Day 31: Jambo

Before today, the only Swahili I knew came from "The Lion King," a Johnny Clegg song I first heard in "George of the Jungle," and bits of "The Last King of Scotland." In other words, it was limited to hakuna matata, simba, and dela.

As a few of my friends and I agreed that 2007 was a crappy year all around, we decided to come up with one thing we would all do each month, to keep us close despite our distance, and to work at making 2008 a good year. January's goal: learn to count to ten in another language. So, I taught myself to count to ten in Swahili.

1 = moja
2 = mbili
3 = tatu
4 = nne
5 = tano
6 = sita
7 = saba
8 = nane
9 = tisa
10 = kumi

Which means, if I take my time*, I can count to ten in English, Spanish, French, and Swahili. I have absolutely no idea when I will need to count to ten in four languages, or if I can put it on my resume, but you never know. Maybe one day I'll interview an African or French or Spanish leader who won't let me proceed until I count the number of apples on a table. I don't know. But I'll be ready.

*I learned while trying to do it in French for a friend that I tend to lapse into Spanish, and, inexplicably, German. I did not know I knew any German. I probably don't, but sometimes just saying anything with a semi-abrasive tone makes it sound German.

Day 30: Vest up!

"I think vests are all about protection. You know what I mean? Like a lifevest protects you from drowning and a bulletproof vest protects you from getting shot and the sweatervest protects you from pretty girls. 'Leave me alone. Can't you see I'm cold just right here?'"
-Demetri Martin

Today I was protected from harm because I wore a vest. Following his logic, I suppose a dressy vest worn in an office should protect one from stray staples. Or irate personnel. Or maybe not protect one at all, but lead people to think you are a waiter. Luckily, for once in my life, no mistaken identity today.


I think pairing it with a skirt and tall boots kept people from tossing me their keys to park their car. (And thus kept everyone else from hearing about a 10-car pile-up in a parking lot in McLean due to a license-less valet.)

Also, this isn't a new new thing, just new to me as an adult. The last time I wore a vest was in the sixth grade, and I have the class picture, buried somewhere at home, to prove it. Which I do not feel the need to do.

Sadly, the vest did not have the same power as the cowboy boots. I'm not sure I could have kicked anyone's ass today. But I'm pretty sure I could have helped sell a few Girl Scout cookies.

Day 29: If DJ Jazzy Jeff can do it, so can I.

To be honest, I don't really get the whole DJ thing. To me, it's just pushing play on a CD or iPod, and letting everyone else (i.e. the musicians) do the work. I know there are schools for it and people like DJ AM and Mark Ronson are all famous for it, but I just don't get it. But, I looked up what my DJ name would be anyway. Introducing...
Wooooo... Or not. It makes me think of Barack Obama, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn't scream cool either. Of course, I already said I don't think DJs are cool, so it doesn't really matter.

Now that I have an official DJ name, I can't just rest on that. I had to follow it up with a playlist, which if you aren't bored to tears yet, you can check out. (Click to enlarge.)

So how did the famed DJ Rush come up with her playlist? Meh, it's what was on my most recently played listed. I'm sure that's all the greats do anyway.

Day 28: Kid you good lookin' but you don't know what's cookin' till you hey mambo

Aside from my propensity to talk with my hands, and my knowledge of native obscene gestures, I pretty much fail at being a 25% Italian woman. I have trouble pronouncing gnocchi. I buy whatever spaghetti is on sale. And I'd be more likely to use a pasta maker to iron socks than make actual pasta. But nevertheless, I love my Italian food and my Italian heritage. And my spaghetti, which I spiced up tonite with some seasoning and a little tomato creation on the side. I added some basil and garlic, which took my 99 cent Harris Teeter brand angel hair pasta to another level. I also took a few slices of tomato, added mozzarella and basil, and microwaved for 15 seconds. I have no idea what this is called, but it was good.
Thanks to Steve & Barry's for my wardrobe tonite, which I thought only appropriate.

My only regret? That I was too chicken to try a little parsely, sage, rosemary, and thyme, in honor of Mr. Simon and Mr. Garfunkel. (But mainly Mr. Garfunkel because he's my fave.) Oh well, something new to try another day.

Day 27: Go Twerps! (I guess.)

I'm almost ashamed to put this one down. But in a battle between evil and more evil, you just have to go with the evil. And it's even more improbable when considering what happened about this time last week, but tonite, I pulled for Maryland. And yes, I am hanging my head in shame. But when Duke/Dook/Puke is the other team, and they are ahead of you in the rankings, it's necessary to pull for the lowly turtle. I guess it only makes sense that after fighting to force the words "go Maryland" out of my mouth, they would lose. But at least I am justified in my hatred for their RIDICULOUS mascot, and confident that I am still correct in my belief that there is some hole in the time-space continuum in College Park that allowed D.J. Strawberry to play for the seven years that it felt like he was there for. At least it allowed me to practice my Duke-bashing. Always a good thing.

Day 26: Not exactly wasting away in Margaritaville

Two important things about me that convey why this new thing is a disappointing new thing. First, I don't like to waste money. Second, I really don't like to waste a good margarita. But tonite I couldn't finish my margarita at dinner, which I have definitely never done before. While I've had way more food before tonite and finished my drink, I'm just going to blame it on El Rodeo. Though it is still my most favorite Mexican restaurant ever, I think they put something in my tamale. That's the only legitimate reason I can think to let a perfectly lovely drink of lime perfection go to waste. Sorry, Jimmy B, I failed you.

*Yeah, kind of sucky new thing today. But it was a different kind of day and doing something new just wasn't a priority.

Day 25: These boots are made for walking

First things first, I have freakishly small feet. I'm 5'8.5" but wear a size 7/8 shoe. All my research indicates this is abnormal. (By research I mean asking my friends and family and doing a few searches on the Internet.) But I learned this summer it may just run in the family, as my Poppy had quite small feet too. Which is how I came to possess an authentic pair of Texas cowboy boots after his passing this year. Today I embraced the Texan blood in me and wore cowboy boots all day. And, I guess, I also walked a mile in someone else's shoes.

Nothing says cowboy like my frat-boy blue pants.



All in all, I'm kind of fond of them. I felt quite snazzy all day, actually. And I'm pretty sure I could have kicked someone's ass were a situation to arise. Actually, I'm quite certain of it. You just don't mess with someone in cowboy boots.

Day 24: I'm Lovin' It

I have a serious weakness for McDonald's. And I'm not ashamed of it. I don't care what "Fast Food Nation" says, or what happened to Morgan Spurlock, I love their fries, their hamburgers, and most of all, their Happy Meal toys. Luckily for my heart and cholesterol and waistline, I have no idea where the closest one to my apartment is. But there is one less than five minutes from my current job. Going to the place itself is not new, but going and getting lunch for my co-workers is. (I've never collected lunch for co-workers before.) Today I took orders, collected money, and then was that person in line with the little scratch sheet of paper repeating every thing fifteen times to make sure it was correct. I was then also the person who forgot sauces, napkins, and straws. Yep. Not sure they'll asking me to go on a lunch run again anytime soon.

Day 23: Best new thing of all (so far)

Today I got a job.

No more desperate searching, no more killer, literally, temp jobs. No more worrying about getting hit by cars and having no way to pay for it since I'll have health insurance.

It all happened very quickly, as I just interviewed yesterday, but starting Feb. 4 I begin my first job with benefits, first job where I don't know the end date in advance.

I'll be working at a place in old town Alexandria. My official title is "instructional designer." They design training materials for different clients, and I'll be writing, editing, and developing these materials. It is not what I thought I wanted, but after interviewing for it, I know it's something that would fit for me, and that I think I could be good at.

So that's that for now. More information as I know it. (And I'll update for the past few days later.) Right now, as I fell asleep during the UNC game - gasp! - it's time for bed.

Day 22: I swear I think book stores are sacred

I used to use dressing rooms in London to fix my hair and make-up before a job interview or going to the theatre. With free public restrooms seriously lacking in most of Europe, I had to get creative when needing to add a little blush or brush my hair while out and about for the day. Just head to Gap or Top Shop, grab a pair of jeans for cover, and spruce away.

Today, however, I took using public facilities to a different use while out and about, when I changed my clothes in the bathroom of a Books-a-Million.

It was not until I actually typed that last sentence that I realize how ludicrous/sketchy/pathetic this sounds. But, in my defense, it was in the 30s, I had on a suit, heels, and panty hose, and it was FREEZING. And my feet hurt. And I still feel like a child playing dress up in her mother's clothes whenever I wear my suit, so I wanted to get out of it and into jeans ASAP. (Jeans, which, by the way, I bought for $7 at Gap! Heck yes.)

Thanks to the BAM in Old Town Alexandria, and your bathroom key attached to a giant piece of plastic.

Day 21: Honoring the dream

In my un-codified list of heroes, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is high up there. I admire his supreme dedication to his faith and social beliefs, his courage and fortitude, and for the effect he had on his country. I know the recent trend to diminish his importance by questioning his personal life, but, for me, it doesn't really matter at this point. I admire the work he has done too much.

In honor of today, I donated a few dollars to Build the Dream, the fund to build a memorial to him in Washington, DC. I am always intrigued by memorials, their design and function, and would like to see his come to fruition.

"Darkness can not drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate can not drive out hate, only love can do that."

Day 20: "Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce." -JFK

It did not get out of the 30s here today. Or so weather.com has shown, as I have not left my apartment all day. Oops. But I have a new heater, a steaming cup of tea and football is on in the background, so really, why would I need to leave?

According to my page-a-day History Channel calendar, on this day in 1961 was the inauguration of John F. Kennedy. And as the calendar explained, Robert Frost recited a poem at the ceremony entitled "The Gift Outright." Frost is one of about only five poets I enjoy, and Mom's favorite, but as I had not read this one, I googled the poem and was taken to the JFK Presidential Library, where I read it for the first time.

The Gift Outright by Robert Frost
The land was ours before we were the land’s
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people. She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia,
But we were England’s, still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding made us weak
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she will become.

Not that it matters, but I approve. :-)

Day 19: Burning down the house (not a cooking entry)

I didn't actually burn down the house. I did stink it up a little though by lighting some incense I got from my holiday in Lanzarote. I had never owned incense before, but bought it on impulse at the airport (and a few for my friends too) expressly because it was different.
I'm not entirely sure what the scent was, as I bought it primarily for the pretty color, but after about 10 minutes of it, it was no longer pleasant. So were I to use in religious ceremony, which per Wikipedia is one of its uses, I think it could clear a house of worship. However, if I were using it to cover my illicit drug use, I think it would definitely do the job.

Day 18: "I guess if it's going to happen it's going to happen to you." (Aunt Amee)

I do believe the comment left by my Aunt Amee in reference to my filing cabinet incident, does pretty much sum up about...83% of what happens in my life. The 83% representing the percentage of my life experiences that fall into the embarrassing, unbelievable, and just plain absurd category.

Like today. When I unwittingly dressed like Santa Claus. I hesitated to mark this as a new thing, but when you realize about two hours into your day that you do in fact resemble the big man in red, I think it's fair to count it as a new thing. And one that most certainly will NOT be repeated.

How does this happen, and how does one not realize it until almost at the entrance to her work?
Step 1: Find black velvet pants in closet, wear them.
Step 2: Wear black snow boots expressly to avoid anything embarrassing. (I.e. falling in slush.)
Step 3: As a finishing touch, throw on new red pea coat as running out the door.
Step 4: Look down as walking, an hour after leaving home, and reach in pocket to see if I have a naughty/nice list and elves following me, because I look like SANTA.

This is my life. But at least I always have something to smile about.

Day 17: Hey oh

I am very sad to report that cityish-life has turned me against SNOW. Snow used to fill me with such joy. Exuberance at not having to go to school, the thrill of playing in the yard and then coming into the cozy house.

But those days are gone. Replaced with slush and dirty snow and having to walk in ankle-deep muck to avoid the sidewalks, as walking on them guarantees taking a bath in streetwater thanks to drivers NOT driving for the conditions.

In order to try and get some of my enchantment with snow back, I looked up "snow" on YouTube. I spent awhile watching some college kids slide down hills and then have a massive snowball fight. Listened to the Red Hot Chili Peppers song "Snow (Hey oh)" which doesn't really have anything to do with snow, but put me in a good mood. Watched a few people make snow angels and build snowpeople.

But the video that made my heart melt a little, and made me think I'm not quite ready to write off snow completely, was a tiger eating snow and making snow angels.


I swear I will respond to comments this weekend, I'm just too exhausted tonite and can't focus. But I appreciate them all. :-)

Day 16

Sometimes coming up with new things is hard. Sometimes it gets to be 10:45 and my Tar Heels are losing and I have a headache right behind my eyes and I contemplate standing on one foot while brushing my teeth as a new thing but realize that given my tendency to stand like a flamingo, I'm sure I've already done it.

And I won't cheat only 16 days in. Instead I headed to Wikihow and calculated my age in chocolate.

1. Determine how many times a week you want chocolate, between 1 and 10: 10
2. Multiply that number by 2: 10x2=20
3. Add 5 to that number: 20+5=25
4. Multiply that number by 50: 25x50=1250
5. Add the current year: 1250+2008=3258
6. Subtract 250 if you've had a birthday this year, 251 if you have not: 3258-250=3008
7: Subtract your birth year: 3008-1984=1024
8: The last two digits should be your current age: 24!

Wow. Whoever said chocolate could not be a teaching tool was clearly wrong.

Day 15: The rest is still unwritten

First, I'm going to start responding to comments left in each entry's comments section. So if you ask me something I'll answer it there.

Click the picture to make it bigger, if necessary. Hope you can read my loopy writing.

Day 14: The hunt continues

I have a feeling that a disproportionate amount of the new things I do will be based on something I saw in a movie/tv show, or that I just think everyone else does in the movies but not real life. (But I've only been in "real life" for about a year now, so I may be way off.) Tonite I scoured the want ads and circled relevant jobs with a red pen. (I feel like the red pen is the key here.) The Post had a "mega job*" section on Sunday, so I got even more use out of yesterday's new thing. Of course, I don't know how "mega" it can be since I only found four that applied, but I guess all it takes is one.



*Yes, that's what they called it.

Day 13: Driving slow on Sunday morning, and I never want to leave

For as long as I can remember, Sunday mornings at home revolved around the newspaper. A parent here, a dog there, the contents of our two newspapers strewn across the living room. Joey laughing over "Fox Trot" until he cries. Mom and I dissecting the lifestyles sections. Daddy commenting on political this and laughing at the idiot who did that. I shouldn't be surprised that years of this ritual have left me with an intense obsession and love for the news, in all its forms, but especially in print.

But I'm not at home anymore, and newspapers cost money. But in my head I have an image of what a Sunday morning should be like for a single girl in the city. Chilling in a coffee shop, reading the paper and people watching. Or, cozy in pajamas, reading the Sunday paper in bed, with a steaming cup of tea. So I took my must-be movie-made image out of my head, and into real life today.
It was nice. Different, but nice.

Day 12: The cookie monster would be proud

No long and winded posted tonite. Just the facts.
Before:After:
I made a giant chocolate chip cookie.* And it was awesome.

*Technically, peanut butter cups, chips, and chocolate chunks cookies.

Day 11: Temporary worker to permanently dead

When all is said and done, I think I will be able to write a book on my temping experiences, and all the embarrassing mishaps that have gone along with them. Tentative title: How I was almost crushed to death by a moving file cabinet.

After one of the worst mornings of my life, involving a wrong bus, wrong stop, wrong rain, I finally got to my new temp job two hours later. The people were very nice and understanding, however, and had tons of stuff or me to do, which I prefer. One of them was filing.

We made our way to the filing cabinets, which from my desk I thought were giant speakers because of these big, black circles in the middle. Strike one. But once we got in the room, they looked just like a safe that use a wheel to open. Strike two. They are actually shelves full of files that you could move left and right to get to, thus fitting double or triple the files in a space. So today I filed in a room of moveable filing cabinets. (Picture from Google.)

I had a little too much fun moving them back and forth, delighting in trying to crash them into each other. (Which they don't do, they just move the next one along.) I liked that I could sit on the floor in between them and no one could see me. Now, I wasn't trying to flake on my work. I had worn new shoes, with the slightest heel, and my feet were killing me. I sat down for just a minute to rest the poor dears, when one of the shelves started closing in on me. Very slowly at first, but then rather quickly so I had to hop up and push it back.

My life flashed before my eyes as I could picture the headline, "Poor, jobless UNC grad crushed to death in filing room tragedy." And then all I could see was that scene from one of the Star Wars films where the heroes are almost crushed to death in a trash compactor. And I just had a feeling there was going to be no Han Solo or Chewbacca to save me. Thus today has two new things in one: filing with moveable cabinets, and almost dying because of them.

Day 10: Chef Bonnie (No, really.)

The last time I boiled an egg it took me an hour. It is not uncommon for me to have popcorn for dinner. I think chicken nuggets and honey mustard are the lost food group. And any attempt to cook anything that involves more than opening a package and throwing it in the oven, requires at least two phone calls to my mom and almost always leads to me consuming something burnt, rubbery, or under-cooked.

My sister asked for baking pans for Christmas. My brother asked for a crock pot and convection oven. I asked for a DVD player. I think that pretty much sums it up. (Though I did ask for a blender a few years ago, but that was just so I could make daiquiris.)

But I've decided that there are some "adult" things that I really must attempt to take part in. And one of those is cooking real, balanced meals for myself more often than...never. Tonite I made a healthy, balanced meal, with more than 1.5 food groups represented. And I touched raw chicken, which was indeed as vile as I imagined it to be. Big thanks to Perdue, you may torture your chickens, but at least you aren't prejudiced against single people since you now offer individually packaged, idiot-proof chicken.

Preparing the feast.
The feast. Italian-seasoned chicken, mashed potatoes, and Green Giant (microwaveable) steamed vegetables.

Day 9: Rolling to victory

As I told my friends in an email after Sunday's DRAMATIC Carolina win over Clemson, I have decided that it will not be carbs or jaywalking that kills me, but a Carolina basketball game. (Just hopefully not for 60 or 70 years.)

Luckily, my heart got a rest during Wednesday's game versus UNC-Asheville, which I watched at the Crystal City Sports Pub,with my friends, on the third level, sitting down, eating chicken fingers and fries.
I have previously watched a game here, but it was an exhibition, downstairs, standing up ,crowded around one small TV because the Redskins were playing. So, this really is a new thing.

Watch one of the best parts of the night below:


Though, I have to say, I feel sorry for George. My friends and I were discussing it, and at 7'7", think of what the poor guy must have to deal with. Can't fit in cars, probably has to put two beds together, having to lug 360 pounds up and down the court, always the last to finish, probably never finds jeans that fit in the waste and length. (Which I totally sympathize with.) I just want to hug him, even though I'd only make it to his knees.

Day 8: Wise men say, only fools rush in

Now, for no particular reason, and maybe just by accident, I'm not a big Elvis fan. I guess I was never really exposed to his music and just don't seek it out. But as a note on my History Channel "On this Day" calendar informed me it was his birthday, I thought I should do something new in honor of that. So I bought "Suspicious Minds" and "Can't Help Falling in Love" on iTunes, and then headed over to Elvis.com to do some exploring in honor of the King's day of birth.

I read his biography, some of his quotes, watched a video on the Graceland holiday decorations, and read the informative FAQ section. I watched a virtual tour of a few rooms in Graceland, including a living room with a 15-foot couch! (And Daddy thought keeping up with the pillows on our old furniture was hard.)

Finally, I left him a birthday message on the virtual wall. I may not be a huge fan, but I can certainly appreciate the heartfelt messages left by people of all ages from all over the world.

"I ain't no saint, but I've tried never to do anything that would hurt my family or offend God...I figure all any kid needs is hope and the feeling he or she belongs. If I could do or say anything that would give some kid that feeling, I would believe I had contributed something to the world."
-Elvis Presley

Day 7: The price is wrong, Bob.

I'm not a huge "The Price is Right" fan. I'm not good at it. I hate cooking and grocery shopping so I fail at those pricing games. I have no idea how much a new car cost nowadays, nor am I too familiar with the asking price for an armoire. If it involved the prices of take-out meals or clothes from H&M, I could do it.

Nevertheless, today I watched part of "The Price is Right" with Drew Carey as the new host. I know he's been hosting for a few months now, but I never got around to watching it. He does ok, I suppose. He didn't really seem that into it, though. Kind of like he was above Plinko. And nobody is above Plinko.
I think I'll stick with my re-runs of "Gilmore Girls" when I'm home in the morning, but it's good to get outside my comfort zone every now and then.

Day 6: A Spoonful of Sugar

There are certain things in life I have just grown to accept that I will never be able to do. For instance, roll my tongue into a tube. Twirl a basketball on my finger. Understand the stock market. Not give a mean look to anyone I see wearing a Duke hat or shirt. Hang a spoon off my nose. Until tonite, when I balanced a spoon on my nose - three times!
I think if nothing else, this project, and the ridiculous pictures that result from it, will make me less easily embarrassed.

Day 5: I lost my poor meetball, when somebody sneezed

I used to think that the meatball sub from Subway was the best thing to happen to the sandwich since honey mustard. But since eating the meatball aurora sandwich from Cosi, I've learned how foolish that was. Because the meatball aurora could kick the meatball sub's butt any day of the week. And do so with fresh basil, rich provolone, and "a hint of alfredo sauce."

I've had lunch at Cosi before, but today I did so by myself, in a cushy seat by the window, after which I sat and wrote on Francisco, my new computer, and people-watched.(Not my actual Cosi, taken from the web site.)

I also saw my first ever ad on a bus for Anderson Cooper 360. It was pretty awesome. But I was too shy to take a picture, so here is my interpretation:

Day 4: What is art?

When it comes to art, I like what I like and I don't like what I don't like. I can never remember period and movement names, and who goes where. I can tell the difference between Van Gogh and Monet, but not usually Michaelangelo or Raphael. I like art that makes me think, that reminds me of something else, or just evokes something in me I wasn't expecting. And if they're pretty. :-)

There are a few paintings that I can pinpoint as the first pieces of art I ever took an interest in, circa fifth/sixth grade. One of which is Hopper's "Nighthawks," which I remember in a literature book in sixth grade:
Today I saw this painting, as well as others, at the National Gallery of Art in a Hopper exhibition. I also saw an exhibition of J.M.W. Turner's work, a favorite of mine since viewing this painting, "The Fighting Temeraire tugged to her Last Berth to be broken up," at the National Gallery in London:
(This was not on view at our gallery.)

Hopper's had vibrant colors depicting very American scenes. Turner's were detailed and majestic, with some amazing landscapes. Examples of Turner's work: Time Magazine Slideshow. Examples of Hopper's work: Museum Syndicate's Gallery.

Day 3: Can I add this to my resume under "newspaper experience"?

As any good (former) news editorial journalism student knows, newspaper readership has been on the decline for the past ten years or so. People prefer to get their news from the internet or cable, or as it sometimes seems if you watch "Jaywalking" on the "The Tonight Show," get no news at all. I think no topic was discussed more during my journalism school tenure than how we would fare in a newspaperless society. (Always a cheery discussion in a group of future print journalists.)

So in light of that bleak future, I grabbed a piece of newspaper while it's still around, and made a newspaper hat. I thought they always looked kind of cool in movies, and thanks to Wikihow, made my own.

In progress
Ta da!
Modeling it on Paddington. Looks like he could live in it instead of wear it.

Slight adjustment when trying it on Audrey, my build-a-bear. I think she looks like a Pope.

Day 2: Cheesesteaks, cheeseburgers, cheesegoodness

It's hard to want to do anything, new or not, when I have a mountain of clothes and gifts to pack to go back to D.C. tonite, or when the wind outside is so fierce it forces your brother's truck into the next lane while he's driving. (I'm not so sure I believe that, I think he was just too busy singing the wrong words to a CCR song.) Nevertheless, today I went to the Andy's in Princeton for lunch.

I try to go to Andy's at least once when I'm home, usually with Joey, but I've never been to the one in Princeton. It was smaller than the others in town, and not as coolly decorated, but the food's the same and that's all that matters. I love going to a restaurant that got its start in Goldsboro, but has now spread all over Eastern North Carolina.

And, our waitress just happened to be named Bonnie. I never meet people in my age range with my name, so it was nice.

Day 1: Carolina Girls Welcome 2008

Welcome 2008, welcome 24, welcome day one of my mission to do one new thing each day for the rest of the year. To start it off, I ushered in a much-needed new year with cheap champagne, Anderson Cooper, and a new dress. More importantly, I spent New Year's in Chapel Hill/Durham with three of my best friends. Since entering the "real world," spending time together as a group is a too rare occurrence. But that doesn't matter when there are stories to be told and multiple group pictures to be attempted.
Any year that starts with laughing until you cry, surely will be a good one.
Happy New Year!