shack.  I never visited Joe's Crab Shack when they were open, probably because they were on Nicholasville Road.  I must put in a disclaimer at this point that my favorite Thai restaurant in town, Planet Thai, is on Nicholasville Road which is a testament to how much I love Planet Thai -- it's no Khao Sarn in Brooklyn but still, it's pretty darn tasty! 

Point two for Trader Joe's, there were grocery carts and you didn't have to rent them.  I swear that someone told me you had to rent the grocery carts at Trader Joe's.  I had told Mary Rollins this and she told me that was one of the stupider things she'd ever heard.  She was right, I am stupid.  You do not have to rent the grocery carts at Trader Joe's.  Maybe I dreamed it along with the necessity of traveling on the N Road to get there.

We found many lovely little things at Trader Joe's:  hand made tortillas, nice pasta, lots of organic dairy products and Cookie Butter.  Cookie Butter.  I don't have the words to describe cookie butter except to summarize the label which says something like, "you have to taste it to understand" which I pointed out to Rev. Janey sounded like one of her sermons on the Eucharist.  Not to be sacreligious but the Gospel of Cookie Butter could be the basis for an oustanding sermon.

In spite of cookie butter and the great location, I was underwhelmed.  I really thought that having Trader Joe's in Lexington would change my life.  It didn't.  Even cookie butter didn't change my life, only how my jeans fit.   Disappointingly, I thought I could live without Trader Joe's just like I can live without Fresh Market and have lived quite well without Whole Foods as a part of my life (which is good as it's on the N Road).  TJs wasn't as big, or granola, or as cool as I was led to believe.  I don't think I would make a special trip to Cincinnati for Trader Joe's which I would do for Costco. 

Then, we went a second time and maybe that's the catch, it's the second visit that does you in.  I've been told that smoking pot is like that -- nothing happens the first time, but the second time you start to feel it.  The second time we went to Trader Joe's, I knew what I wanted: more cookie butter -- that first jar went so quickly, more pasta, more delicious yogurt, some sushi and those handmade tortillas that turned about to be fabulous.  And, then we went a third time in Cape Cod and bought perfect things for a picnic on the beach: luncheon meat, yummy cheese, great bread, fruits and delicious lemonade and cookie butter.  Two weeks ago, I went to buy things for a cocktail party I was hosting and suddenly, I'm a believer! I came home with two bags full of things I needed for my party that were better and cheaper than I could have gotten at the regular grocery.   A few days after my party, I was at another party (I really don't party all the time, I promise), drinking a lovely sparkling wine from Trader Joe's that my friend said was only $5.  It occurred to me that I'd never even ventured into the wine shop.  And there we were, standing around talking about all the unparalleled things we love at Trader Joe's.

I guess I just had a bad first date.  Sometimes that happens.  You've heard the hype, you have the expectations and then your world is still firmly planted on its axis--nothing changed.  You give it a a second chance and there you go...it's love. 

PS we avert our eyes when we walk past the cookie butter. It's a banned substance in our house.

Real Estate Week Friday -- except isn't it Saturday?

That's the way things go in real estate.  You never have the same day twice (which is one of my favorite things) and the ability to adapt quickly to change is one of the best skills a Realtor can have.

I did have a lot of ideas for Friday's post which makes me think, perhaps I should go back to having  more real estate-related posts.  Real estate really is fascinating.  If it weren't, would there be a whole TV channel dedicated homes and gardens?  The only thing that seems to hold the same level of fascination for Americans as where they live has to be the food they eat.  I like food, too.  Last year, I had a great client, now friend Amanda, who is an executive chef.  We talked a lot as we searched for homes about being in professions that are so well (?) documented by reality television.  Sometimes, Marc will be watching a show on HGTV with some catchy title like "Nasty homes that should be torn down instead of put on the market." I told him I couldn't watch it because I'd been showing those houses all day.  He claimed I should look at it like professional development but I mentioned that he probably didn't want to come home after a long day and watch a reality show about university accounting.  

A few months back some client of mine were finalists for being on House Hunters.  I learned a lot from the application process just how un-real reality TV really is.  While the buyers have actually bought the home they select, they've already decided on the home before they are even selected to be on the show.  The other two homes are decoys -- chosen to throw off the viewers.  Sometimes the decoy homes aren't even ones for sale but random houses that meet some of the criteria for which the buyers were looking.  And, as much as I make fun of the show, it was a little disappointing not to be selected.  I hope it wasn't because my audition video was filmed by 15-year olds with an iPhone.  The casting director was very enthusiastic about us and she thought my clients' house hunting story was great but alas, the producers wanted to go in a different direction.

So, while I had good intentions yesterday, I spent the day instead, preparing an offer for some clients, showing a house that had just come on the market to a buyer that's been looking for the perfect home for years but still renting (one day we'll find the right house), doing some background research for some first-time home buyers I just met, and getting ready for a Sunday open house at 534 Chinoe.  All in all, a good day even without a blogpost.