Happy Halloweekend!

Okay, so remember how I was going to be a loofah for Halloween/on the next season of So You Think You Can Sew? That might not actually pan out. After two nights of sewing, pinning, cutting, tulle-ing and re-tulle-ing, my loofah looks decidedly like a big, shiny, lavender cotton ball. Or perhaps a full-body strapless purple tutu for an insane ballerina. Or maybe an iridescent bunch of Candy Land-style grapes. Or a Katy Perry outfit. Whatever it is, it doesn't look much like a loofah. This is the part where I make a joke about feeling aloof-ah about my loofah costume. Right?

Does anyone actually like candy corn?

Perhaps some additional folding and fluffing of the tulle would help, but alas, my schedule has not allowed much time for this, so it'll have to wait til Halloween 2k12. Nothing says festive like a 30 year old human-sized loofah. Thankfully, I have a costume from a couple years ago I'm going to drop on Ann Arbor tonight. It involves toy snakes and fake eyelashes, so I'm totally happy.


Halloween always makes me miss being a kid a little bit. I had some pretty awesome costumes when I was a kid: Marge Simpson, a Christmas present (to accommodate a broken elbow and associated hot pink cast), Barbara Bush (the elder, not the twin), a severely injured person (okay this is weird...but I had crutches, an Ace bandage and a dream), a gypsy. I had an amazing, cloth pumpkin bag for trick-or-treating that was far more chic than the hooligans with their pillowcases. And I had neighbors who appreciated that DumDum lollipops are great for displaying at the cash register of a Chinese restaurant, but Halloween candy needs to be substantial, and have shiny wrappers and preferably a high peanut butter-to-chocolate ratio.


But alas, there will be no trick-or-treating in my immediate future, but there WILL be friends who take costumes and theme parties seriously. And hopefully some bite-sized chocolate. Which is really all I need anyway. That, and some eyelash glue.


Happy Halloween everyone!

Off-List Item #1: Sew Halloween Costume

Denial is a lovely shade of taupe.

So, I have reached the point in my semester where I literally don't know how all the work I have to do is going to get done. I freaked out a little bit earlier, but now I've wrapped myself in the warm, comfortable confines of denial. Deep, deep denial. It's sort of like a chenille blanket, woven from indifference, angst and a wee bit of idiocy. And here I am, blogging instead of writing the bobillion papers I should actually be doing...


As I was walking to work today, I was thinking about my list. I'm super, super excited about all the stuff on there (well, maybe except the TV-free for a week thing...but I'll put that off for a bit) but I realize that a lot of it requires some level of planning, or at least some forethought. But since the whole 30 Before 30 thing is about trying new things, then I figure, why not celebrate the somewhat-less-monumental-but-still-new stuff that I do? So I present to you, my new "Off-List Items" feature...


Dressing up for Halloween is one of my favorite holiday traditions, and yet one I put an astonishingly little amount of effort into preparing for. I remember Halloween my sophomore year in college, when my roommate Caitlin and I had plans to go to Zanzibar in DC for their costume dance party (please, somebody understand how shady this is). I recall a lot of brainstorming of brilliant, even genius, costume ideas. And yet I also recall going to the picked-over Halloween costume shop at the Georgetown Park mall the night before, and purchasing an overpriced red feathered-and-sequined headpiece that I wore, with heavy eyeliner and a black outfit, as my costume the next day. I have absolutely no idea what I was, though I guess in retrospect "Half-Assed Atlantic City Showgirl" was probably about right.

What has 2 thumbs and hates Drew Carey?

Grad school has done something for my costume-planning abilities though, because last year I went to the craft store and actually fabricated my own costume (see picture) in advance of Halloween. Though slightly cumbersome at bars and parties, it was generally a hit, especially among game show enthusiasts generally and Bob Barker fans specifically. 


So yesterday, I was back at JoAnn Fabrics, this time with my friend Lindsay in search of the perfect tulle. Are we going to be ballerinas, you ask? Nay, nay my friends. We are going to be loofahs. It's been a dream of mine since seeing a few pictures online a couple Halloweens ago...though according to the undergrad who was ALSO buying loofah material last night, and is allegedly organizing an army of 19 year old loofahs in her house, this idea is super on trend this year. Thank goodness, too...at 29, I'd hate to think I'd become a Halloween fuddy duddy.


With human-sized loofah fixin's in hand, we retired to Lindsay's apartment to get all sassy Christian Siriano with her friend's sewing machine. Now, I mayyy have misrepresented myself slightly when I told her I "know how to use a sewing machine". By that I mean, 20 years ago I made a dress for Samantha, my American Girl doll, in a kids sewing class in Hudson, OH. But I refused to let this sewing machine get me down...I grabbed the manual and set to work learning what a "needle" and "thread" and "stitches" are. But seriously, I learned how to thread a bobbin. And wind a bobbin! I didn't even know what a bobbin was until last night! Accomplishments!


Then I took the nude-colored stretchy material we bought to serve as the underpinnings of the loofah, and I sewed us two of the ugliest, most ill-fitting tube dresses you could possibly imagine. But it was a start! I began with a piece of fabric whose edges were not connected and ended with a piece of fabric whose edges were connected. BOOM. Now we just have to pin all the tulle onto the dresses and hope that the result is decidedly loofah-ish. 


And if it isn't, I'll just have to defer my Project Runway application until next year.

Pop Tarts & Planning.

I just returned from a truly, truly fabulous weekend in Washington, D.C., my old stomping grounds, celebrating the nuptials of one of my dearest friends, Marisa, and her fantastic new husband Dan. It was a fun, packed weekend -- dinner at Ping Pong Dim Sum, drinks at The Passenger (order the Last Word, you won't be sorry), brunch at Ted's Bulletin (check out that picture of their homemade Pop Tarts). And, of course, a full day of wedding celebrations, complete with a late-night dance party at Molly Malone's with the bride and groom. After a couple of stressful, midterm-y, head cold-y weeks, it was exactly the weekend I needed.

I've been thinking a lot about some of the bigger points on my list, particularly #1, the marathon. I've had lots of awesome suggestions of good races to look into, but the one that's always been on my mind -- and even more so after being in D.C. this weekend -- is the Marine Corps Marathon, and I think I've settled on that one as my goal. Everyone I know who has run it had a great experience, plus there are some other perks -- places to stay, friends to celebrate with, and a familiar course. There's a pretty decent chance I'll end up living back in D.C. after graduation anyway, and if not, it would be a great excuse to visit a place I really love. Registration isn't until early March, so I've got some time to decide, but for now I'm feeling good about this one (and also completely freaked out, but that's most likely because I haven't been to the gym in a couple weeks).

So, maybe I'll reintroduce myself to the treadmill tomorrow. That's a start.

Where To Begin?

After posting my list last night, I went to bed feeling excited, energized and totally pumped for the next year. Then, on this gray and rainy morning as I stared at my list in the middle of class, the only thing that went through my mind, in addition to some choice expletives that I will spare my parents (hi guys!) from reading was: how the hell am I going to do all this?

And then, I started getting emails. And Gchats, and text messages. From my fantastic friends, not only telling me that they thought my list was great, but expressing interest -- nay, excitement! -- about completing some of the stuff with me. Remote Dostoyevsky book clubs? Check. Offers of places to stay in Vegas? Check. Suggestions for what movie to see while costumed? Check. (Rocky Horror seems to be the overwhelming favorite, though I checked the State Theater schedule and they're showing Cool as Ice, the 1991 remake of Rebel Without a Cause starring Vanilla Ice, at midnight in a few weeks...just saying).

See, I told you this blog would keep me honest! I was about ready to throw in the towel less than 24 hours in, but now, I'm back on board. I've said it before, I'll say it again: let's do this.

So, I ordered a used copy of The Brothers Karamazov -- all 796 pages of it -- for $8 on Amazon. I researched some upcoming marathons, though would gladly accept suggestions for good ones (with flat courses...and maybe beer at the finish line). 


But I think the most important thing I did today -- thanks to my friends -- was remind myself that this project isn't about feeling overwhelmed or anxious about checking things off my list. It's about challenging myself to grow and try new things, and appreciating the support I know I'll have along the way.

The List.

So, as it turns out, this "30 Before 30" thing is actually quite popular. Just Google it and you'll see. Self-improvement fueled by a birthday milestone-related freak-out is way trendy.

One thing that struck me when reading through some of these lists, though, was the lack of emphasis placed on self-actualization. And by that I mean, "fall in love", "get married" and "have kids" were popular items, and on the lists of people who seem otherwise single and child-less. Setting goals is one thing; putting the ability to achieve these goals firmly in the hands of of someone else is quite another.

That said, here is my list, created with ambition, but also with an actual desire and intention to complete all 30 items in the next calendar year. Some of the bigger ones (numbers 1, 2, 4, 22...) will require planning, while some of the others (numbers 7, 19, 21, 28...) might happen on a whim. And I threw in a couple of freebies (numbers 8 and 30, specifically) for myself that still should be fun to write about, even though I know they're going to happen.

Now, here's the important part: who's joining me? If you see anything on here that tickles your fancy, something you're planning on doing or have been meaning to do, and want to do it with me, just let me know! If you're reading this, you probably have my email address, so just shoot me a message and let's dooo this.

My 30 before 30...

1. Run a full marathon.

2. Take a multi-day road trip, and extensively document it with photographs.

3. Cook a four-course meal and host a dinner party for friends.

4. Indulge in crepes and champagne in Paris.

5. Scream my face off on a roller coaster.

6. Attempt to salsa dance with reckless abandon at Cafe Habana.

7. Take myself out to lunch -- by myself -- and resist the urge to feel self-conscious.

8. Get a graduate degree.

9. Throw an amazing party, and find an amazing party dress to wear to it.

10. Put together a weekly flower arrangement for myself, for one whole month.

11. Watch the sunset from a hot air balloon.

12. Buy a bottle of wine that should be consumed only for a monumentally celebratory occasion. Drink it on a Tuesday night, for absolutely no reason.

13. Take a Michigan day trip.

14. Spend one whole day watching my favorite movies on the couch, without feeling guilty for being so lazy.

15. Clean out my closet, and donate the clothes I don't wear to Goodwill. Immediately go out and purchase a new, fantastic piece of clothing to fill the now-empty closet space.

16. Read The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

17. Go vegetarian for a week, and try out some new, non-meat recipes.

18. Go to an outdoor, live music festival -- preferably via RV.

19. Spend an afternoon building a snowman.

20. Buy one piece of original artwork for myself.

21. Write the people I love letters telling them why. Send them.

22. Visit Las Vegas, and bet on 30 in roulette. Be happy even if I don't win.

23. Get a major haircut.

24. Try speed dating, and then laugh about it after over cocktails with friends.

25. Go to a midnight moving showing, in costume.

26. Go TV-free for one whole week.

27. Spend an entire day on a boat.

28. Bake and decorate a cake from scratch, including the icing.

29. Visit a vineyard, sample the wine, and then buy a bottle of my favorite to take home.

30. Officiate a wedding.

Giddyup.

I miss being 7.

Okay, that's a lie. First of all, I don't really remember what it was like to be 7, other than the fact that current realities like utility bills, cell phone insurance and underwire weren't even on my radar. But I do remember what birthdays were like around that age: full of gut-churning excitement, plastic party favors, pastel cake frosting and toys.

And I don't mean "toys" in the way wealthy, balding bankers describe iPads or their midlife crisis BMWs. I mean toys like TOYS. Like, Toys-R-Us toys ripped straight out of shiny, brightly colored cardboard boxes. I was a Lego kind of girl, but I've also never met a board game or word search puzzle book I didn't like.

I just turned 29 last week, and my birthday was decidedly toy-less. I don't mean to sound ungrateful; in fact, I was overwhelmed and humbled by the love I felt on my big day. I got lovely cards from family and friends in the mail, including homemade ones from my mom and dad. I got an amazing birthday package from my friend Kristin Ann complete with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles jumbo coffee mug, Royal Wedding-branded tea and a phenomenal plumping lip gloss that, ironically, tastes just like birthday cake frosting (though knowing her thoughtfulness, that probably wasn't a coincidence). I got text messages, Facebook posts, emails, phone calls and hilariously inappropriate e-cards from my amazing friends both near and far. I got peanut butter brownie Stucchi's ice cream at lunchtime from my coworkers. And I got vodka drunk and sang "Juicy" by Notorious B.I.G. at karaoke with my awesome friends from grad school.

I also got reflective. Annoyingly reflective. About life, career ambitions, relationships past and present, and all those things, large and small, that I've said I've wanted to do but haven't yet. There are lots of things I don't know about one year from now: where I'll be living, what I'll be doing, and basically everything else. As someone who would consider "making to-do lists" a hobby, the uncertainty of what to plan for is, at best, unsettling, and at worst, completely, utterly terrifying.

So while I may not know a lot, I know this one thing: I turn 30 in one year, and I have the overpowering desire to enter that decade feeling as happy, accomplished and satisfied with myself as is humanly possible, no matter where I'm living or what I'm doing. It's how I feel from January 1st until approximately January 4th, when I forget my resolutions, or get distracted, or just become lazy.

So this list-making enthusiast is coming up with 30 things to do in the next twelve months, things both monumental and mundane. And this blog, and you, will help keep me honest. I'll document my quest to complete these 30 tasks here, as well as all the things that happen in between.

And in one year, I'll throw a sick 30th birthday party, complete with teeth-achingly sweet cake frosting, part hats, and all the Andre your heart desires. And you'll all be invited.