Photo: Thinkstock

Back in the days of yore, my dad called his parenting technique "the carrot and the stick." This metaphor probably had something to do with his own childhood, spent on a ranch raising sheep. The "carrot" part occurred when he'd offer me jelly beans in order to get me to do something I didn't want to do—for example, wash his truck or keep hiking up a steep mountain trail. The "stick"  part occurred when he'd yell at me in the world's deepest and most booming voice, also to get me to do something I didn't want to do—for example, wash his truck or keep hiking up a steep mountain trail. He switched between the two methods at whim and to great success, at least in my book. As a child, I did what my dad said.

Now we're all our own parents, and there are so many things we don't want to do. Like wake up at 6 in the morning and pay the bills we ignored the night before (whoops, slept in) or get to the gym as we publicly vowed to do in 2012 while tipsy on New Year Eve. Luckily, A new service called Gym Pact, which appeared in the New York Times this week has come to our aid, using an app that mimics my dad's old fashioned method. Basically you sign up on your smart phone and register how many days you want to commit to working out. The gym's computers are linked to the app, so if you don't go, you get fined $5. If you do go, you get paid—that's right, paid!—an amount that's determined each week by pooling and dividing all the money collected from no-goers. Right now that's about $1.50 a week, or $6 a month—an amount that I will try to  spend on organic kale or carrots, but will probably spend on...jelly beans.

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Photo: Think Stock

This is a going to sound a little dry, but go with me: Five hundred years ago, Leonardo Da Vinci discovered that when a tree branch forks in order to grow two new branches, the total surface area of the two new thinner ones will equal the surface area of the thicker original—exactly. Each newbie, in turn, will produce two even thinner branches using the same formula....and so on, as the tree grows out and up, as if it has a brain capable of doing math.

Last week, NPR reported that a French physicist figured out why. By reproducing its area in this precise way, a tree is best able to withstand high winds and not fall over during storms and hurricanes. The writer suggested that architects and engineers might use its structure as a model for constructing buildings. I, however, am beginning to think I may need to use it as model for dealing with life. I'm no Renaissance-era genius, but it seems to me what the tree is doing is divvy the amount of space it takes up in the world—getting smaller and more flexible, the further it gets from its sturdy center, so that that it can sway when stressed.

These days, I have a pretty good idea of what lies my own sturdy center: kids, husband, job. About these things I am rigid. There must be time made for them, period! This has come about as a result of a brutal learning process, during which I had previous thought a lot of other things (say, my buckling tile bathroom) were also at my center. Sadly, they are not, and my first impulse was to chop all those other things off. No time to see friends for dinner? Then just don't have friends. No time to shop? Just wear your old bras until your babysitter sees the black one in the dirty laundry basket and thinks it's a part of a ripped spiderweb costume. But the truth is, these lesser things need to remain on the tree or you'll end up broken and blown away. The trick probably is finding the right branch for each expectation: a stout one for my friends (meet them for a quick coffee instead of dinner), a slender bendy one for my new bras (order several online and count on at least one fitting), and even a potentially breakable tiny twig for the bathroom tile (fix it next year...or maybe never). Not only will the structure protect you from high winds and stress, but it might also protect anybody who'd like to lean against you.

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This year, there are few long-term projects that I have been working on that I've seriously been considering abandoning. Number one is cooking. I am not sure if I am better cook that I was a decade ago, despite my experiments with intimidating ingredients like shellfish and kale, not to mention new cuisines like Indian. Why not give it up for 2012 and eat nothing but fast, easy chicken breasts? The same goes for playing the guitar. It takes me months to learn one measly song. I am tired. I have kids. I have a job in the morning. Why not relax at night and watch TV instead?

Then I stumbled this short film by Denis Chapon on Laughing Squid. Every day for the last three years, Denis has drawn 12 drawings, each on piece of leftover  paper he found in his company's copier room. At the end of the 795 days, he had 9,540 illustrations, which, when put in order made this  four minute, two second long film:

12 Drawings a Day - 12 Dessins par Jour from Denis Chapon on Vimeo.

Chapon claims that he didn't write a script for the film. There is no romantic story, thrilling action sequence or stunning  climax. But there is a testimony to the power of chipping away at a larger, unseen goal, adding to the artistic kitty bit by bit, page by page, line by line until you have a body of work that is yours. It's no accident, after all that he called his totally non-realistic film an "animated diary." He may not have recorded his activities each day, much less his love life or dinner choices, but at the same he did record the larger, more beautiful truth of his life—from the dark days when you feel like throwing your refrigerator and desk out the window to the happier one when so-called bombs turn into bluebirds and fly gracefully away.
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Monday is too stressful. Wednesday is already hump day. But Tuesday is "you" day: a day when you have the energy to do—or plan—something fresh and unexpected that might just turn your whole week around.

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Anne Hathaway announced her engagement to—hurray!—a nice guy. How to get over toxic relationships—and move onto love.

Relax this Sunday, while still indulging in the joys of National Cookie Day. How make a cookie that only requires 2 ingredients.

Monday is too stressful. Wednesday is already hump day. But Tuesday is "you" day: a day when you have the energy to do—or plan—something fresh and unexpected that might just turn your whole week around.

Try out the newest, strangest foodie trend. How to make a meat cupcake (and eat it too!)

Get ready for Thanksgiving by doing something you might forget. How to get your car ready for the long drive to Grandma's house.

There's—finally—a nip in the air, and scarfs at department stores now cost $100. How to knit a chunky, fashionable scarf that requires no skill, pattern or even talent.

A little known fact: Black Friday is also known as Buy Nothing Today. How to resolve conflicts between someone who is desperate to shop at dawn and someone who isn't—or just restore the peace after other kinds of extended family discord.

The holidays are now officially underway. How to get realistic about how overboard you're going to go when it comes to festive treats with a little quiz: can you tell which slice of pumpkin pie is 100 calories?

Monday is too stressful. Wednesday is already hump day. But Tuesday is "you" day: a day when you have the energy to do—or plan—something fresh and unexpected that might just turn your whole week around.