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1.  Make a list.    Check X

2.  Clean out closets and drawers.

3.  Don’t do laundry for weeks and all the closets and  drawers look much neater.  Check X

4.  Buy new underwear.  Check X

5.  Add five thousand more steps a day.

6.  Add five thousand more steps a day only on the weekend.

7. Put Fitbit on dog and declare victory.  Check X

8.  Go through recipes and find exciting, nutritious foods to cook.

9.  Clean out expired food in fridge.

10.  Marvel that pickles last forever and are considered a side dish.  Check X

11.  Decide fridge is too clean to mess up.  Make reservations.  Check X

12.  Get a jump on the holidays.  Name a star after everyone.  Check X.   (They’ll love it!)

13. Make New Years resolutions.

14.  Resolve to find an actual check mark on the keyboard.

15.  Resolve never to make a dumb list.  Check X

Before you screw up your face and think that is a ridiculous statement (#brilliantboomlennial) give it a second of big world thinking.  There’s the obvious, yep out of the playoffs again.  Yep, you’re fired.  Yep, you suck.  But then there’s the sneaky stuff.  You’re out on the little big town and having a great time.  Do you decide to go because you’re having too much fun?  Nope.  You stay until things start taking a downward turn #gettingtiredgettingdrunkgettingbored or maybe the opposite of all that.  In which case you stay until you clean some of that up.  Stay with me here.  Everything’s ‘jumping the shark’ these days which I don’t get what it has to do with sea creatures but it’s about things that go on just a bit too long.  TV series that are no longer entertaining but try to squeak out another year, ending on a low note.  Then there’s the great series like the Sopranos that could have continued but had a terrible fade to black last episode, also ending badly.  The seasons?  Summer great!  End of summer….shriveled flowers, green pool, brown lawn.  Ending badly.  Winter….beautiful  white snow turning into dirty everything.  If you are still reading you know where this is going.  Or not.  #endingbadly

The trouble with being a Boomlennial is you just know too much.  Not only the rules, but the exceptions.  The winds of change Change, and I can’t wait.  While this political and social climate have seemed to reach a new level of absurdity, I’m sure a person with too much time on their fingertips could find many instances where we are just recycling through the past.    ‘Endless repetition of the same basic pattern’.    So true and about the only thing I remember from college.  Be grateful I’m not a doctor.  Oops.  Ok a real one that wears white year round, a major fashion faux pas.  I’ve tried to keep fake news and politics off this space because it’s quite redundant and not very interesting anymore and I know it will blow away soon enough good riddance.  However…..the Boomlennial by nature likes to keep in the mix.  And I have pretty strong opinions on everything.    E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.   So let it be known that I am pro-eggnog.  I’m willing to listen to your arguements and retaliations, but I stand or kneel or pour a shot of Jack into my convictions.  Cheers.

 

You are a pink Starburst.  Remember that!  The Boomlennial woman has been put under a lot of pressure throughout the decades.  We were the first generation of women who were expected to work outside the home.  And we needed it and wanted it or fell under the spell of it all.  Our mothers made housekeeping a fulltime job and it probably was.  They hung the laundry outside on the clothesline.  On Monday.  The whole neighborhood.  On Monday.  They actually cooked meals everyday,  all day,  like three of them.  What’s that about?  Most families in my hood only had one car, so they didn’t spend a lot of time at the mall, the non-existent mall, or running the kids around, or finding ways to get ‘out of the house’.  The Boomlennial woman found lotsnlots of ways to get her enlightened buttocks OUT.  Staying at home all day was just not a good fit.  Thus began the battle between the ‘working’ mother and the ‘stay at home’ mother.  The WM said I have to work to make ends meet and because I’m brilliant and really enjoy my job and I’m really good at it.  And I’m a pink Starburst.  And the SAHM said I want to take care of my kids and I don’t need another car and my job is a fulltime one and I’m brilliant.  Also a pink Starburst.  What we didn’t realize at the time tho is that it all just fell to the woman.  All that bringin home the bacon and fryin it up in a pan and never lettin him forget he’s a man who should be pickin up the slack here and wipin up the grease and snotty little noses boom!   But we did teach the next generations how to mix the worlds and parenthood and how to share.  It’s also not easy being green.  Just ask Kermit.

Yep.  I heard it.  You said I was right.  And I have witnesses.  It has taken way too long for you to understand that I know everything and eventually something I’ve learned over the course of a lifetime might actually have some merit.  And no it’s not my manfriend because he’s intuitive enough to know that the Queen is always right and nothing can be gained from thinking otherwise.  Off with your head!  So no names please but it kind of sounds like one of those new sugars that are good/not good for you but makes you think that maybe/maybe not they are.  The Boomlennial knowssss thingssssss.  Experience is a great textbook if you can throw out the facts and figures and just do a gut check.  The stomach has a way of sending clues to the truth and sometimes takes over when the mind just needs a break.  We had to be resourceful.  Our parents actually had a life and didn’t look to us for entertainment.  I love hearing today’s parents saying they were so busy all weekend because they had soccer and cheerleading and lacrosse and football and dance and things that I know they are too out of shape to do and probably never did but somehow they’ve taken ownership of the fun and games. But you are just a spectator.  Which is fine but sometimes don’t you have the feeling like you want to play too??  Except golf because that’s just boring. So you see I’m right again.  And I knowww thingssss.  I can help you not Truvia.

Or not.  Just when I think this Boomlennial is overflowing with wise nuggets of worthless info that everyone is clamoring for I realize I got nothin.  My mind might be shooting in a hundred different directions with hurricanes, satellites that I don’t understand, and beach vacations that I do understand now more than ever, but nothing Boomlennial worthy.  We still need a bit of Zing to keep our interest and I don’t think my theory on the locust invasion as the next unnatural disaster will pull you in.  Just trying to keep your attention here and waiting for some brilliance to overtake me.  Not happening.  But do come back.  #locustsouprecipe

Don’t Wanna Know.  Don’t Wanna Care.

I saw this sign in a bar in Montana and took a picture of it which was kind of pathetic in it’s own right since I was surrounded by beautiful scenery in 3D and didn’t take many shots (oh yes I did).  Did I say I was in a bar in Montana?  Anyway,  bars are where all the great world philosophers hang out.  And they get wiser as the evening wears on, and better looking BTW.  Until they also think they can dance and end up looking like Elaine from Seinfeld.  Time to go.  But the sign stuck with me as a reminder that sometimes you just have to hit the ‘pause’ button.  Most Boomlennials have big lives.  Big families, or little families that seem like big families.  Big jobs, or big thoughts on looming retirement and what to do about that.  Or not.  Appointments with doctors, lawyers, and Indian Chiefs.  Important stuff, or trivial sh*t that we treat as important sh*t.  And it all just makes us care too much about sh*t.  We no longer have one calendar hanging in the kitchen, but another always at our side sending out pings and pongs notifying us that something oh-so-important is happening Beware!  Which is great when your football pick is due, but not so great when yoga starts in fifteen minutes and you are trying to pretend like you forgot about it.  Which just happened and now I’m feeling like I probably should just go to yoga instead of rattling on about sh*t.  Don’t care, don’t wanna care.  Namaste.

What a great word!!  After you write a blog instead of hitting enter or post or some other benign word you touch Publish and voila.  You are a ‘published’ author and I like it.  It’s the little things….

Ok those last two words were totally unnecessary.  I’ll give you a minute for a huh and a brief chuckle.  Over the years I imagine we have all tried to run for what ever reasons.  Weight loss, fitness, an excuse to buy new shoes, to be able to join in lively reparte at a cocktail party, and of course because we are basically pack animals and everyone was doing it.  And some actually liked it which still baffles me.  But now?  Most of those hardcore runners are facing some hardcore truths.  Some of those body parts weren’t really made for that constant pounding and are ready for the scrap heap.  Hip, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes.  Hip, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and okay you get it.  And just try not to continue singing it in your head.  Eyes and ears and….. So back to not running.  I am finally glad that I didn’t enjoy one second of it and was content to do lots of other fun, physical things that hopefully spared my original pieces and parts while providing some health benefits.  I can walk in Forrest Gump’s path and feel great in mind and body afterward.  My Fitbit tells me I’ve walked the Paris subway system and from San Fran to Seattle and lotsnlots of other fine destinations but I don’t feel like I’ve abused myself.  Although the runners high might have been lacking, the walking got/gets rid of a lot of demons and cobwebs and that is  a benefit that isn’t as sexy as a high, but having your original knees has a certain amount of sex appeal.  Or maybe I’m still feeling guilty for not running….

Now that my followers are up to hundreds, if not millions, I realize my B- game is gone.  Probably stolen by the eclipse.  When you start out with an A game it’s ok when shorter days start zapping your best hours.  But as little T would say ‘this girl is a problem’.  There are the morning and the night people.  But this Boomlennial is only good between ten and two.  In the summer.  When the sun is giving me energy and a tan and lotsnlots of vitamin D.  No brittle bones here my friends.  But now the days are getting shorter and I’m fading like the tan.  The farmers have this one down.  Sun you up. Sundown you down.  Got it.  And so does my mind but it’s expected to keep going.  All the live long day.  Whatever that means but I bet you Boomlennials know the song about working on the railroad.  Which we don’t. I just need to find a different oomph.  Yes that’s a word.  Pumpkin spice everything??? Why do we all seem to want this now?  Of course if it comes in an M&M that question is answered.  Scary costumes.  For adults. Which is what really makes that scary.  Houses decorated with tombstones and fiberglass hanging from bushes and orange lights.  Always fun.  Bonfires ok if you like that smell.  In your hair.  Tomorrow.  Not quite getting that boost I’m looking for.  So don’t leave me yet.  I do know that this will be the next season of dreams for the Browns and I will be rahrahing all over the place.  And I’ll be obnoxious.  And will have nothing but oh-so-fascinating commentary.  Which I know is nuts but ‘wait till next year’ has to arrive sometime, right?  Going to milk the cows now…..