I love making lists. The more detailed the list, the better. (Read: The more chances I have to cross things off said list!) Although I have a deep affinity for creating lists, I do not have a Bucket List—that is, a list of things I want to do before I die. If you have one, I think you’re forward thinking and organized, and I’m a little bit jealous. As of right now, the only item I’d know to add to my informal and undocumented Bucket List is this: 1. Make a Bucket List So I have some . . .
In 6th grade, I tried out for the dance squad at my junior high school. The coaches taught us a choreographed routine, and then we had to perform it in front of a panel of judges the following day. In the horrifying case that we forgot a part of the dance, we were instructed to smile and bounce in place until we could jump in on the next part of the routine. I literally smiled and bounced my way through the entire two and a half minute routine. The whole dance moved so quickly, that once I . . .
My husband and I recently went to a NFL playoff game. I was a fair-weather Seattle Seahawks fan when I met Darren, but marrying him made me an all-weather fan—the kind of fan who drives 7-hours one-way to attend a playoff game in support of the visiting team. We were full of excitement at the opportunity to see “our” team and visit a new city, but I hadn’t thought much about what it would be like to stand as the “outsider” in the Atlanta Falcon’s Georgia Dome. We were not just outnumbered; we . . .
I never really did get into making New Year’s resolutions, presumably for the same reason I never collected anything as a kid: nothing ever caught on. I’d soon lose track of the resolutions I wrote, much like how I would save a couple of bottle caps, call it a collection, and then completely forget about it. So as you can imagine, the beginning of January is tough for me. I’ll often try to treat it just like any other month, but our culture doesn’t. Everywhere I turn, I’m faced with ads not . . .
Have you ever walked into a room for a specific reason, only to suddenly realize you’ve forgotten the reason? It’s disorienting, maddening, and can make you feel like you’re one million years old—you had set out with clear intentions and, somewhere along the short way, your purpose was muddied. This has certainly happened to me before and it feels terrible. Lately, however, it hasn’t been an in-home errand I’m forgetting mid-way through, causing me to feel confused and crazy—it’s my vocation. . . .
Have you noticed it? I mean, that is actually a ridiculous question, because HOW COULD YOU NOT? Right there, in between my eyebrows—it’s only the most defined crease you could ever imagine. It’s a lifelong souvenir, received after 30+ years of furrowing my brow. In sunlight, frustration, confusion, or concentration, my brow furrows and I am mostly unaware of it until I see a photo of myself. The harsh crease jumps out at me immediately, leaving me incapable of noticing any other details in . . .