Patrick Stedem

To begin my review of 2011, I’ll look at how I performed in regard to my resolutions. I had five resolutions for 2011: 1. run more 2. do more pushups, situps and squats 3. read one hour a day 4. floss and 5. cook at home more often.

1. Run More

While from a technical standpoint I ran more than last year, I in no way achieved the amount of running I desired. When I started working nine hour days and the weather cooled down and it was dark leaving work, it was too easy to just say “whatevs.” There’s no excuse though, because I have a free gym membership for indoor running. I am weak and pathetic.

Rating: FAIL

2. More Pushups, Situps and Squats

I did increase the number of pushups, situps and squats done in each workout and I kept up with doing them routinely. I, however, did not come close to reaching the promised land of the hundredpushups, twohundredsitups and twohundredsquats programs.

Rating: MARGINAL SUCCESS!!

3. Read One Hour a Day

Wow. This souffle never even rose enough to collapse. I forgot I’d even set this resolution. Maybe this year?

Rating: SPECTACULAR FAILURE

4. Floss

Easily the greatest success of my 2011 resolutions, and potentially the greatest success of my entire life. While I don’t necessarily floss every single night, I do the vast majority of the time. It’s become a habit, and it’s to the point that the dental hygienist complimented my dental hygiene. My success owes a debt of gratitude to this Pop Economics entry. My greatest failure was not applying the same “keep doing it, even if only in an insignificant amount” way of pushing towards forming a habit to reading and running.

Rating: ABSOLUTE SUCCESS

5. Cook at Home More

This is a win, but with further room for improvement. I’ve shifted from only cooking humongous, weeklong quantities once a month and eating out the rest of the time to making single dinner portions. I’ve developed a ravishing love affair with the baked sweet potato and experimented with different vegetables I’d never eaten before, let alone cooked. I’ve shed quite a bit of weight, though I think that had more to do with changing, and being more conscious of, what I eat.

This is not to say that there have not been trials and tribulations. There have been abject failures (e.g. pecan and cheddar cheese balls, cooking a piece of fish so improperly it resulted in a sort of boney fishmash), and I have growing trepidation I will injure myself through haphazard knife usage, salmonella (or salamander as my paternal grandfather once referred to it) poisoning or not cleaning my oven of, now charred, sweet potato drippings.

Rating: SUCCESS

A lesson that should be well learned…

My first try at this whole green smoothie thing, even though the resulting smoothie is far from green in color. It was a resounding success. My blender impressed me by ripping through the orange like a chestburster alien would through, well, a chest. I followed the recipe here, and I left out the optional flaxseeds (I had my doubts without their inclusion).

After more trips to grocery stores than I care to remember, I have all the required ingredients needed for my Thanksgiving cooking. I’m especially excited about the DIY Irish Cream.

• While in bed last night, the jingle of keys and repeated clacks of, what I thought, were doors closing stirred me. Initially my ears were perked in the direction of my bathroom wall and the neighbors concealed therein. As the racket proceeded, I vacated my bedroom in order to ascertain the cause and develop a new course of action, as wishful neglect was proving fruitless.
• Shortly after exiting my bedroom, it became abundantly clear that the disturbance was instead coming from outside my very own front door! As I approached the peephole, my eyes rolled like a 16-pound bowling ball thrown by an overambitious eight-year-old; slowly and deliberately. The assumption being the similarly-aged male neighbor across the hall was returning from a rough night of boozing. He was so blasted he couldn't open his own front door, I thought.
• As I lifted the peephole to peer out, the door pulsed towards me. And again.
• Drunkard: Come on, nothings working tonight.
• I hesitated. Would the drunkard stumble in as soon as I opened the door? Would they argue this was their apartment? I've seen several news stories over the years about drunks entering the wrong house or apartment and being found passed out in a bed or lounging on the couch the next morning. If I hadn't locked my door, it would have happened to me. After fetching a shirt, I took the plunge.
• Me: I think you have the wrong apartment.
• Drunkard: You're right. I'm sorry.
• Me: It's no problem.
• Drunkard: I'm really sorry about that.
• And with that I closed the door. Should I have offered help in finding the proper apartment or maybe even building? After all, I'd never seen this individual in my building before. It was not my neighbor across the hall, but an older, black-haired, Caucasian, female stranger.