29+

Driving back and forth between work, I often listen to NPR.  I almost always learn something new.  It's like opting for a salad instead of a double pounder; sure, I could jam out in the morning, but I prefer the refreshing taste of interesting news.

Tonight, after a longer-than-necessary stop at the grocery store, I heard about Cassie Boorn (cassieboorn.com) (a 22 year old! gasp!) who collected letters written to 20-something selves.  You can read her letter here or read about the project here.  I loved the idea of it, even though I have yet to escape my twenties.  One of my friends calls them the "twenty-stupids" and I think he's very accurate.

Clearly, this is my favorite from Maggie Mason at Mighty Girl:
"Thank you for working so hard to put yourself through school. Thank you for eating potato chips for breakfast while you still can. Thank you for wearing the tight dress. And shut up — your ass looks amazing." 

Nearly six months away from trading up to the next decade, there are things I wish I knew earlier: the taurus was a fine car, rum was never my friend and maybe I should have taken a marketing class or twelve.  But, like Cassie writes - if I had been able to avoid any or all of these mistakes (dude, the credit card debt alone!) then I wouldn't be me now.

And I like me.  Spoiler alert: I like the person I am becoming.  I think once I get to 30 (or 35 or 95) I might still write the letter.  I'm hoping that I make it to 35, liking myself as much as I do now.  All the while retaining the lessons learned (please!).

a weekend at home (sunday travel v4)

After several weekends "away," I thought it was time for an at-home weekend.  There's nothing like staying in after running around like a chicken.

Don't worry though folks -- next week will be lovely.  It's the Fourth of July, after all!

wanted: 3/2 dream house (err, starter home)

As if there wasn't enough going on - what with Mr. Bar Bri droning during waking hours - K. started looking at houses.

Holy Squash!  The man who thought he wanted to rent for the REST OF HIS LIFE is sending me MLS listings?  Shut the front door!  It's super exciting and I got swept up into it and he got swept into it and suddenly we were looking at square footage and property taxes and starting to look for a mortgage broker.

Qualifying for a home, all on my own, wasn't something I expected.  Dude.  Seriously, me?  Are you sure?  And that's when it became just a little too much: a little too real.

So the house hunt?  It's on pause.  I can only do one major life thing at a time, and until September when results come out, it's all about the Bar Exam.  And all about the fabulous things happening in my career.  (Hopefully, soon I'll be able to share one of them).

Am I still browsing the MLS listings?  Yes. 
Are we signing another year-long lease?  No. 
Am I nervous as hell?  Definitely. 
Is this exciting?  Absolutely. 

Hours?

Hahahhahhahaaaaaa.
I totally meant days -- 36 days till the Bar Exam.

WOW.  Talk about wishful thinking.

Sunday Travel 3

I hate to say it... but I almost don't need imaginary travel this weekend.  It was an incredibly pleasant two-day break here in the bend. And while I feel like I need gills in order to breathe in the humidity, I haven't done a lick of work.  And it's been utterly fantastic.

But...  I'm committed to my weekend trips.  I hear New York and Boston calling my name, but I think instead we'll head over to Amelia Island.  It's been a while since I've seen the Atlantic, and there are some fabulous B&Bs I'd like to try out.  Like this one, or maybe this one, or perhaps...  this one.  Yup, it will be lovely and lush.

I'm thinking maybe a kayak trip around the old fort, some beach time, some time without a care in the world...  Well, except to make our reservation at Salt over at the Ritz Carlton.  And the french place - the one with duck seven ways?  Who even know you could do duck seven different ways.

I think we need a weekend of nothing but gorgeous linens and sunshine.  It's 36 hours till the Bar...  I cannot wait.

Sunday Travel 2

After spending a day at the beach yesterday, I think this week's plan must center on spending some more time on the coast.  So, let's plan a weekend away at the Coombs House Inn, yes?  I think we'll take the Biltmore suite -- so we can take George too.  (Dude, the dog loves the beach).


It's summer, so we'll skip the oysters at Boss Oyster, but still take advantage of the still-safe seafood.  Instead... I'm thinking the Owl Cafe.  You know, I've never been.


And then there's the beach.  Driving over to St. George Island, we'll rent two kayaks and paddle around for a while.  Once K. gets tired, we'll put up our umbrella, dig in the sand and fall asleep with the soft sound of the gulf.


I'd like to finally make it Petunia's this time -- and find something unique for George.  I am craving fried shrimp, more sun and smell of sunscreen.  And we only have a few weekends left before the oil comes.  Lovely.

BEACH!

So, I'm kidnapping K. and we're headed to the beach.

Y'know, before the oil gets here.  Thanks again, BP for ruining my summer...  for the next ten years.

I've made pressed Cuban sandwiches, the beer and lemonade is packed and I have a perfect beach book: Remembering Blue, by Connie May Fowler.  I first read it the summer of 2004...  and promptly loaned it out to all of my friends.  It's warped from being read on the beach, and the lake, and the boat.  And it's perfect for today.  I hadn't picked it up in a while, but the couple in the book -- one of their first dates was walking around Lake Ella.  Lo and behold, so was mine.

Even though K. is frustrated by the campaign and anxious about the impending Bar Exam, we need a day at the beach.  He needs the water, I need the sun.  We need a day off.  We need a day together.  Hope you have a lovely Saturday too!

On Mr. Greene

Dear South Carolina: WTF.

I mean, seriously.  I could yell and shake my fist at the voters, but really...  Honestly...  Where was the leadership?  Folks who work at 1529 Hampton (whoa, I almost wrote Blanding), where were you?  Obviously asleep in the ergonomic and expertly arranged cubicles.  WAKE UP! 

Screening candidates for things like felony convictions isn't exclusive or rude.  It's good practice, heck, one might even say it's a best practice.  Shhhh, I won't tell.  Run background checks.  It's easy, fast and will save us being the punchline on The Daily Show and leave it for the folks who really need the boost -- the SC GOP.

And also, Mr. Greene: who are you kidding?  This isn't high school.  Do you really feel you could represent the people of South Carolina?  You're not running for Prom King, dude.  You can't string syllables together to make words to make coherent sentences.  Stop the charade now.

Sunday Travel

For the past several years...  I've been fortunate enough to take vacations.  Short, weekend jaunts that sort of help alleviate the drudgery of living in the smallest village in America.  During the summers I think it gets worse because all the students are gone so there's no one to hide behind...  Seriously, you can't blend in.  One trip to the local Publix is more like a fashion show/job interview.

So.  I realize I feel down in the dumps -- not only are we not going anywhere, I don't get to plan anything.  Well, color that little problem fixed.  I can plan just about anything -- especially when I don't need to worry about a budget or vacation time request paperwork.

Chrissy's Imagination Trip #1:
Disney World 
(and no, I'm not even the least bit embarrassed)
(but please return next week when my focus will not be quite so obvious)

Three-Day Weekend...  we'll leave Friday after work and drive down to Orlando.  I prefer to stay on property, so we'll check in to Disney's Yacht Club Resort.  Room service for dinner, obvs...  I've never been to Universal, so I think that's got to be it for Saturday.  A full-on play day.  And Sunday, we'll go to Magic Kingdom because - well, because.  Perhaps dinner at the French place on Sunday night at Epcot, and then Monday we'll slowly make our way back Tallahassee.

Next week?  I'm thinking beach.

How many days?

K., don't read this.  I appreciate that you have me on your feed -- but really, this isn't to guilt you in any way.  So.  Stop.  Reading.  I am going to be super whiny.

HOLY FRENCH TOAST!  It's fifty days until the Bar Exam and I cannot wait.  I simply cannot wait.  So blah, blah, blah I 'm so supportive and I love making snacks and doing all the chores.

Except that I don't.  I don't really like making snacks and doing all the chores.  And I especially don't like the guy who's droning on and on about Florida law.  I knew I could get through a summer.  Well, I thought I could -- but really, let's be honest... this is getting through a year.  I hate (with full fury) that I don't get to leave Tallahassee this summer.  I hate it.

I hate that I don't have cable.  I hate that my husband is so worn out from studying and working that he doesn't have a whole lot of energy left over for me.  I hate that I'm some kind empath for his stress level and that I'm starting to have nightmares about taking the Bar.  I dropped out of law school, gosh darnit.

And I hate that I hate it.  I hate that I've lived through three weeks of it and I already feel like jumping ship.  Does he really need to be a lawyer, I find myself asking...

Yes, yes, and yes.  And I know this is just a moment of weakness.  And boredom.  Because of the cable.  And I know that tomorrow I'll be right as rain.  Or, let's be honest, as right as I'm ever going to be.