Of Goals and Resolutions

I opened one eye, not that I had a choice. My eyelid was being pulled open by Mo, my Life Coach and Opinion Fairy, who had taken the job of motivating me to exercise and meditate my way to better health in 2012. As irritating as it was to have a small someone attempting to wake me up in this way, something that hadn't happened since my children were young, I had to admire her. Motivating me was not going to be an easy job. Over the Christmas holidays, I had gotten used to sleeping in and being just a little bit lazy. It wasn't the safest job, either, considering I had almost swatted her away a moment ago.

Mo: “Actually, you missed me by several inches, and just a little bit lazy? You haven't gotten up before 7 since the holidays started.”

Me: “Which is why, dear Mo, they are the holidays. It's the proper time to relax.”

I opened my eyes at this point and saw that Mo was dressed in sweats and wearing a tiny whistle around her neck. It didn't look right so I blinked a couple of times to make sure I was really awake. When I looked at her again, she was still in the same outfit.

Me: “What's going on with the sweats? Are you my life coach or my personal fitness trainer?”

Mo: “Both, dearie. Today we're going to talk about New Year's Resolutions.”

Me: “We already did, remember?”

Mo: “Yeah, I know. They're nice resolutions but a little too touchy-feely. Now you need to balance those out with some practical goals. That's it. We'll call them your goals for the New Year instead of more resolutions. Your first goal is to get up earlier.”

Me, yawning: “So you're deciding for me? What time is it, anyway?”

Mo: “5:30.”

Me: “Five-thirty? Are you nuts? I have it on good authority that not even God gets up at 5:30 am.”

Mo: “Your authority being a 5 year old kindergartener.”

Me: “A very wise 5 year old.”

Mo: “Okay, we'll negotiate that later. What goals have you set for this year?”

Me: “Can't this wait till I'm more awake?”

At this, Mo flew over to my left ear and blew her whistle loudly. She has good reflexes. I didn't mean for my arms to fly up and bat at her; they did it on their own. It's called “involuntary muscle movements”, a part of Parkinson's disease with which, as my husband will testify, I have a lot of experience. I was awake. I turned to look at my husband, who was still sleeping soundly. He didn't seem the least bit disturbed by our conversation.

Mo: “That's because he can't hear us, of course. Don't ask me to explain. It's a fairy thing.”

Me: “Okay, okay. I'm awake now. Goals. We're talking about something with goals.”

Mo stamped her foot. She was getting impatient. “Your goals! My goal is to get you to make YOUR goals and stick to them. Do I have to blow my whistle again?”

Me: “I'm getting up.”

Mo: “That's better. Now, into the living room for some yoga.”

I slowly made my way into the living room, after a brief stop in the bathroom. I'm not stupid enough to attempt yoga with a full bladder. I sat on the edge of the chair and closed my eyes. I started by paying attention to my breathing and sitting with my spine straight. After a moment or so, I heard soft music in the background. It was peaceful and I relaxed. I went into some leg stretches and torso twists. Getting down on the floor, I rocked back and forth with dolphin pose and then did a few cat and cow poses. Standing again, I did a few arm raises and forward bends, then proceeded to a warrior pose. I ended with a few more leg stretches from the chair again and then sat in my chair for a few minutes in quiet. It wasn't exactly Savasana, but it would do.

I opened my eyes. There was Mo, playing a tiny flute.

Mo, quietly: “Now, isn't that a nice way to start the day?”

Me: “Yeah! Thanks for the music. It was really lovely.”

Mo: “Now, we have a few more minutes till I'm off duty. How about those goals? Have you thought about them at all?”

I had thought about them. My daughter has challenged me to go off of refined sugar for the next month. We're doing this one together, starting tomorrow. I made sure to have an extra chocolate truffle tonight to tide me over. Our cleaning and clearing out job is nearly finished. I'm proud of that! When it's done, there will be no more clutter and no piles of papers or anything else, anywhere. My husband has helped with that one. All the old papers went into the fire pit and he spent a nice crisp day burning our old documents. I think we burned out the motor in our shredder.

Mo: “Sounds good. Anything more?”

Me: “Now I need to figure out how to balance my time. How to get in those daily naps, enough exercise, my volunteer work, my craft work, and still have time to spend with my friends.” 

Mo: “It's a good thing we've got all year to work on it. I'll earn my pay, which, by the way, could be some of those sweets that you're giving up. I'll expect a truffle or two tonight.”

She flew up in the air suddenly and said something very unfairy-like. It seems my arms had taken off on their own again. It was just another involuntary muscle movement. I swear it was.

Mo will get two truffles tonight.  She's earned them.

CAFFEINATED!

(With apologies to the late Gene Amole, former columnist for the Rocky Mt. News, and his Idea Fairy.)

The jitters were still affecting me last night after having that cup of coffee at 9:00 am. I know, at 7:30 pm, it should have worn off long ago, but it hadn't, which was why I was still enthusiastic and excited, and why I was looking through business papers and paying bills, planning my next step for the business, and writing with long run-on sentences with lots of commas, regardless of whether they are needed, or not. The only problem was that it was hard to focus; which is why it took me awhile to notice the fairy that was sitting on top of my computer screen, looking down onto my work. I decided to be polite.

Me: Who the hell are you and where did you come from?

Fairy: I'm the Opinion Fairy. I've been watching you for awhile and thought I'd come and tell you what I think of your work.

Me: Isn't that supposed to be Idea Fairy?

Opinion Fairy: That's my cousin. She's nice. Now, are you going to tell me? What are you so excited about?

Me: I made it through the meeting with my vocational/rehab counselor and it went well, in fact, it went even better than I expected, especially as he started by telling me what I hadn't done that I was supposed to be doing, and which papers I hadn't turned in.

O.F.: You're doing it again.

Me: What?

O.F.: Speaking in long run-on sentences.

Me: But I'm excited! Just listen. I blew him away with my promo video and how clear I was with what I wanted to do with my business and how much I had sold already and my connections with wholesalers and authors, and how practical I am.

O.F.: You don't sound practical now. You sound manic. What's going on?

Me: I had a cup of coffee this morning. I said that already.

O.F.: This morning? Come on. I drink coffee every morning and it doesn't do that to me.

Me: But I don't drink coffee.

O.F.: You just said you did.

Me: I was invited over to have coffee with someone this morning and it was, like, coffee. Usually when I go out for coffee, I have tea.

O.F.: It'll take me awhile to work that one out. So, you had coffee this time.

Me: Yeah. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to me. I thought, “I'm an adult. Adults drink coffee. I can do this.”

O.F.: You've never had coffee before this morning?

Me: Of course I've had coffee! Thirty-two years ago, we went on a road trip through the midwest, in August, and we left at night so we wouldn't have to drive through the heat. I drank a half cup of coffee with lots of milk and sugar in it, just so I could stay awake.

O.F.: Meaning, of course, that there must have been a whole tablespoon of actual Java in there?

Me: Yeah. Something like that. I have weird reactions to things. My family still gives me a hard time for getting tipsy from drinking an O'Doul's. Don't worry about me. I'm okay now. It's starting to wear off. I'm calm. I'm calm.

O.F.: Calm!? You're like a chipmonk that's just gotten off a roller coaster, a hummingbird on speed, a person with Parkinson' disease who's forgotten her medication.

Me: Okay, now that's getting personal. I'll have you know I've taken all my meds today.

O.F.: If this is calm, what were you like earlier?

Me: Well, when I got home from my visit, my husband had to take me for a walk.

O.F.: A walk is good.

Me: Yeah, except I was walking backwards...

O.F.: Backwards...?

Me: ...and sideways.

The Opinion Fairy raised one eyebrow. She wasn't going to comment on that one. I was impressed. I've always wanted to be able to raise just one eyebrow.

O.F.: I'm glad you made it through. Now, can we get on with your writing? It's just that, I've got another gig tonight and I shouldn't be late.

Me: Someone more important than me, I suppose.

O.F.: That's classified information; and don't feel sorry for yourself. Now, I see you've got several ideas for articles written down there.

Me: Leave it to me to get an Opinion Fairy. Okay, I've narrowed it down to three – “choosing the right kind of pillow”, “the benefits of an afternoon nap”, or “sleep-a-thon raises money for Parkinson's research”.

O.F.: Sounds like you need another cup of coffee. I'll tell you what. There's another idea here that's worth exploring. “The benefits of low dose medical marijuana for Parkinson's patients”. I'm sure a lot of people would be interested in that.

Me: That's a good idea. Of course, that means I'll be coming out of the closet and admitting that I use it. There's still a stigma to that, you know, even if you just use it now and then. People don't realize that you don't have to get high or stoned. If used as a medicine, it's a medicine.

O.F.: Yeah, and it controls your startle reflex, takes the edge off your dystonia, and can knock out a migraine. People just need to be educated about it, you know that. It even has fewer side effects of any other drug you take for your Parkinson's.

Me: Including coffee. You have been watching me, haven't you?! I suppose you'll want to get credit for the idea?

O.F.: No, no. You'd better leave me out of it.

Me: Why? You don't trust my writing?

O.F.: Well, it's just that, if you tell people that a fairy helped you to write an article about medical marijuana, they might not take you seriously. At least, that's my opinion.

I sighed and admitted that she was probably right.