There’s an app for Sleeping Beauty

“Get enough sleep.”

That bit of advice was among a dozen tidbits I picked up from speakers at two networking meetings I attended the past two days. It’s that time of year, you know, when all the “be healthier in 2012″ speakers get booked.

I am easily among the 80% of Americans who get enough sleep every night. I love to sleep (and I sleep in a great bed) so I have no problem prioritizing sleep over, say, housework. And I don’t commute so most mornings, I don’t use an alarm clock.

So while I didn’t resolve to sleep more in 2012, I did resolve to “embrace technology,” and I found the Sleep Cycle app while trolling for something new to try. It’s so cool, and it addresses a pressing need for people who don’t sleep well. If you have an iPhone, you must try it.

Search “Sleep Cycle” at the App Store. Download it for 99 cents. Read the instructions; it’s not complicated to use (believe it when you’re told to plug in your iPhone at night).

The app uses the iPhone’s accelerometer to measure how much you move during sleep which theoretically shows when you’re awake and when you’re in deep sleep (you move  less when you’re in deep sleep).

You can set your alarm, and the app will determine — within a half hour — the best time to wake you so you aren’t roused during a deep sleep cycle. But that’s not the coolest part. The coolest part is you get a graph at the end of the night showing when you were in deep sleep.

This was my sleep graph from last night. Over time, it’ll show an average of how many hours of sleep I get a night. If you’re the competitive sort, it might inspire you to go to bed a few minutes earlier to improve your sleep time. Which, if you believe the experts, will improve your health.

Here’s to your health!

This resolution is a stretch

No round of New Year’s resolutions is complete without an intention to lose weight or exercise more, right?

Isn’t that what everyone resolves on Jan. 1? It would seem so by the increase in volume at the local Snap Fitness.

I gained three pounds (which might be accounted for by an overly salty Chinese take-out meal or a big bowl of pasta for dinner) and I covered 1,005 miles in 2011, so I’m not too keen on losing weight or exercising more (how do I know I went 1,005.62 miles in 2011? Attribute that to a Garmin accurate to a hundredth of a mile and an obsessive streak of recording it; I just love my runner’s journal).

OK, enough with the obsessive detail, Minnesota Transplant. Sheesh.

I’m not resolving to exercise more, but I do, however, resolve to exercise differently:

I hereby resolve to stretch after every run.

My sciatica is acting up (do I sound like an old man?) and I think it may have something to do with the fact that my hamstrings are tighter than a 20-year-old’s creamy skin (oh, when you’re 20, you have no idea your skin is in the best condition it’ll ever be). And those hamstrings may be tight because, oh, I never stretch.

I used to do yoga regularly, and I’m thinking I could use a few more up dogs in my routine.

And so, in addition to making a comfy nest and embracing technology, I resolve to stretch.

Oh, and one more thing. If you’re into my annual new year’s resolutions, check it out here.

Tomorrow, we’ll wax nostalgic for the old year passed.

T-hugger (I resolve to embrace technology)

Resolution No. 2 for 2012: Embrace technology.

I used iMovie for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and when I successfully completed a video without too many complications, I wondered, “Why didn’t I do that sooner?”

I’m a directions kind of girl. I read directions. I wait for directions. I follow directions.

While I was painting today (and painting and painting), I wondered if I should have asked for better direction on “cutting in” the ceiling line. “Maybe I should have been watching Tyler more closely,” I thought. Then I thought, “Who cares? It’s paint. Just do it.”

That’s how I approach a lot of things — I am terrified of failing, so I tend to procrastinate and look for directions and ponder the “best” way to do it.

I am not a leader with technology. Sometimes, when things are going well, I’m a fast follower, but I’m not the one who dabbles in technology first. I didn’t get my first cell phone until 2002, for goodness sake (who needs to be that plugged in? Hah!).

But in 2012, I resolve to jump in.Try it. Muck it up. Break it (if I break it, I will try the go-to solution every IT repairman relies on: Turn it off and turn it on).

Since I intend to live to 100, now’s not the time to become a dinosaur. And I work for Linea, a technology company built on sharing digital photos, so I better be a leader. And there are a lot of cool techie tricks out there for improving one’s life. For instance, I’m now on Yelp, a bountiful source of real-people restaurant reviews — and I’m going to start writing more reviews. And I swear, even though I adore paper and the feel of a book in my hands, I’m going to try reading a book on my iPad (anyone ever try Kobo ebooks?). And maybe, just maybe, I will give up my paper newspaper to read my news on my iPad. Oh, my Beloved will love that one!

The beginning of the new year’s … resolutions

After partying like a rock star on New Year’s Eve (really, I was wearing Lady Gaga-like platform shoes that had me towering over the common rabble, and when I heard a “Paparazzi” cover by the band, I felt like I had arrived), I spent the first day of the new year traipsing through home improvement stores.

Our quest began unpromisingly, but after four stops we acquired the perfect finials on clearance at Lowe’s, and now we know how we’re hanging those curtains we picked out last month.

And, people, I am here to announce, the talking has turned into action: The ceiling in the dining room has its first coat of paint.

That’s one of my New Year’s resolutions: To redecorate the house and make every room feel more comfortable and inviting. My home shall be a tranquil respite from the rest of the world.

New Year’s Resolutions: Find a mantra and make it matter

To make New Year’s resolutions that stick, think like a marketer.

Focus on benefits, not features. A feature describes (more noodles, hybrid power, sheepskin lining. A benefit is about desires (which means a heartier lunch, fewer stops at the gas station, your feet won’t get sweaty).

And use a easy-to-remember tagline. “Just do it” sings. “Got milk?” has generated millions of copy cats. “Tastes great, less filling” says something.

So, your resolution should focus on benefits and should come with an easy-to-remember mantra. In the past, my resolutions have revolved around “Let go” (I was proposed to that year I tried to just let things happen), “Make room” (I cleared clutter) and, last year, “Boldly go” (spent three months down south and finished my book).

I’m a big fan of New Year’s resolutions, and I’ll share mine tomorrow, but here are a few I won’t be making:

• I resolve to read People magazine like I’ll be taking a test on the contents.
• I resolve to obsess about imagined slights from minor players.
• I resolve to wipe the counter tops more effectively (my Beloved might like me to make this resolution but … not gonna happen!).
• I resolve to watch the stock market fluctuate wildly, move my investments around and lose sleep over it.
• I resolve to figure out the lure of Housewives of Anywhere.

Some things just aren’t worth worrying about. Major on the majors, I’ve heard it said.

Whatever that means.

This martial art is either too bold or not bold enough

Tried a tai chi sword class for the first time this morning. Part of the “boldly go” New Year’s resolution, trying something new and all that.

Note to self: Tai chi is not my thing.

I’ve done a couple of tai chi exercise videos, but never tai chi sword. It is essentially slow movement while holding a double-bladed sword. Think like a warrior. Conquer your stress while fiercely striking down your imaginary opponent.Very bold.

With moves like “blue dragon swishing its tail,” “killing hungry tiger” and “rustle through grass for snake,” tai chi sword has plenty of action and adventure. And, oh, the participants in the class were very serious. I made the mistake of joking about striking down a chicken, and someone said, “Chicken?! There’s no chicken.”

Rooster, sorry, I meant rooster. You say “rooster,” I say “chicken.” Whatever.

Not whatever. It’s a rooster.

OK. Understood. In a class where people are holding swords (plastic though they may be), you don’t argue.

I didn’t actually have a sword or an opponent – I just pretended. Good exercise in imagination; not good cardio exercise. Not worth getting up at 6:30 a.m. Imaginary sword will sheathed in favor of real running shoes.

Someone else can vanquish the dragon.

To boldly go

“Space: the final frontier.
These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.
Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds,
to seek out new life and new civilizations,
to boldly go where no man has gone before.”

– “Star Trek” title sequence

I hereby resolve to become an astronaut.

OK, not an astronaut in the orbiting, space-suited, rocket-fueled sense of the word.

Rather, I will “boldly go” in 2011 in the courageous, committed way an astronaut explores the great beyond. I will go places I’ve never been, do things I’ve never done, pray fervently, trust myself and make no excuses for being uniquely me. And I will spend less time on Facebook and more time on my book.

My vehicle won’t be a rocket, but a 1983 Pace Arrow RV and a computer keyboard.

“And you show that you are a letter from Christ delivered by us, written not with ink
but with the Spirit of the living God,
not on tablets of stone
but on tablets of human hearts.
Such is the confidence that we have
through Christ toward God. …
Since we have such a hope, we are very bold,
… and we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord,
are being changed into his likeness
from one degree of glory to another;
for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”

– 2 Corinthians 3: 3-4, 12, 18

P.S. I’ve posted more than 300 times a year in 2009 and 2010, and this year I resolve to post on this blog once a day for all of 2011. If you already read my blog, I hope you’ll encourage me with comments and “likes” and good will along the way.

The Philosophy of Puke

“There is nothing like puking with somebody
to make you into old friends.”

– Sylvia Plath

I ran across this quote from doomed author Sylvia Plath when I was researching her life and death for a post earlier this week, and it got me thinking about the philosophical aspects of puke.

Yes, philosophy.

Of puke.

I hate puking. I don’t remember all the times I puked as a child (perhaps my mother can), though regular readers might remember my June post about my disgust of wet bread in which I described a third-grade encounter with half-digested green beans during school lunch hour (http://minnesotatransplant.wordpress.com/2010/06/15/bread-gravy-gross/ ).

I can, however, vividly recall the times I’ve puked as an adult.

When I was 19, I drank too many wine coolers and whiskey (for the record, the legal drinking age at the time was 19 and yes, it was as disgusting a combination as it sounds even as it was going down). I ended up puking in a sink full of dirty dishes on the seventh floor of a nearby dorm — not mine, thank god. And no, I didn’t clean it up. What a scary mess someone encountered the next day while looking for a bowl for their oatmeal.

I’m sorry.

I still don’t drink whiskey 25 years later.

Despite dodging that clean-up nightmare, I learned quickly to take care of any and all puking business in the bathroom or I’d be the one to clean up the remains of my own repulsive wreckage. When I got sick while on business in South Africa once, my mom was nowhere to be found. I recall the frantic urgency of running to the hotel bathroom seven times during the night – yes, it was so traumatic, I counted. All because of some aioli sauce (probably made with real mayonnaise) that must have gone bad during a warm, outdoor seafood dinner with a colleague. It sucked to be alone and sick.

One New Year’s Day about 10 or 12 years ago, I made a big pot of chili for lunch and puked it up by supper. I wasn’t even hung over. It was some sort of strange 12-hour stomach flu that decided to descend upon me on the first day of the year. Thanks, Karma.

The Philosophy of Puke is apt for this day, the last day of the year, when thousands, if not tens of thousands of people will drink too much to celebrate the passing of 2010 and end up worshipping the porcelain goddess in the early hours of the new year.

Puking is not a good way to ring in a happy new year, but if you can get it taken care of before the bell tolls midnight, it’s an appropriate (though not pleasant) way to expunge oneself of a crappy old year.

The act of puking empties your body of some bad mojo — whether it’s too much alcohol, bad mayonnaise or three-bean chili. And, as noted by poet Plath, it renders you helpless and exposed — the perfect conditions for bonding with unusual characters with whom you might not normally associate.

So today, the last day of 2010, I am symbolically puking up all the bad mojo of 2010, some of which I inflicted on myself (like wine coolers and whiskey) and some of which was inflicted on me (like a stomach virus).

Devoid of all that is unwise and spoiled and afflicted, I will ready my psyche for new and good things in 2011.

I invite you to puke up the bad mojo of 2010, too. What is it that you’ll be grateful to flush away in the sewer pipes of auld lang syne?

Good book intentions

With Caswell out of the house and living with his mother, that leaves two first-borns living together and jockeying for position. Since we’re not filling our time by picking up after a sloppy 16-year-old, stocking the refrigerator with six gallons of milk a week and driving Caswell all over creation (or riding shotgun while he learns to drive), we’re taking stock of our priorities.

If you’re a regular reader, you’ve read many times about my desire to write a book (oh, the path to hell is paved with good intentions!). At this point, I really have no excuses left. My Beloved, trying to be helpful without nagging, volunteered to make a schedule for me to follow so I could (read: would) find time to write.

Ah, sure, I’ll look at your schedule. Draw something up.

He volunteered himself to make supper three days a week, so he’s willing to make a few sacrifices, too, but I chuckled when I read this on the schedule:

• Dinner each nite @ 6:30 p.m.
• Done at 6:45 p.m.
• Booking writing: T, Th 7:32 till 9 a.m.
• M, W, F 8:30 a.m. to 9 a.m. planning for T, Th writing sessions only and nothing else … 8:16 to 8:29 shower, Smelly

Well (eyes bugging out), at least I have 13 minutes to make myself beautiful in the morning. Um, clean at least. Well, better smelling anyway. He’s nothing if not detailed.

I know I have good discipline in certain circumstances. I run or walk 20 miles a week. I eat one dessert a day or less. Since I was diagnosed with periodontal disease, I’m flossing religiously twice a day. During National Novel Writing Month last November, I managed to write 15,000 words in 15 days. I know I have it in me. Somewhere. Sometimes. So, I thought, maybe living by Honey’s schedule (in exchange for getting him to make dinner regularly) is just the kick in the butt I need.

So this morning, I abided by the schedule and spent my half hour tracking down the 15,000 words that have been collecting electronic dust on some memory stick somewhere since November.

Gee, some of it is pretty good.

Since part of my Beloved’s schedule calls for me to spend less time on my blog and more time on my book, I figure I’ll share book snippets here on occasion so my writing serves double duty. Here’s today’s snippet to wet your whistle …

S was born the youngest of four children. His mother was overbearing, and his father, who commuted an hour to work at 5 every morning, was hen pecked. To escape, he drank a vile-tasting hooch he made himself which over the course of decades fizzled his brain.

S’s childhood home was situated on a few acres just outside Stillwater, which would eventually become a cute suburban haven. There was an unfenced pond in the yard, and 2-year-old S learned quickly he could get the attention a fourth child lacked by running directly for the pond whenever he was outside. His unhappy mother, with a cigarette hanging from her fingertips, would screech at the older children to “Stop S before he gets to the pond!” S’s older siblings would dutifully comply, and then beat him into submission so they could return to whatever distraction filled their time.  He became known as “Diaper Man” because he was like a single-minded superhero headed for a crime at the pond.

I always thought that’s where S first learned to get attention. Misbehavior earned him negative attention, maybe, but it was attention nonetheless.

S’s parents padded their meager budget by caring for short-term foster children. When S was about 8 or 9, his parents adopted one of their foster children, a little boy with myriad of medical problems caused by his drug-addicted mother who couldn’t stop doing heroin or cocaine or some destructive chemical like that during her pregnancy. Quite quickly, even S’s special position as “youngest” was erased.

On prayer, a president and a poll

Even if you don’t like President Obama, perhaps you will find his words about prayer at the National Prayer Breakfast this morning to be inspiring.

I am trying to be a better pray-er. One of my resolutions this year was to start each day with prayer. I’ve created a prayer journal (that I am actually using!). I’m reading “A Woman’s Call to Prayer” with my book club. Improving my communication skills with other human beings is a lifetime project, so I expect no less effort is required in improving my communication skills with the Creator. But I am working on it, slowly but surely.

So this morning, as I was running on the treadmill without my headphones, which I managed to forget to bring to the gym, I had to read Obama’s remarks on the closed-captioning on the TV, rather than hear them. But perhaps they were sinking in better for me that way.

He mentioned many topics, including Haiti and health care, but about prayer specifically, he said:

“For while prayer can buck us up when we are down, keep us calm in a storm; while prayer can stiffen our spines to surmount an obstacle — and I assure you I’m praying a lot these days — prayer can also do something else.  It can touch our hearts with humility.  It can fill us with a spirit of brotherhood.  It can remind us that each of us are children of an awesome and loving God.”

Indeed. Love that sentiment.

If you want to read his whole speech, try this website:

http://pamshouseblend.com/diary/15103/transcript-remarks-by-the-president-at-the-national-prayer-breakfast

And if you have a thought about prayer, or Obama or Obama’s remarks on prayer, or something else, please comment. But be civil. As Obama said this morning, “Civility also requires relearning how to disagree without being disagreeable.”