Thursday, July 30, 2015

Everything Is About To Be Amazing

I think a lot of us occasionally allow our happiness to hinge on an accomplishment, event, material possession, or relationship. If I get married I'll be happy. When I'm 10 pounds lighter I'll be happy. When my squat weight is 10 pounds heavier I'll be happy. When I get a raise I'll be happy. If I have a kid I'll be happy. If I could just have that black Vinyasa Scarf from Lululemon, then I will really be happy (this one's personal and it's a toss-up, that thing really does fill me with joy.)

Now, I know this is not true and that happiness comes from within because that is what people like Oprah Winfrey and Elizabeth Gilbert and Danielle LaPorte tell us on social media. But I'm starting to question them, because I'm pretty sure that today's breathlessly-anticipated grand opening of the Boston Public Market will literally change my entire life. I will finally find true and complete happiness simply because I will be the kind of person who shops at a public market. Everything will become amazing. 

I'll immediately lose my horrible junk food habit. People who shop at public markets don't eat Cool Ranch Doritos purchased at the store in their office building lobby. I'll have fresh flowers on my kitchen table at all times. I'll have an heirloom tomato sprinkled with sea salt for dinner after I make eye contact with the person who grew it while I pay cash for it because I'll become responsible and actually go to the ATM. The lighting in my apartment when I eat that tomato will be perfect. I'll always be prepared for guests with something unique and locally grown and when they ask me where it's from I'll casually tell them the life story of the person or animal responsible for it. I'll never be late for work again. I'll have a beeswax candle in a mason jar because it's less toxic than the Glade apple cinnamon candle I've been forced to put up with for years. My hair will be shinier. I'll wear a real, clean outfit to go grocery shopping at the market over the weekend. I'll wear a real, clean outfit everyday. I'll actually go grocery shopping. I'll smile at tourists when they walk slowly and aimlessly down my street and ask them if they need directions and welcome them to the neighborhood because I'm super calm and happy from taking the yoga classes offered by the market. I'll absolutely drink 8 glasses of water a day and get 8 hours of sleep a night. I will never be drunk again because the wine and beer and cider purchased at the market wouldn't do that to me. I'll feel fine about the $22 cheese I buy weekly because it's high-quality so I'll need to eat less of it and it will last WAY longer. Yes. I'll be a person who has a small wedge of cheese and that's enough. I'm satisfied. I swear. I don't need the whole wheel. The girls who make the gluten free fresh pasta available at the market will be my Facebook friends. We'll drink tea in the fall at some point.  I'll make big green salads in big beautiful wooden bowls. I should buy some salad servers. Handmade ones. On Etsy. 

Okay, I'll stop. In all seriousness I think this is an enormously exciting addition to my city. I love where I live. I love the people who live here and who make and grow beautiful and delicious things. I am so excited to now be able to experience them under one roof all year long and to support their businesses. Here is a list of the vendors if you care. Everyone come shop. But not all at once I'll get annoyed if it gets too crowded. Wait. No. Scratch that. People who shop at public markets don't get annoyed. 

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

This Is Not A Dress Rehearsal

I  keep waiting and waiting and waiting to write my first post on this THIRD iteration of Runaway Shopgirl. Waiting to find someone to help me with template design and jazz things up a bit, waiting to think of a significant topic for my first post that would set the tone, waiting for it to occur to me what I want that tone to even be. I have seven draft posts started and left to rot in my queue. The oldest is from over a year ago. It was about Mayor Menino. It was pretty good. But none of them have been right. So I've just left it blank.

I realized today that I approach a lot of things this way. I wait until things are just slightly better than their present state to actually do anything. And a lot of the time that leaves me very stunted.

I'm not going to take that yoga class I really like because my yoga pants are old and I won't feel fantastic enough. My feet also look terrible and if any of those perfect yoga swans so much as glances down at them I'll disintegrate into shame tears. Staying home.

I'm not buying a food processor even though I need one to make half the things I like to eat because I live alone and I'm not married. Only married people who have registered to receive a food processor as a gift should have one. (Really, Ann?)

I'm not going to actually decorate my apartment or hang anything on the walls because this just isn't ideal. I don't REALLY live here. I'll just store my belongings here with no semblance of order until my real, beautiful, perfect apartment falls into my lap. THEN I'll actually settle in and make it a home.

My grandmother had this big yellow button in her kitchen for a little while when I was a kid that said, "Enjoy your life. This is not a dress rehearsal." That button was not wrong. This is it. This is my life. This is my apartment. This is my marital status. These are my yoga pants. Those are my feet. And this is my first blog post on my third try at having a blog.