Perfection

I've been thinking about a new year, resolutions, and the idea of improving oneself. I remember other years when Adam would ask me around Christmas "So, what resolutions are you going to make?" I would temporarily shut down when unable to immediately come up with something. So this year, I've been trying to figure things out, and I think I've come to something significant. (Feel free to stop reading at any time; I realize that this is one of those self-indulgent sorts of posts that probably no one else is interested in.)

Perfectionism. I think that's the source of a lot of my stress and anxiety about many things. And not that I would generally categorize myself as stressed out or anxious - I think I'm pretty relaxed, even though I have trouble sitting still. I'll rephrase that more accurately - I'm relaxed about other people, and don't care if their houses are tidy or their life isn't 'perfect'. But I am not relaxed about myself - having a clean house and 'getting things done'. If I'm not working on something 'productive' (an assignment, doing the dishes, vacuuming, etc.) I feel as though I should be, and as though I'm wasting time and failing everyone by not 'getting things done'.

I initially would have thought of a very narrow definition of 'perfectionism', but after looking at this site on overcoming perfectionism, I think I have a better idea of what I'm dealing with. Not setting goals because they might be unattainable is a problem, as is shutting down and not planning anything because it might not work out anyway. (That has more to do with work than home.) Always feeling guilty about not attaining is something else that scarily describes me.

And so, in an effort to overcome perfectionism, I have come up with the following two resolutions (any more, and I may panic over getting them done):
a) I will not buy any magazines off of the stand. (Not that I buy many, but when I do I tend to buy decorating ones that show perfect houses and people and make me want more and more and more. I always hate the feeling I have after reading them, even though I enjoy them. My house does not have to, and will never be perfect.)
b) I do not have to have a clean house before I sit down to read a book or have a cup of tea. (I will never be the woman in the Starbucks ad in her perfectly scrunched socks curled up on her couch with her cup of coffee and newspaper and freshly shaven legs.)

Lovely visits

We have had a splendid and lovely time with all of our friends and family this week! And it's not over yet. Yesterday afternoon, the weather turned out to be beautiful, so we went walking on the beach where the Sara Gamp washed up. No new and interesting things had appeared as of then; the little whale that was there before has since disappeared. Roxanne took this pic of Adam and I; I think we're pretty cute! The rocks at this beach are amazing, after years of being washed over by the ocean. Mmmmm.

Dinner party

Our big Christmas dinner on Boxing Day, complete with Christmas crackers!

Flaming fondue

All day Saturday, as Adam was working away at the retail capital of Yarmouth, I was busily making preparations for a Christmas fondue to be held that evening. I started setting the table around noon, had cleaned and vacuumed all morning, and things were looking lovely. As darkness approached, I turned on the Christmas tree lights, started up the festive music, and began simmering the cider. Everyone arrived bearing gifts and smiles, and the evening began. We heated the appetizers, and settled in at the table for a leisurely fondue together. Christine started her electric fondue after we found an extension cord, and I also let her be responsible for filling the fuel in our fondue set-up, since she was experienced at it and I was not. We lit things up and started in, when suddenly there were flames jumping out from under the fondue pot. Not being the smartest hostess in the world, I had strategically placed a napkin under the pot which has read and green berries on it and was unfortunately made of paper. This quickly caught on fire, and acted as a wick to light the tablecloth on fire. Everyone had leapt up from their seats by now, as I was repeatedly asking "Can I put water on it?" Someone must have said "Yes" just to stop me from repeating myself, so I doused the fire with my glass of water. Good thing it wasn't wine, I guess.
After the flames were extinguished, we took stock of the damage. My Frenchy's tablecloth was done for - melted through. Nothing else seemed to be damaged, except for the tabletop, which now has a large whitish rough spot on it. We set the table back up and continued with our evening. We had a wonderful time.
So next time you're at our house, be sure to ask about the spot on the table. There's a good story behind it.