2007 wrap up

It's been a good year! And how could it not be when it was rung in with matching pajamas and good old pot and pan banging? I've been thinking about the collages Cath inspired our apartment to make in January... it's been fun to have a visual representation of my resolutions for the year. And while mine was practically a formulaic spreadsheet compared to the creativity of everyone else's it was a healthy exercise for me to use that other side of the brain (I always forget which side is which) at least once in the year, nevermind the fact that since January 9th I haven't even attempted a creative thought. And looking at it now, I think my collage is a pretty good representation of the year... Luckily I had the foresight to make "laziness" seem like a virtue by putting it in as a resolution (and boy did I outdo myself there). However, unfortunately my 2007 flossing record is less than 100%, but maybe next year's collage can give me better gum hygiene along with the perfect body that has also eluded me despite my including both in last year's goals. I guess that putting them on a piece of paper and then eating brownies for the next 364 days with only intermittent flossing doesn't really constitute change in either area...

And one last thought: I'm learning from Linds' example and my prior failures. Dating was featured (albeit subtlely) on Linds' collage last year, and she's been dating the most remarkable young man practically ever since. I completely overlooked dating on mine and I'm neither in like nor in love with anyone as the year comes to a close. Coincidence? I think not! But don't worry, I'm taking the proper precautions in this year's version (and just think... if linds' relatively small plug for relationships on last year's collage turned out so well, just think how successful a life-size promo will be!)

The Miracle of the Milk:

I would like to pay tribute to something I have grown to love since moving back home, and that is… my parents’ uncanny ability to constantly keep our house stocked with milk! Growing up I always took this for granted, as a sort of obvious (albeit unwritten--what were the founding fathers thinking?) right, but after the BYU years which included untold numbers of Sundays waking up to a cereal craving and a lactose-free fridge, I see my parents’ service as a true gift. And from my left-brained accounting perspective I really can’t make sense of how they can account so perfectly for variable milk consumption, which fluctuates drastically depending on brownie and cookie dough levels and would be extremely difficult to predict considering my impulsive treat-making tendencies. So in short, I’d like to send this ‘thank you’ into the void and express appreciation for what has become a small miracle in my life. No wonder I’m questioning moving out… who will take care of the milk?

Any Ideas? (Aside from cleaning my room)

Where does the time go? How does eight months turn into one and leave me nothing to show for the time but a few tests, a few trips, and a whole bunch of Café Rio stamps on my frequent diner cards! When I graduated and began my eight month self proclaimed sabbatical I had visions…But somehow reality is setting in and I’m realizing that my aspirations may have been a bit lofty and that I may have failed to live up to all of my many expectations.

I’m not trying to discount how amazing the whole experience has been. I wouldn’t go back and change any of it… (Europe, family/friend time, Sidney Bristow—all incredible). I’m just annoyed that I’m still me. Eight months is enough time to do most anything, but evidently turning myself into the perfect person is apparently up there in the long-term category with world peace and child-bearing… blast! (and wretch).

So now here I am with exactly *one month remaining, and I’m grappling with finding a more realistic view of what to accomplish with my time. My dad suggested writing a book (because that's realistic!). My mom suggested cleaning my room (in fact she’s instituted an incentive program in which I get paid for every bag of clothes I give away to the d.i.). Neither of which I’ve done. So if anybody has any one-month suggestions, I’d greatly appreciate them! Keep in mind my financial situation is fragile (or at least it was several thousand dollars ago). Now it’s in complete disrepair.

*A point of clarification: when I say one month left people assume I mean until my job starts, but what I mean is until my life ends! Selling one’s soul to the public accounting profession is not something you do lightly, and my coping mechanism thus far (for the anticipation alone) has been to assume the worst!

A pack-rat no more thanks to... Oprah

Ever since watching an A&E biography on the rise of Oprah’s empire I’ve admired her success and envied her many houses. And yet, I’ve always questioned the worth of a career that is completely dependent on the loyalty of people who have nothing better to do between four and five every afternoon!

I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly announce how wrong I was! Her show is NOT just fun and games. It covers valuable, much-needed material. And only Oprah knows how to best provide such information to the masses. I’d go so far as to hold her up as a modern-day Guttenberg. Take her two-day special on hoarding… changed my life! It finally gave me the courage to get rid of all the junk that I have so meticulously organized into the most ridiculous files conceivable. YEARS of junk masquerading as worth-while stuff just because it was well-labeled into neat little files. Like the one with the muscle strengthening exercises from my speech therapy and tongue thrust sessions I had as a kid. What is so scary is how I deluded myself into saving them all these years… as though I thought I’d be needing to study up on the correct usage of a tongue-depressor or how to properly form ‘tz’ sounds! And what is more scary is that it was actually hard to get rid of them.

*Special thanks to my dad for hauling a wheel-barrow into the house to get rid of everything before I had time to rationalize potential uses for it all.
*And special thanks to my mom for allowing my dad to do so.

“Ohhhhh Mexico”

I remember apologizing for everything when I was 13. And I saw nothing wrong with it. I think I mistook apologizing as some higher form of politeness. I had no idea that apologizing when I had done nothing wrong was extremely annoying to those around me… well, now I know!

In keeping with my resolution NOT to apologize when it’s unmerited, I refuse to start this post with an apology. That’d be annoying! But I haven’t come so far from my 13-year old ways that I can just leave my weeks of neglect towards this blog un-answered. That said, I was thinking an excuse might do the trick to satisfy my conscience…

So…I was cruising with Tiff in Mexico! And I would like to express my thanks (through this void that is the internet) to all those people that make cruising possible in its verb form. The week was simply divine. There was a comical moment (the night that we had our nerve-racking dinner at the captain’s table) when I kept slipping and calling our cruiseliner a boat and the assistant captain kept correcting me… “ship!” It felt like Pirates. Anyhow, Tiff and I have resolved that all of our friends need to ‘cruise’ together… we’re thinking May. How does that sound? Please RSVP promptly.

What a beaut*!

Well, I’d like to start by publicly apologizing for neglecting my duties of late. I have fallen quite behind in facebook, google chat, and even Hannah Montana time (which is akin to sacrilege)! Not to mention my newly minted blog, which once created started staring at me as just another neglected responsibility… oh boy!

Luckily I have a legitimate excuse (equivalent to school-excused absences, which you will recall were of the highest order), but before I come clean about my embarrassing little project which has kept me sneaking around in my white incognito hat all week for fear of discovery, I’d like to say that when I deferred my start date at PwC I never envisioned the entrepreneurial activities I’d be engaged in this fall… my own little foray into used car sales!

So if you can’t tell from the pics, I sold my family’s beloved Cadillac. However, judging by the enthusiasm created by getting rid of it, maybe it wasn’t so beloved after all. I know my friends were always embarrassed when I picked them up in it (Lauren in particular), and I myself wondered if there would be a correlation between my parents owning a Cadillac and pre-maturely needing hip replacements… because honestly, what couple under 50 owns a Caddy?

The scary thing being how much my mom really did enjoy “its smooth ride,” especially considering how she stumbled upon it at one of her favorite Saturday-afternoon auction/estate sales and bought it without either seeing it or consulting with my dad before out-bidding her competition of geriatrics.

Alas, adieu to such a wonderful car—even if I never was able to appreciate it for what it was… a real beaut!

*After some debate and inner turmoil as to how to spell ‘beaut,’ Steph supported my decision to go with this spelling… so I’d like to express my thanks to her—not only an ideal friend to raise cats and crochet with, but a spelling consultant as well!

Sorry I'm late

I remember taking a personality survey in one of my business classes that told me I’m a “late adapter.” The other kids in the class were pleased by their results… they were cutting edge. They weren’t afraid of change. They were on the fast track to success. And THEY have undoubtedly been blogging for years. (not to mention the fact that they probably drink plenty of water!) But what else is new? I’m always years behind. It took me forever to accept stretch pants as a kid, wear capris as a teenager, and get my ears pierced as an adult! I always seem to be jumping on the trend bandwagon right as it runs out of gas. I will never forget buying a troll in third grade (months after everyone else) and the first day I took it to recess was the last day they were played with… So please don’t stop blogging on my account.