Friday, January 11, 2013

Turdy Tree

33 is a really tough age if you ask me.

Last year I was all "32 flavors and then some, taking my chances as they come." I totally had permission to rocket between a year-long internal sing-off between Ani and Alana Davis for my favorite version of that song.

And truthfully, 32 is even pushing it. I mean, Baskin-Robbins couldn't even think of an extra flavor to hit # 32. 

But 33? Wasn't that the life expectancy in the 50s?

I'm not big on the idea of my birthday. Our family is still high on the fumes of Felix's birthday just a few days back, and lest you forget, I have shared my birthday with my husband since meeting him over a decade ago. And that damn Princess Kate decided to steal my glory by having a birthday the same week as mine as well (...and by being the most beautiful pregnant person on the planet...and by pretending to play field hockey like me...and by copying me and marrying a guy with great manners who is prematurely balding. I mean, not to say that I am married to someone who is follicularly challenged...but I'll just insinuate it.)

I've decided that because I have such an amazing track record of making promises and keeping them: my 52 (err, 28) weeks of mail, my attempt at getting on the yeahwrite grid by the end of 2012, I would keep the tradition of failed challenges as we barrel into 2013:

33 random acts of kindness over the next 33 days. 

Please note I did not say 1 random act of kindness a day, but 33 by the end of 33 days.

And I can change that "days" to "weeks" if I want.

My birthday.
My blog.
My rules.

I came up with this idea quite a few months ago and told Eric about it as the first stage of accountability. And then I started chickening out of the whole mission. But then in December I read about the 26 random acts of kindness people were doing in response to the CT tragedy, and thought that I really could do this.

Today, day 1, I started off strong in concept, weak in execution/impact.

I've always wanted to give someone a 100% tip and leave before I could see the look of awe and excitement on his/her face.

So after dropping Miles off for school, I drove over to Starbucks and ordered the most expensive drink I could find and stomach (I've grown to love coffee this past year, but am not huge on the specialty drinks). I settled on a $5 venti Skinny mocha latte. After paying, I handed the barista an envelope with a $5 bill inside. I ran into my car and drove away.

So I didn't 100% tip on a $50 dinner...but I'm betting that barista made her next cup of coffee with a little more cheer in her step.

I will keep tally of my progress on the blog from time to time, but will probably have more real time picture updates on Instagram (find me at TEAMHEINTZ) and Facebook.

"...both my parents taught me about good will
and I have done well by their names
just the kindness I've lavished on strangers
is more than I can explain..." -Ani

PS: A shout out to my blogger friend Pyjammy, Pam! HB to you, too! My sistah from another mistah triplet mom just celebrated her birthday this week with a Starbucks treat as well. *Pam, I totally laughed when I saw your post and admittedly moved my Starbucks tip random act to #1 instead of #14.)

PPS: A shout out to my husband who is 32 flavors and then some as of today. The boys gave him a pair of socks each, and I gave him the opportunity to give me a shot of progesterone in my ass this morning...he can't say we don't spoil him. 

PPPS: Eric, happy thirty-two and a half birthday! I know you won't read this until then...


  1. happy birthday, my beautiful friend! i have an irish friend who i always make say words with TH sounds. when i was 33, it was music to my ears to hear him say "tirty-tree". love it. :)

  2. How did I not know that you now drink coffee??? You are really grown up now. At least that was always what I thought - that one would automatically like and drink coffee when one was grown up. Enjoy 33 - it beats being 62, believe me! Again, good luck with your random acts of kindness. That is a wonderful discipline. Love, Mom