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Even if you’ve been living under a rock (or maybe even a pile of your own junk), you’ve probably heard of Marie Kondo by now.  She had that annoyingly successful book a few years back.  She’s now starring in her own show on Netflix.  And she is the darling of thrift stores and used book stores the world over – because those shops are making a killing off of our Kondo-inspired collective tidying and the resulting donations. 

Marie has a method – tackle clothes, then books, then basically the rest of your crap.  But I don’t like to play by the rules.  Or at least I like to think I don’t.  So when the tidying bug bit me, I bypassed my closet and turned my eye directly to the pantry. 

It’s not awful.  But it could definitely be better.  

First, I motivated myself by buying bins and labels.  Again, this went against Marie’s code.  She instructs her accolytes not to purchase any organizational materials until they have fully completed the tidying process, because they might find usable boxes and bins already stuffed in a closet somewhere.  But, I reasoned, after making the investment in storage bins, there would be no turning back.  I would be forced to tidy the pantry. Forced to clean by Amazon Prime. 

Next, I pulled everything out (that trick I did get from Kondo) and spread it across the kitchen island.  

Marie’s method is to hold each item and ask yourself whether it sparks joy.  Because quinoa and oatmeal don’t exactly inspire joy in me, I followed a slightly different approach.  I picked up each item, but I asked instead whether it was expired (buh-bye, baking powder that was best before 2015) or unhealthy (see ya, Cocoa Puffs). 

Or sometimes both. I’m looking at you, last year’s Halloween candy.

 The expired food never even made it to the counter.  So that took care of 5 garbage bags of waste right there. I can’t believe I just admitted that.  Moving on.

Once the food landed on the island, I decided if it was something we had any business eating. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not tearing all sugar out of my family’s hands.  I don’t have the stamina to deal with a mutiny (which would be led by my Oreo-loving husband, btw).  But we can make a few changes. So I got rid of the worst offenders and made a mental note to switch a few more items to healthier options.  Then I went and wrote down an actual note to myself, because mental notes in my head are less likely to survive than Justin Bieber’s marriage.

Then I simply divided everything into categories (“Crackers,” “Bread,” and so on.  Turns out, we are definitely not a Keto family!) and placed it back on the shelves.  The things I wanted the kids to easily access went on the lower shelves, while the items I wanted them to ask an adult for help with found homes on higher shelves. So School Snacks went on the bottom, in the hopes that I can shift the immense mental load of remembering to pack a daily snack to my kiddos.  Their young brains are far better suited to that task.  And I placed baking supplies near the top, because I have seen what my kitchen looks like when my kids decide to have an unsupervised dessert-making competition.

My dear hubby says Marie Kondo is making a fortune from pedaling basic common sense.  Maybe so.    

But look at my pantry.  Isn’t it pretty? Didn’t my daughter do a nice job labeling all the bins?  Doesn’t it give you the impression that I’ve got everything under control? Now, whatever you do, don’t look in my closet!

P.S. I thought about adding some cushions or throw pillows on the floor, because my daughter recently decided to use the pantry as her refuge when we offend her somehow.  Such as by looking at her wrong. Or giving her a red cup instead of a blue one. Lord help us when she hits 13. And I’m not sure why she prefers the pantry over her comfortable bedroom.  Actually, that’s not true.  I do understand.  Because peanut butter.  🙂

They say you learn something new every day, right? So here’s the new thing you learned today: The oldest currently living houseplant on record is a 243-year-old Eastern Cape cycad.  

And I thought my plant was old.  I say “plant,” singular, because I have only one houseplant.  This is due to the fact that I have killed every other plant that has had the misfortune of coming under my domain.  Seriously, every single one. Well, nearly. One stubborn little aloe plant remains steadfast on my kitchen windowsill. It refuses to wither up and die, but I’m pretty sure it’s on its way out.

I’m obviously no expert, but I don’t think aloe is meant to be a cascading plant.  

Then there is this guy.  My houseplant.

I’m not even sure what kind of plant he is.  But he is obviously a hardy sort.  He is roughly 46 years old.  I know this because my parents received him for a wedding present, and they will be married 46 years come September.

He has been divided and repotted. He has been moved. He has been left without water for weeks at a time. My parents have the original plant. Or maybe I do.  He has been shuffled around so much that it’s hard to say. 

I have had a piece of the plant since college. In college, one of my roommates fed him coffee.  Come to think of it, I’m sure worse liquids fouled his soil when we lived in that old apartment off of Langdon Street.  Yet he survived.  He is a survivor, much like Logan the fish.  Yes, Logan lives on.

I never named my plant.  But I refer to him as a dude – it’s either that or he’s the most low-maintenance female on the planet. Actually, I like “Dude.”  That’s a fantastic plant name if I’ve ever heard one.  Done.

In any event, my parents’ incarnation of the plant looks a little, well, let’s be honest, healthier than Dude. They probably even water theirs.

They recently left me in charge of it when they migrated to Florida for the winter. Arguably not their smartest move.  (Leaving me in charge, I mean.  Going to Florida was quite intelligent.) But their plant probably won’t die on my watch.  This is good, because the standing joke was that my parents’ marriage would end the day the plant died.  At least, I think it was a joke. If not, talk about pressure! “Here, water my plant, and while you’re at it, keep my marriage alive.” Let’s hope that their plant is as hardy as Dude.

Dude reminds me that some things just continue on.  They persevere. He’s a good role model in that way.  And there is something comforting about him. I mean, if Dude can survive me, surely I can survive anything!

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Do you have an older-than-average houseplant? And how do you take care of it?  Do you talk to it?  Fertilize it?  At least water it semi-regularly? If so, you probably have some tips for me.

Happy 2019, everyone!  I took a bit of an extended holiday hiatus from my little blog. We did some traveling…

And we have a few other new projects up our idiomatic sleeve. But I am back, and I am ready to take on 2019.  

I love new beginnings.  I love the start of a new school year, but I love the start of a new calendar year even more.  Yes, maybe it’s an arbitrary new beginning, but still. There is just something so delicious about blank planner pages. Something so exciting about the opportunity to regroup.  Something refreshing about not having already screwed up the year royally. 🙂

January feels like the time to make things happen.  The world is your oyster right now, albeit a rather cold and bleak oyster, at least if you live in the Upper Midwest.  (To be fair, though, warm oysters don’t sound very appetizing, anyway.)

This could very well be your year. Or maybe 2018 was your year. If so, congrats.  But don’t sit back.  Make 2019 even better.

Set a couple of goals. They don’t have to be earth-shaking.  Maybe you want to run a marathon.  Maybe you want to walk around the block after dinner. Maybe you want to pay off your credit card.  Or your mortgage (or mine!). Maybe you want to drink more water, or maybe just better beer. Maybe you want to read to your kids more.  Maybe you want to watch all 5 seasons of Schitt’s Creek. I don’t know.  And I don’t really care.  No judgment here. You do you.

But I think it is important to have a road map.  There is great power in identifying and articulating your dreams.  There is even greater power in recording them.  Writing them down.

Even if you scribble your goals on a sticky note and then stuff the paper in a drawer and forget about it for a year, the simple fact that your goals exist out there, in the universe and in your junk drawer, makes them more likely to come into being. But you do need to physically write them, pen to paper.  Typing doesn’t work the same magic.

I don’t know exactly why this is.  Maybe it’s some sort of cosmic hocus pocus. More likely, writing your goals down might lodge them into your subconscious so that you are always working toward them, without even realizing it.  Perhaps there is another reason entirely. I don’t know.  I didn’t feel the need to study the science here.

The experts who do study these things will tell you that folks who write down their goals are more likely to achieve them by some percentage or another (These experts absolutely will not agree on the exact amount, however.  Have you noticed that the experts never seem to agree? Sometimes 3 out of 4 will agree, sometimes even 9 out of 10 will agree, but they just can’t all get on the same darn page.). The experts will probably also tell you to revisit your goals often and write them down repeatedly to achieve maximum benefit.  I won’t push that hard. Let’s be reasonable here.  I have laundry to do.

But there’s no good reason not to do it once, assuming you can find a pen and five minutes. I can tell you that the technique has worked for me in the past, even when I doubted its power. It really has helped me accomplish multiple things I never expected I would.

Some folks say that writing your goals down as if they have already happened makes them even more likely to come to fruition than just writing them down (e.g.,  “I am a marathoner” as opposed to “I am going to run a marathon” or “I only drink hoity-toity IPAs” instead of “I am going to drink better beer.”).  I don’t know if that holds true or not, as I personally haven’t tried it yet.  But, again, it can’t hurt.

So, I am off to write down “I am skinny and independently wealthy” 100 times.   🙂  Not really.  But wish me luck.

I didn’t know I could be so grateful for a tree. I mean, I love trees overall.  I appreciate their contributions to our environment.  We plant scores of them every year. I’ve seen The Lorax, after all, which I highly recommend.

But our entire family is just completely enamored of our Christmas tree this year.  It is ginormous.  Ridiculously ginormous.  Not “Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree” ginormous, but enough so that my son recently saw a perfectly normal-sized tree at my folks’ house and asked where the rest of it was.

Some people use fishing line to tie the tops of their giant trees to their living room walls.  My husband, being my husband, had another idea.  He built a 4′ by 3′ wooden platform, to which he then screwed the store-bought tree stand.  So far, so good.  The tree has remained upright.  The only problem is that they don’t make tree skirts big enough to cover our souped-up stand.  Fortunately, my husband and children refuse to use top sheets on their beds (I don’t understand their aversion, but pick your battles), so I have plenty of those lying around to do the job.

Now, as they say, size doesn’t matter.  And I’m pretty sure we would still be smitten with our tree if it were a fraction of its size.  I think it’s appeal has something to do with the fact that it is “unsheared,” which I didn’t know was a thing.  Nor did I know how much of a difference this made.  Our tree looks far more natural than trees of Christmases past, and the nonuniform branches make trimming the tree infinitely easier.  As in, we can actually hang the ornaments from the branches, rather than basically stuffing them into the tree.

Let me clear up a little something.  Ours is by no means a designer tree. It is a hodge-podge of popsicle-stick manger scenes and pretty glass balls, with the occasional salt-dough snowman thrown in for good measure.  There is a Precious Moments ornament from the year I was born – 1978 (Yes, this year I celebrate my 40th Christmas on this Earth).  But we have even older ornaments on our tree.  Some of my favorites are the wooden cut-outs my parents painted themselves back when they were first together and too broke to buy ready-made ornaments.

Then there are the shiny, silly ornaments that Dan and I purchased at Target for our first Christmas together (That was the infamous year that I supposedly abandoned him while he was lying in the mud sawing down our tree, by wandering off to the tree hut to claim my free hot cider.  I don’t remember this alleged event, but Dan still talks about it.  Every. Year.   Bless his muddy, hard-working heart.). There are a handful of lovely, fancy-schmancy ornaments from Christopher Radko, Swarovski or Old World Christmas.  We did not purchase these – they were gifts from folks who probably have trees much more pristine than our own.  Because, of course, we also have the kids’ ornaments.  They are made of the aforementioned salt dough and popsicle sticks, but also of construction paper, Legos, sequins and plastic beads.  And I love each and every one.  They all co-exist merrily in some miracle of holiday magic.

We add to our ornament collection every year.  I buy one ornament for each family member, something symbolizing their current interests or achievements.  This means we have everything from an Elsa figurine to a karate kid to a big ole buck hanging from our tree.  (If you have met my crew, you can probably pair the ornament to the family member.) On top of that, each of us gets to pick out one ornament when we visit the tree farm.  For the past 8 or 9 years, we have gone to Wild Rose Choose and Cut.  Honestly, to begin with, this was mostly because they mailed us a postcard with their address on it every year, so it was easy to find them.  We’re lazy like that. But we also love it there.  We love the hayride out to the fields and the hunt for the perfect tree.  We (especially poor Dan) love the hot apple cider. We love that everyone is just so happy to be there.  The holiday spirit virtually sparkles in the air.  Secret: It almost makes a person want to own a Christmas tree farm.  If said person didn’t already have their hands full.  Maybe someday…

The trees of the same variety are all the same price, whether your tree is over 14 feet tall, like ours, or a more reasonable 7 feet.  This means that a giant tree is a true bargain.  It also means that we end up spending more money on our new ornaments than we do on the tree itself.  Oh well.  Christmas memories are priceless, right?

And we are making memories.  Baylor, at 9 years old, came up and hugged me as we were decorating the tree and told me it was his favorite night of the year.  And, that, my friends, truly is priceless. Never mind that tree decorating was more of week-long endeavor than a single night this year.  Carving out time between the kids’ activities and our work schedules, a good seven days elapsed between choosing the tree and hanging the star.  That’s okay, though. It only extended the fun.

Speaking of fun, the kiddos thought it would be hilarious to place all 11 of our tree-shaped ornaments together on one branch.  Right smack in front of the tree.  They called it the “double-triple-double tree,” or some such nonsense.  Good thing our trusty scout elves, Pinky and Nilla, were supervising the decorating process. The elves *might* have performed a touch of rearranging before departing for their nightly trip to the North Pole that evening.  I can handle a hodge-podge, but apparently I need a well-balanced hodge-podge.  There are limits, folks.

Yes, limits. So…Dan lets the kids take turns hanging the star on top of the tree each year.  This seemed fine, in theory, especially when we were dealing with small, liftable children and trees of a more human height.  It is no longer okay.  This year was (please help me) Ryan’s turn.  And there was just no way she was getting to the top of that tree, short of an intricate system of pulleys and OSHA-approved harnesses.  Good sense (meaning me) just wouldn’t allow it.  So the star was hung in a middle-ish part of the tree and later relocated, probably also by those redecorating scout elves.

I didn’t go crazy with Christmas décor this year, mostly because our naughty puppy will chew to bits anything she can reach.  And that pup has ups. So anything counter-height or below is in jeopardy. Socks, gloves, bookmarks, jewelry, Tupperware, throw pillows, firewood, you get the idea. These items are all fair game.  She apparently thinks dog toys are for suckers.

Some things we do anyway. We always ditch our HOME sign for the holidays and replace it with NOEL.

And I always set up my Dickens Village.  My mom has given me one house each year since I turned 16.  You do the math. 🙂

Ryan loves to help me set up the village. However, this year, she was more interested in high-jacking a couple of the Dickens trees to make her Barbie house more festive.  I don’t think the Dickens residents minded.  They look pretty busy, anyway, between their caroling and cocoa drinking.

    

(Side note:  I know that A Christmas Carol is set in London, but I think my Dickens Village might actually represent Wisconsin.  In a totally unintentional, but also totally appropriate, move, I placed the gentleman lugging the barrel of beer directly outside of a cheese shop.  Might as well put a Packers jersey on him and call it good.  Well, maybe a Brewers jersey. 😉 )

 Happy holidays, folks!

Thanks to all these individuals, families across America will come together today to celebrate each other, watch a parade and/or a football game…and probably bicker a little.  Or at least throw around some good old-fashioned passive aggression. Nearly 88 percent of them will eat turkey, according to (naturally) the National Turkey Federation. They will hold strong opinions regarding which version of green bean casserole is superior (I straddle the culinary fence between the fresh beans folks and the canned-soup slop camp.  They each have their place on my table.). And they will take a collective deep breath before the holiday madness really ensues.

Growing up, Thanksgiving was a thirty-some-person affair at my Aunt Debbie’s house.  Well, it was Uncle Larry’s house, too, and he probably even did the bulk of the cooking, but it was still Aunt Debbie’s holiday. She had an open door and a huge heart, and Thanksgiving was her jam. Before the meal, she insisted that all the guests stand in a circle and share what they were thankful for.  We were all mostly grateful for the same things – health, family, time spent together, a few days off from work or school.  And pie.  Always pie.  Seeing as there were so many guests, this gratitude practice could have led to cold mashed potatoes.  However, the potatoes stayed warm (a Thanksgiving miracle!) and this “circle of thankfulness” remains a cherished memory.

My Thanksgivings have changed a lot in the past 5 years.  But some things will always be the same. I still believe that the idea of coming together and sharing a day of thankfulness is a good one, no matter its basis.  In fact, I try to practice gratitude all the time these days, for everything from my work boots to my adopted hometown to our invincible goldfish.

And, this Thanksgiving, I am particularly thankful for (in no particular order):

• All the police officers, medical professionals, military personnel and everyone else working today, allowing me the luxury of celebrating safely with my family.

• The roof over my head and the fire in my fireplace.

• My thoughtful and creative partner/best friend.

• Thanksgivings past, the memories of which remind me that life can quickly change in both magical and heart-breaking ways.

• Coffee.

• Inspiration, which often goes with coffee.

• Target, where I scored my lovely Thanksgiving table runner…along with lots of other things I don’t need.

  

• Two amazing kiddos, and every small moment I get to spend with them.  Whether I am playing Barbies with Ryan, or reading to Baylor each morning when I wake him up for school (Right now, we are halfway through “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing.” Gotta love Fudge. I am not sure if Baylor feels the same. I think he is probably happy for a few more sleepy minutes under the covers and is too tired to protest the book aspect.  I’ll take it anyway.).

• Four grandparents who love those two kiddos.

• Pie. Always pie. Well, not 400 years ago, because they were eating venison and berries, but you know what I mean.

What are you guys thankful for today?

This locket belonged to my grandma. It wasn’t Grandma’s favorite piece of jewelry, nor her most valuable.  I don’t even really remember her wearing it, to tell you the truth.

But it doesn’t matter.  I know it was hers, and it reminds me of her, much the way the smell of my current hand lotion reminds me of her.  The lotion is not especially effective, but I keep using it because of its scent. And, to tell you the whole truth, I don’t even know if it is a scent she actually wore. But every time I get a whiff of it, I smile and think of her.  And that’s all that really matters, right?

The locket was empty when I received it.  So I printed pictures of Baylor and Ryan, and I popped them into the necklace.  Now, I can keep both my grandma and my kiddos close to my heart on a literal level (They were always there figuratively, of course!).

While I try to be aware of what I have in the moment, we all know that it is a very hard trick to pull off. Thus, the cliché – and the awesome ’80s ballad by Cinderella – “Don’t Know What You Got, Till It’s Gone.” When you are a kid, you simply cannot comprehend that your grandparents won’t always be around.  Just like you don’t really believe that you will ever become a grown-up with grey hair and meal plans and credit scores. As a child, every summer feels at least twelve adult years long (Yes, adult years are a thing.  It’s kind of like dog years.  But way shorter.  And more stressful.). Life stretches out before our young selves, seeming nearly infinite in both its length and possibilities.

Except then it’s not.  Someone close to you passes away. Or you get sick.  Or time just plain passes.  And you realize that things won’t always be as they are now.  You will lose people. You will gain experience.  It will all serve to mold and change you.

I’m coming off a little philosophical here, huh?  I’m sorry for that, guys. See, my uncle passed away last week.  Uncle Tom was a pretty amazing man. He was a lot of things to a lot of people.  Dad, husband, grandfather, brother, pastor, teacher, coach, friend, and, in my case, uncle. As his wife, my Aunt Carolyn, said, she loved him for everything he did for her, but even more so for everything he did for everyone else.  And that, my friends, is the best legacy one can ever hope to leave.

Speaking of legacies, Uncle Tom wrote and published a memoir.  He’s even on Amazon. How cool is that? Here’s the synopsis of Living A Dream with Coach Gate from the website: “This is the story of Tom Applegate, a Quaker pastor who decided he could best serve humanity by teaching in the city.  Growing up in Spiceland, a small town in east central Indiana, he developed a Hoosier passion for basketball.  Having very little success as a player in high school did not dampen his enthusiasm for the sport.” And that is very much what Uncle Tom was about – dedicating himself to others and pressing on despite adversity. Luckily, he had a touch of “Applegate stubbornness” to help spur him along.

Uncle Tom seemed to think a lot of me, and for some reason he believed that I was going to do good things in the world.  Note: I never once said he had good judgment.  The fact is, I’m nowhere near his league and never will be (Except when it comes to being stubborn. I have that piece down.).  Maybe I can try to be a little more like him, though. Because the world would be a better place if we were all a little more like Uncle Tom.

Throughout my life, Uncle Tom invariably greeted me with a headlock and a noogie.  He may have been altruistic, but he was darn ornery, too.  And I may have also provoked him just a little bit. Because I am also ornery. I remember believing that he would always welcome me via good-natured violence, and that he would always, always be stronger than me.

I was wrong, of course. I remember when I realized he wasn’t stronger than me any longer. It was a rude awakening.  It was world-shifting. But don’t worry, I didn’t then give him a noogie in retaliation for all those years of assaults. I said I was ornery, not heartless.

During my last phone call with Uncle Tom, he told me how much he loved reading my blog.  Again, I’m not claiming he had great judgment.  In any event, this one is for you, Uncle Tom.

Folks, this week I am especially grateful for time spent with my relatives, and also for cherished memories of them – whether those memories involve lockets or headlocks.

I am so grateful for you guys, the people who read this little blog. You indulge my compulsion to string words together.  You read the random thoughts I might otherwise keep to myself.  And I think it’s really, really cool that you do that. So I thought I’d give you a little gift. On my journey so far, I have found 10 practices that I believe are inherently good ideas.  I hope to add to my list as I continue on in life, but I think it already includes some pretty useful tidbits.  For what it’s worth, here you go.

10 Things You Will Never Regret:

(Caveat:  Never say never, right?  Even though I just did. There is always an exception to the rule. For example, should you happen to be hit by a bus while engaging in one of the activities listed below, you would likely experience some regret.  But these are my basic tenets, and I think they are generally good ones.)

1. Stop to appreciate the sunrise and sunset.

I stole this one from my husband (much like I stole his high school baseball sweatshirt).  Dan has made a habit of being grateful for each sunrise and sunset since long before I met him.  Pausing to practice gratitude, whether for the view or for your spouse or for your life overall, is a good idea.  Folks who know about these things say gratitude is good for your health. And the sky conveniently provides us with a reminder to slow down and reflect on this twice each day.

2. Turn down the wrong opportunity.

It’s okay to say no.  Yes, many less-than-desirable offers are actually stepping stones to the place you want to be.  And sometimes you need to try something to know it isn’t what you want.  But some paths are just plain wrong for you.  Don’t take the first thing that comes your way, just because someone else thinks you should, or because it sounds impressive, or because you are scared.  Saying yes to one thing means saying no to something else.  And that “something else” might be the opportunity you have been looking for.  I’m NOT saying you should sit on your butt waiting for the right thing to fall in your lap.  It won’t.  You need to hustle and get out there and work hard.  But you don’t need to settle.

3.  Read your children one more book.  And then another.

Do you ever look at old photos of your kids and kinda want to cry?  Not because you want those babies back. Not exactly.  My kids are awesome as they are now, and they are turning into cooler humans by the day. I don’t really want the baby years back.  It’s all the days in between that I mourn.  All those lost days when they were crabby, or I was crabby.  The days when I could’ve taken them to the children’s museum one more time.  Or just read them one more book.  My advice to new mamas is to always, always, always read them one more book.  You’ll still want to cry when you look at the baby photos, but your tears may be fewer.

4. Given the option, always sit at the bar.

The most interesting people sit at the bar, not at the booth in the corner.  The bar is where you hear the funniest jokes, where life-changing agreements are scrawled on napkins, where the people-watching is best. You might also meet a celebrity, if you and your friends happen to eat lunch at the bar. (Or at least meet someone that you think was maybe-probably a celebrity, and then muse on it for years afterwards with your friends.) Trust me.  Bar trumps table.  Every time.

5.  Visit your family.

This isn’t always easy.  It’s not always convenient.  It may entail a long car ride.  It may cause some stress.  But it’s usually worthwhile, and it’s always better than regretting the visit you didn’t make.  Just go.

6.  Be kind.

There is a little bit of magic in kindness.  Being kind doesn’t cost a thing, but its benefits are priceless.  It truly takes so little to make someone feel special.  (1) Smile.  (2) Ask questions about a person and really listen to their answers. And…that’s pretty much it.  Here’s an old story for you: Once upon a time, my friends and I met a possibly famous person while sitting at a bar.  Remember how I told you about that (two paragraphs ago)?  Well, to this day, we can’t confirm if the person we met was the person we suspected it to be.  We enjoyed their company too much to ruin it by asking.  And we have realized that it doesn’t really matter.

The saying is true. What was most important about this individual was that they were unbelievably kind, magically kind, not that they were famous. We each came away from the luncheon encounter feeling special. And that had everything to do with a nice person taking an active interest in us, and nothing to do with their status or identity. (Plus, we have totally convinced ourselves we met a rock star, anyway.)

7.  Spend time with your friends.

Hang out with your friends as much as you can.  Life will get in the way.  And your true friends will understand and still be there when you manage to come up for air.  But do your best to try.  Even when your job is nuts.  Even when your kids are little.  That’s when you need your friends the most.  Being with friends is a great way to practice kindness and gather kindness. If anyone is bound to be kind to you, it’s your friends, right? Of course, they may also heckle and harass you.  Because that’s friendship, too. 🙂  Also, seeing that your partner is (hopefully) your best friend, this means you should make time for date night. Dan and I are pretty good at this one.  We have noticed that when we make an effort to spend quality time together, everything in our life runs more smoothly.  Plus, it’s just plain fun.

8.  Spend time alone.

Don’t be afraid to spend chunks of time alone.  If you are an introvert, you will relish this and gain energy from doing so. If you are an extrovert, you will hate every moment and feel uncomfortable.  But, either way, you will come away with a sharper focus and renewed purpose.

9.  Listen to your gut.

Your gut doesn’t steer you wrong. I learned this one from my own mistakes. I can count several pivotal points in life where I ignored the feeling in my gut and lived to regret it.  If something doesn’t feel right, it isn’t.  If someone seems like a slime ball, it’s because they are.  Don’t be afraid to walk away without a “valid” reason. Your gut is enough.

10.  Invest in yourself.

This is a tough one, especially for folks in certain seasons of life.  When you are trying to do all of the things for all of the people, spending time or money on yourself can seem ludicrous.  Nonetheless, I believe this is the investment with the biggest return. You truly do need to give to yourself so that you can better give to others.  Whether you carve out time to go running or you invest in some educational books, I promise you it will be worth it.

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That’s what I’ve got for you so far.  How about you guys? Do you have any tried-and-true life principles?