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Full Disclosure: What’s Stalking New Canaan

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Cheers to 2019 and here’s to hoping that most of New Canaan has broken their New Year’s resolutions, or at least cheated a little bit. That way, I can feel validated for not even trying to tweak my bad habits or curb my indulgences. Life’s too short to be anything other than perfectly imperfect. 

Sure, I could eat healthier, drink less wine and embrace the “hungry feeling,” but it’s too much fun and gratifying being a little bit bad. Plus, observing all of my friends’ self-torture from the sidelines is a hoot, and my new pastime. 

You see, a vast majority of my fellow New Canaanites have adopted the same health kick: “juicing.” 

And I don’t mean that they are engaging in illicit steroid use. Sadly, I think I am the only one who inwardly giggles when a “juicing” reference is made and I conjure up images of bikini clad, orange-stained bodybuilding New Canaan moms in a ‘roid-fueled rampage.

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Full Disclosure: Not Everyone Is an Athlete

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It escaped local media attention that I was trapped for two hours on a recent Tuesday night in a choir room with 30 middle school boys. 

Imagine sharing a cage full of rabid squirrels with opposable thumbs—it was worse. Partially my fault for giving in to misguided guilt, I volunteered to chaperone during play rehearsals. On my tour of duty, I was asked to contain the hyperactive thespians and to basically keep boys from “being boys”—as if evolutionary psychology was based on a hunch. I removed contraband electronics, non-sanctioned snacks, a pencil-shiv, and even disarmed a method actor brandishing a repurposed tissue box-turned-machete. During the choir room stand-off, I could not begin to fathom how these maniacs were going to pull off the musical production of Alice in Wonderland Jr.

Well, miracles do happen. On opening night, I sat up front and anxiously prayed for each mini-actor to become reincarnated as Liza Minnelli or Joel Grey.

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Full Disclosure: Slow Your Roll

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Why do I feel like I am already behind schedule for the holidays? It could be because I caught Post Office elves decking the halls weeks ago with winter displays. Or that stores had replaced Halloween candy with Christmas confections a week before Trick-or-Treaters set foot out the door. Perhaps running into my friend who was finishing her holiday gift shopping at The Whitney Shop sent me into a tailspin. No wonder why I feel holi-cray.

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Full Disclosure: Spot On

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I suffer from a little known, debilitating condition—‘PPA,’ parallel parking anxiety. Randy, my instructor from New Canaan’s Lewis School of Driving, diagnosed the affliction in 1990. To this day, should a spot open up on Elm Street that requires parallel parking, I white-knuckle the steering wheel and give myself a pep talk. I will never effortlessly glide into a parallel spot—especially when judgemental outdoor diners have front-row seats to my humiliation. If only I had a hologram-like Obi-Wan Kenobi version of Randy to calm me, I’d probably get past my parking issues.

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Full Disclosure: Call It a Comeback

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I blame my multi-year yoga hiatus on the CrossFit craze. ‘Workout of the Day’ posts were overwhelming my social media feeds. The enthusiasm for weightlifting, burpees and lady-muscles was unrelenting. I abandoned the self-love of yoga to abuse myself through masochistic forms of exercise. I didn’t have enough courage to join CrossFit per se, so I signed up for group powerlifting classes.