silhouette photography of woman
Photo by Pete Johnson on


Someday I will be a morning person.  I will jump out of bed before the sun even rises, lace up my running shoes, greet the day with the chirpy birds, and let the pink glow of the sun warm my soul as it lights the sky.  Upon arriving home, I will feed the chickens and barn cat — respectively thanking them for my eggs and for killing the rats.  Then I will feed the house cats and take a moment to appreciate the happiness they bring to my life.  Exercise, gratitude, and chores complete, I will shower, shave, and be ready to greet my waking family with well-groomed joy knowing my day has begun with no sleeping-in or running-late guilt.

Someday my body will be a temple.  I will feed it nothing but wholesome food.  All the fruits and veggies it can take.  Eggs from my beloved chickens.  Cheese from cows lovingly hand milked in pastures where they eat nothing but all organic free range vegetation.  I will cook my own meals, and when I can’t, I will only eat at restaurants that also consider my body a temple worthy of local low-carbon-emission produce.  Occasionally I will allow myself a treat of a single square of bitter dark chocolate, so I can savor both the sweet of the dessert and the bitterness off mistreating my temple.  The only beverage I will ever drink is pure clean water from glass containers.  I will exercise everyday, but vary my routine from running to yoga to Pilates to ensure my cardiovascular health, flexibility, and strength.

Someday I will be on time to everything.  After my blissful morning and my temple-worthy breakfast I will drop my child off at school exactly seven minutes early.  Time for her to play a bit, and visit with her friends.  Then when the bell rings I will walk my perfectly dressed self — in a size six, a slim nonjudgmental size — to my car and drive to work, arriving exactly at 8:30.  People will depend on me, knowing if they schedule an 8:30 meeting I will be there nonplussed and ready to face whatever challenge they need faced.  After working an 8 hour day — not including the 0.5 hours spent enjoying the wholesome lunch I packed, then walking around the park to clear my mind — I will be waiting for my daughter at 3:00, just as the bell rings, to walk her home from school.  Hand in hand, we’ll talk about her day and my day as we much on fresh vegetables from our garden.  She will have friends, I will be successful at work, she will be successful at school, and we will be so proud of each other.  Then I’ll drive her, and all her friends, in my electric vehicle — powered by solar panels installed on our home’s roof — to whatever practice she has that day:  carpooling to ensure our position in the social hierarchy while minimizing our carbon footprint.

Someday I will make good use of all the time available to me.  While my daughter practices I’ll be using that time to write my novel, do grad school homework, catch up with beloved friends and family, or knit scarves for the poor.  However, I will willingly pause to talk with other sports parents where I will be modest about my child and supportive of their children and their worries about traffic.  I won’t squander time dinking on my phone, talking to parents who make me want to stab my eyes out, or half-listen to eye-stabby parents while dinking on my phone.  I will be present and understanding.

Someday my evenings will run like clockwork.  After practice, I’ll enjoy a wholesome meal with my family.  We will all eat exactly the same thing, correctly proportioned to our body mass index.  Dishes will be cleared, washed, and the kitchen will be cleaned in harmony, then everyone will sit down to homework.  (Well, everyone but my husband who will enjoy a well deserved hour of rest watching some sporting event, but he will not be too loud or too emotionally attached to the event.)  Homework done, my daughter will bathe, and I will read aloud to her for 20 minutes.  Then she will make her lunch, brush her teeth, brush her hair, put on pajamas, and deposit her dirty clothes into her hamper.  She will go to sleep by herself in her own room in her own bed after reading to herself for exactly 10 minutes.

Someday my late nights will be all my own time.  Having accomplished everything I needed to do while in the office, I will spend 45 minutes catching up with my husband.  2.5 times per week we will have age-appropriate sex.  Sated or not, I will then spend a few hours editing my novel, writing a blog post, or drafting a new short story.  Sometimes, I will work a bit on a knitted gift for a friend, or hand-write a few thank you notes.  Occasionally I will document my day’s accomplishments in a perfect Instagram shot or Tweet.  Before bed, I will do a quick clean up of the house – filling the dishwasher, folding laundry, picking up clutter, sweeping, and wiping down counters and other surfaces – before reading for 30 minutes and then drifting off for an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep.


New Years Peas

As long as I can remember, I have been forced encouraged to eat black-eyed peas on New Year’s day.  My dad is from Texas and this is a tradition he brings to the family.  Not normally the superstitious one, we have a hard time avoiding eating our annual good luck peas.  Even now when I have my own family and my own household, I get the text or call asking if I’ve had my black-eyed peas.

As a child, I remember the peas tasting exactly like dirt.  Sometime the dirt bits were boiled with ham to make them ham-flavored dirt.  Sometimes they were just plain old boiled dirt.  More than once I ate the dirt like it was a pill: no chewing, just swallowing.

Then my dad discovered the black-eyed pea dip.  This year my recipe looked like this:

2 cans of black eyed peas

1/2 onion chopped coarsely

1 can of Rotel tomatoes

1 package of Women’s Bean Project Green Chili Salsa Mix seasoning*

Juice of half a lime

1 Tbsp of water if the dip seems dry

Put everything together in a bowl the morning of New Years Eve.  Let the flavors mingle during the day.  The dip will be tasty by the evening and even tastier by the next day’s celebrations.

Now it’s not the most appetizing looking dip, but trust me, if you have to eat dirt bits, this is the way to do it.  The dirt flavor is hardly noticeable with all the spices and it’s so easy to put together. To be fair, the dip is also helped by the fact that legumes are trendy now, as opposed to when I was a kid.   Our good luck dip was enjoyed at both our New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day parties.  No one had to be coerced to try it…well, except the kids.  None of the kids ate the dirt dip.  Don’t tell my dad….

Happy New Year!


*The Woman’s Bean Project is one of my favorite local charities, and they ship all over the United States.  Their mission, according to their website, is “to change women’s lives by providing stepping stones to self-sufficiency through social enterprise.  They train impoverished women how to succeed in the workplace”.  Their food is delicious and every purchase helps a woman move toward a sustainable career.  They have helped 800 women move into personal responsibility.  I recommend the salsa dips, the cornbread, and the split pea soup.  Yum!  You can also order their products on Amazon and, or check their website for local retailers in your area.