31 Before 31....or How Failure Lead to Success

Oops.

I had all of these ambitious goals for things I was going to do when my boyfriend moved overseas. Like...make a quilt, and a really dense reading list, and write a novel, and get up every morning at 6am to run 10 miles, and cook everything from scratch, and find a cure for cancer, and finally get around to achieving that nagging chore of world peace.

Well, I did make a quilt. Behold:

That was definitely thanks to my buddy Jenn. She is amazing and can make anything and walked me through this quilt process step-by-step, almost every Sunday between October and March. I will do an entire post at some point to show you how this magical quilt came to be. 

I was also going to write a novel, and while that didn't happen, I did sketch out some pretty great ideas and I can feel some good stuff marinating. And I wrote Chapter One. That's always a good place to start, no?

But that whole 31 Before 31 list...oof, I utterly fell down on that. To refresh your memory, here was the original list:

1. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce

2. Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

3. The Golden Notebook, Doris Lessing 

4. Lolita, Nabokov

5. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig

6. For Whom The Bell Tolls, Hemingway

7. The Rules of Attraction, Brett Easton Ellis

8. Breath, Eyes, Memory, Edwidge Dandicat

9. Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann

10. Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe

11. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, Dee Brown

12. Guns, Germs, and Steel, Jared Diamond 

13. The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan

14. Cities of Salt, Abdul Rahman Munif

15. Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

16. The Satanic Verses, Salmon Rushdie

17. Native Son, Richard Wright

18. The Savage Detectives, Bolano

19. Jesus' Son, Denis Hale Johnson

20. Notebook, Agota Christof (NOTE - not "The Notebook" by Nicholas Sparks. Come on.)

21. White Noise, Don DeLillo

22. Anna Karenina, Tolstoy

23. Fear of Flying, Erica Jong

24. The 19th Wife, David Evershoff

25. As I Lay Dying, Faulkner

26. The Prophet, Khalil Gibran

27. A Room of One's Own, Virginia Woolf

28. Galapagos, Kurt Vonnegut

You'll notice it halts at 28. I kept meaning to add three more to the list, but the fact is, as I got closer to my deadline (my 31st birthday), it became more and more daunting to even THINK about more books. Those three empty slots haunt my dreams.

Here's what I actually read:

1. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce- skimmed, hated it

2. Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

3. The Golden Notebook, Doris Lessing - started, never finished

5. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig - - started, never finished

7. The Rules of Attraction, Brett Easton Ellis

8. Breath, Eyes, Memory, Edwidge Dandicat

9. Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann

12. Guns, Germs, and Steel, Jared Diamond - skimmed, actually really liked it, but nearly fell asleep during the thirty-some odd pages explaining carbon dating in detail

13. The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan

Wow...so...nine. Out of 31. 

I do still have ambitions to read the rest of the books on this list, but the pile of books beside my bed has grown exponentially. I've found that books seem to come organically into my life - a flirty affair with a cover in the library, a gift from a friend, a loaner from someone who talks excessively about "this book that you HAVE to read!!"....books find their way into your life, and they always seem to do so in such a seamless and perfect way that it felt almost sacrilegious to force-feed a reading list. A lot of these books I simply never got to, not because I haven't been reading, but on the contrary - because I've been reading voraciously as books have been sauntering into my life and pulling my attentions away from the homework I've assigned myself.

I've read some pretty fantastic books in the interim. And not only will I hand over these dreamy suggestions, but I'll tell you how they came into my life as well....

I. Love. Ann. Patchett. I think she is one of the most acutely beautiful writers I've ever read, and  although it's a total cliche, she has the ability to get you to accept human behaviors you might normally judge, and get too drawn into worlds where a lesser writer might leave you with  enough of a sense of distance that you're not too involved. Ann gets you involved. I didn't even know she'd written a new book until I happened to be in Target picking up sun screen and various items for our trip to Mexico, saw this, and read this thing cover to cover in the first 24 hours of the trip.

This was a Book Club pick, and a hilariously educating one at that. I find myself frequently mentioning parts of this book, like "Oh, speaking of pottery, DID YOU KNOW THAT ONEIDA  WAS ACTUALLY A POLYAMOUROUS COMMUNE IN UPSTATE NEW YORK IN VICTORIAN TIMES?!?!" I have tried to get multiple other people in my life, outside of Book Club, to read this book solely so I have more people to discuss it with.

After hearing about it so many times, and possessing a vague understanding of He-La cells, I heard an in-depth discussion on my favorite podcast - Stuff Mom Never Told You - while out on a run one day, and decided I needed to read it IMMEDIATELY. Thank God for the Kindle app on my iPad, and thank God for Enoch Pratt having ebooks that you can download instantly for free. 

A beautiful recommendation from one of my very best friends, Stupid, who shares my taste in contemporary literature and always has great suggestions. This dark novel explores the stigma and social pariah of AIDS and homosexuality in the 1980's told through the voice of 14-year-old June as she makes sense of the recent death of her beloved uncle. 

Quite possibly my favorite in this list - I read about it in a magazine, and  read it in  its entirety in one day. (Granted - I was in Mexico on vacation, so I had the time to spend reading entire novels in a single day.) Based on Ray Bradbury's 1954 short story, "All Summer In a Day," the novel is told through the voice of an adolescent girl. The crux can be summed up in this sentence from an Amazon review: "[t]he world is ending not with a bang so much as a long, drawn-out whimper." Essentially, one day, the Earth's rotation just suddenly starts to slow down. An hour at first, here and there, and then suddenly whole days of direct sunlight and complete darkness. Crops die, people get radiation poisoning, and the world is divided between "Clock Timers," who try to go on with life as normally as possible on a 24 clock; and "Real Timers," who revert to using the sunlight as a time keeper and thus will sleep for days at a time, be awake for days at a time, and exist in their own realm. All, of course, relayed to us through 11-year-old Julia, who is dealing with her parents' fighting, her first crush, and worrying about whether or not there will still be soccer practice.

I couldn't sleep one night, and bought this on Amazon Kindle (Thanks, The Gentleman!) and devoured it in a matter of days. I think I initially read about it in Elle magazine, but it's hilarious and dark and wickedly smart.

So, I utterly failed at my "31 Before 31" list, but I see success in that every book that magically comes into my life and turns out to be so utterly memorable is nothing short of a gift. And I do intend to read the rest of the books on my list, but I'm not so pressed for "getting them done" in a finite period of time. I'll leave that kind of stringency to workout regimens and excessive itinerary planning for vacations.

I do have a stack of books next to my bed that I've recently acquired through various means (gifts, library, random fits of whimsy) that I intend to work through this summer. But I'm sure new ones will be added, and some shifted around, and that's the nature of reading as a hobby - love and desire have to be the driving forces, not a timeline.

Or maybe that's just what terrible procrastinators say.

31 Before 31 Update

I realized the other day that I am over six months into my "31 Before 31" list (31 books I feel I ought to have read by the time I'm 31), and have so far completed four of the books on the list. 

To be fair, I've started three others.

Here's a recap of my list so far. I'm still three books shy of the complete list, but at this point, I'm looking at having to amend the list to be "32 before 32."

1. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce

2. Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

3. The Grass is Singing, Doris Lessing - changed to The Golden Notebook, started

4. Lolita, Nabokov

5. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig - started

6. For Whom The Bell Tolls, Hemingway

7. The Rules of Attraction, Brett Easton Ellis

8. Breath, Eyes, Memory, Edwidge Dandicat

9. Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann

10. Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe

11. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, Dee Brown

12. Guns, Germs, and Steel, Jared Diamond - started

13. The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan

14. Cities of Salt, Abdul Rahman Munif

15. Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

16. The Satanic Verses, Salmon Rushdie

17. Native Son, Richard Wright

18. The Savage Detectives, Bolano

19. Jesus' Son, Denis Hale Johnson

20. Notebook, Agota Christof (NOTE - not "The Notebook" by Nicholas Sparks. Come on.)

21. White Noise, Don DeLillo

22. Anna Karenina, Tolstoy

23. Fear of Flying, Erica Jong

24. The 19th Wife, David Evershoff

25. As I Lay Dying, Faulkner

26. The Prophet, Khalil Gibran

27. A Room of One's Own, Virginia Woolf

28. Galapagos, Kurt Vonnegut

Here are my takeaways thus far:

"Let the Great World Spin," Colum McCann

An incredible book. Just incredible. At first, I wasn't sure where it was headed, but that's part of the point. The fictional story brings in narratives from a handful of different characters, all living in New York City in 1974 during the real-life event wherein French acrobat Phillippe Petit walked a tightrope between the World Trade Center buildings. The act seems to be a hinge point for all of these other stories to intersect, and the narratives see characters through Harlem prostitution rings, Vietnam, coke-fueled nightclubs, and the art world of the Village in the 70's.

"The Rules of Attraction," Bret Easton Ellis

I read somewhere that Ellis is the cockiest mofo to grace contemporary literature, and that he can essentially spit on a piece of paper and critics will bend over backwards to exclaim that it's the best thing since "Catcher in the Rye." 

The fact is, after reading this book, I'd say that if Ellis is cocky, he's earned the right to be. The book is an incredibly depressing look into the lives of 1980's college kids at a liberal arts New England college with nothing to do but spend down their trust funds, sleep with each other, drink every day, and perhaps go to class from time to time. I came to this book not wanting to like it and wanting furiously to see Ellis's pretension in every page, but I came away grudgingly having to admit that I liked the characters, liked the story, and thought that Ellis did a damn fine job of channeling ennui so passionately. It's not an easy thing to do, and he's somehow managed to do it. While I won't say that he's Salinger, he has his own voice and reading this made me want to read his other work. And possibly stream the 2002 James Van Der Beek film made from this book. 

"Guns, Germs, and Steel," Jared Diamond

I'm picking away at this one. It's dense, for sure, but ridiculously interesting and documents the reasons why some world civilizations became more advanced (with agriculture, medicine, buildings, etc.) and why some stalled out (like Australian aborigines). I borrowed it from a friend who condoned skimming some pages, and skipping others altogether, but with the endorsement that the overall book itself is fascinating. She was completely right - Diamond tends to go on highly scientific rants (I couldn't really give two shits about how accurate radio carbon dating is - whether you're talking about 39,000 years ago or 50,000 years ago, it doesn't register a difference in my mind and while I'm sure this inaccuracy would be a grievous error in the archaeology world, it matters little to none in mine), but on the whole his arguments are interesting, profound, and even common sensical at times. This is a book that will take me awhile to get through, and so tends to be one I'll pick up here and there while reading through some of the others on the list. "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" is the same way - it's dense at times, but overall a very satisfactory read yet not one that pulls me in the way some narratives can. Books like these tend to be snacks or appetizers for me. Things I pick at when I only have ten or fifteen minutes here and there, and not something I can sit and read for hours at a time.

I've also been privy to some pretty fantastic fiction lately that's not on the "31 before 31" list but that I've read for Book Club or because a friend told me I simply must read it.

"The Last Letter from your Lover," JoJo Moyes

I can't remember the last time I read a book in a weekend. But this one was it. It was compelling, beautiful, and I absolutely couldn't put it down. It begins with the protagonist, a total Betty Draper named Jennifer Stirling, waking up in London from a severe head injury after a car accident. She has a handsome husband who owns a company that manufactures asbestos; the hot new building material in the 1960's; tons of money, and what appears to be the perfect life. But as she tries to adjust from severe memory loss and get back into her glamorous, wealthy life she discovers that she was having an affair, and the book follows her attempts to piece together love letters and clues to figure out who her lover was - and if he died in the automobile accident that caused her injury. It's the perfect rainy weekend novel, and beautifully written. 

"Gone Girl," Gillian Flynn

Oh wait, you haven't read "Gone Girl" yet? Stop reading this blog, right now. Go get it. Read it. It'll take you about a day. Come back and let's talk about how amazing this book is, and how creeped out we are by the whole thing.

On that note, I'm gonna go finish my beer and read some more of "Guns, Germs, and Steel."

Because We're Only In Jordan Until the 27th....

...have to have New Years plans!

We get back from Jordan on December 27th, have two days at home (which will probably be spent sleeping off some epic jet lag), and promptly leave at 8am on the 30th to head to NYC for the weekend to stay with New Kid, go back to the best steakhouse I've ever experienced, and meet up with The Gentleman's friends who are flying in from Cali for the weekend.

Naturally, because it's New Years, in New York, we made reservations. Tickets are booked for Ars Nova's New Years' Eve Spectacular. I am beyond psyched.

5th annual Book Club Christmas party tonight. Booze, potluck, White Elephant exchange that always turns more than a little bit competitive, and a discussion of "Matched." Why is Young Adult literature so awesome these days?

Other things I've read recently that I highly recommend (and all passed on to me courtesy of Stupid, who has great taste in literature):

"The Hand that First Held Mine"

"The Imperfectionists"

"Sarah's Key"

One week from now, we'll be on a plane to Istanbul. Where did December go?

I Was Told There Would Be Nudity....

Um, of course my friends and I went to see "Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part I". We've seen all of them.

We picked a random Tuesday night, which was perfect, because the sparse audience was entirely comprised of women far too old to be excited about a 'tween movie. Women drinking copiously. (Because we only frequent movie theaters that serve alcohol. Duh.)

It meant that our raucous laughter and running commentary wasn't ssssshhhhhh'd by legions of teen Twihards desperate for their first glimpse of a sexual act between the newly-married Bella and Edward. (What good kids they are - NO PREMARITAL SEX HERE!) It meant that we could snort with laughter every time the awkward-looking Jasper graced the scene. Seriously - casting fail. I truly believe that they originally cast him on a whim, realized far too late into it that he spends every scene looking as though someone inserted a broomstick up into his posterior, and then realized they were stuck with him for the entirety of the series, because while it seems you can swap out lesser actors at whim, the primary player should probably remain the same in a movie series. Harry Potter's Dumbledore notwithstanding, obvs. (Spell check just told me that I misspelled "Dumbledor." Congrats J.K. Rowling - your made-up names have infiltrated Microsoft spell check. You truly do own a good chunk of the world.)

The best part was, not only did we have a good, rowdy group of girls, but we brought along our friend, Joel, who had not seen any of the movies nor, to my knowledge, read the books. To come into the series at the fourth movie was brave of him, but he was helped along by the delicious Landmark rendition of a Dark 'n Stormy. And, of course, our witty commentary, which always includes a running debate on just how much Taylor Lautner resembles an alpaca. (Fact.)

Anyhoodle, it's nice to know that although my friends are all embarking on new milestones in their lives as we face the #dirtythirty, we can still rustle up some fun on a Tuesday night at the movies. But only theaters that serve alcohol. And only at movies aimed at the 13-21 demographic. Really, they're movies made for us.

The Cat Might Lose Another Life....

See, Mom?

See how diligent I am being in my posts?!

My mother (the queen of noticing unmade beds, finding crusts of sandwiches hidden under plate rims, and gazing steely-eyed through flimsy statements like, "Of course I am not going to ride around in that Mustang with that boy with the long hair without your explicit permission!") is one of my biggest fans. I get friendly little reminders that she's bored of the content of my blog when I don't update enough. And I listen to her. Because the fans shall have what they want! And, you know, she's my mom. Trump card.

I digress.

So, last night was typical Book Club. 7 pitchers of sangrias, probably thirty plates of tapas, three different desserts. Over the years, we have graduated from the $5 wine tasting to spectacular dinners where we always have to leave exorbitant tips because we (a) are loud, (b) drink so fast the wait staff can't keep up, and (c) due to said drinking, have a tendency to become loud about inappropriate topics.

Yes, we discussed the book last night.

I even made a list of questions prior.

Book Club has SOME structure; a free-for-all it is not.

I digress.

Day Three of training, which meant I was up at 5:45am to go to a weights class at my gym taught by a fabulous fellow writer/bartender/fitness enthusiast. This was especially rough given the aforementioned Book Club Dinner which lasted until about 10pm and throughout which wine flowed freely. But I made it through. My body will most likely revolt tomorrow when I go to strap on Ye Olde Running Shoes and discover I have lost the ability to run. Or, you know, move.

In other news, the cat and I are going to have words. I don't understand his insistence on puking. For years, we coexisted peacefully on this subject with a simple understanding: he puked only on hardwood floors, and only where I could easily locate said puke for ready cleaning. Now, all of the sudden, it seems he wants to puke in secret locations, i.e., wherever my poor roommate Jaunt wishes to set her foot.

This has caused her to become very upset when she's already running late for work and has to wash cat puke off of her foot.

This is not bearing well on her already tentative relationship with the cat, who thinks he is incredibly cute and can do disgusting things willy-nilly and expect no repercussions. He and I have had harsh words before regarding his complete inability to think about others. He will usually behave for a day or two, and then, WHAM, puddle of puke on the table by the front door, or WHAM, hairball on the mail.

I have tried to make excuses for the cat. It's spring, he is shedding his winter coat, this causes him to puke more. He dislikes the new food I bought. He is having mental distress due to the federal deficit. I am running out of explanations.

Soon, I'll have to tell him: Jaunt grew up on a farm where animals were not pets; they were working, contributing members of a whole. If he doesn't get his act together, there will be consequences.

That sounds like Jaunt is going to sell and/or consume the cat. I know she would do neither. There is, however, a risk that she might sell and/or consume me, and I am not risking this for the damn cat.

Straighten up and fly right, cat, or we're both going to suffer the consequences. Maybe no more tuna juice for you, hmmm? Or butt slaps. (Show me a cat who doesn't live for a good slap on the butt, and I'll show you a dead one. Seriously. They love it.)

In other news, the big debate this week is whether to go to AVAM's Flicks on the Hill tomorrow night or to see Harry Potter. I am excruciatingly divided. I love FOTH, and it's the closest to camping I'm gonna get this summer. But I'm also jonesing to see the final HP. I've read all the books, seen every movie, and must admit that I am looking forward to this with not a slight bit of trepidation only because when those final credits roll...that's it. Then there's nothing to look forward to until Twilight craps out another glittery sensation or Hunger Games finally releases a trailer. (And both, believe me, will be high points for me and my affinity for young-adult-literature-turned-film-sensation.)

In other news, there's a call out for a short story contest for the Boston Review. I'm tempted. We shall see. Earlier attempts at stunted fiction (as I began to see the short story genre) were not so successful. Then again, a contest creates accountability and a deadline. We shall see.

In other news, 35 days until vacation. I totally purchased the Living Social deal ($27 for a limo ride to BWI from the city - WHAT A STEAL) and so have already raised the bar on the expectations for said vacation. After all, if you can't party with class...I don't know where I was headed with that turn of phrase, but WHATEVER, A LIMO IS SUPER CLASSY. And it sure beats bargaining with friends for a ride to the airport. Oh, the promises I've made in exchange for such...

Daniel Craig In Chaps

So, I did it. I went to see Cowboys & Aliens. And while I framed it primarily as a gracious act performed for the boyfriend (retribution for which I shall reserve until such a point in time I find something truly and deliciously girly), truth be told I was a little bit curious.

Ok. A lot curious.

Ok, I actually really wanted to see it.

I secretly have a penchant for action, shoot-em-up films, but only in movie theaters. I have a fatally short attention span for these kinds of movies on a standard television, but I get readily sucked into them if seen as they're meant to be seen: on the big screen. Special effects, loud noises, things exploding...sign me up. I normally draw the line at gratuitous violence (and have been known to cover my face in the presence of such), but there's something about action films that somehow makes it so over-the-top ridiculous, I can go with it.

Cowboys & Aliens was exactly what I'd expected: completely camp dialogue, horribly predictable plot line, ridiculously archetypal characters, amazing special effects, and some very nice views of Daniel Craig in chaps. It was entertaining, to say the least, though I hesitate to say engaging.

Tomorrow night is Book Club, where we will be discussing Sweet Valley Confidential and heading to Catalano's after dinner and drinks to watch some of the series that came out in the late 1990's. Coupled with last night's action movie viewing, I feel that I may have to do something vastly intellectual quite soon.

Then again, it's also Shark Week....hosted by Andy Samberg....I may just retire any lofty ambitions to be deep and meaningful until the fall.

Gimme Some Cash Out

In preparation for the Vegas trip, the group has amassed key survival materials/strategies.

1. Leg's sister went to Costco and purchased a case of 5-Hour Energy, and a case of some fizzy powder packets containing tiger blood and the sum caffeine of forty seven cups of coffee per packet that is meant to be added to a glass of water. In sum total, we now have over 270 Hours of Energy to be doled out amongst the pack. I believe this will be enough, given that we will be in Las Vegas for 65 hours.

2. Fake eyelashes. I can't underscore the vast difference a pair of falsies makes in pictures. If done right, (that is, cut those spiders in half and only apply on the OUTSIDE of your upper lash) it's possible to bypass anything that smacks of cross-dressing and be tasteful and subtle boosts to what nature already blessed you with. I once had a roommate that swore that a modest set of chicken cutlets (I think you know what I mean by that) had the same effect.

3. En masse, we have invested many hours of crucially analyzing outfit choice. Our methods of rating ranged from "Kim Kardashian" to "Dirty Pirate Hooker" to "Little House on the Prairie." As you can imagine, any outfit that shied away from these categories was entered into the final round before cuts were made based on similarity to someone else's outfit, packability, and versatility. No one can say we aren't practical. And, we can all sleep soundly knowing we avoided the embarrassing moment of running into a Lady of the Night wearing the same outfit; by the same token, no one will confuse us for a Half Pint.

4. Cameras, and strict rules upon how to use them. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas; unless it's Facebook-worthy. And even then, it must go through strict Channels of Approval before posting, and even then, there must be explicit permission granted before anyone goes tagging willy-nilly. This isn't a free-for-all, and several of my friends have sneaky, paparazzi-tendencies to take questionable photos of people doing questionable things. Any by "several of my friends," I primarily mean "me."

5. I promised my parents today that I would kindly only post certain aspects of the trip on my blog. This kind of outright, anti-First Amendment, gross censorship is completely and utterly OK by me and I fully support this. If I wouldn't tell my parents, it sure as hell doesn't belong here.

6. That having been said, I'm still disappointed in the fast "No Hookers" rule. I'm still arguing my point that no one needs to engage in anything other than research. I just want to hear some stories! And who would have better stories than a Vegas hooker? Even a retired one! Ooooh- a retired one would be even better. I would be curious to know how she spends her days. Yoga? Transcendental meditation? Teaching those pole-dancing classes that are so hot in every fitness center in the US right now? Cooking? I MUST KNOW.

And so, Glitteratis, tomorrow Book Club takes its show on the road and migrates, en masse, out to Vegas. 270 hours of energy, and fake eyelashes batting away....and nary a petticoat or hot pant in sight. We are pure class.

Mostly.

One Week to Vegas

Since 2007, Book Club has been the axis around which my social world has spun.

No, really.

The idea was conceived when I met Catalano. She and I were bridesmaids in Mrs. Spaz's wedding, and met shortly after I'd moved to the city from Florida. I knew very few people outside of a couple of college friends. Catalano had moved back to Maryland from Los Angeles a few months prior and was still single at the time. Shortly after I met her, she began dating her now-fiance.

I'd had a small book club in Tampa that met every few weeks for wine and gelato at an Italian cafe near my house. Catalano was keen on the idea to start our own book club in Baltimore, and volunteered a couple of her college friends and roommates. We started out as a core group of about seven girls. Five of those girls are still active book club members, nearly four years later.

Book Club began as a Tuesday-night affair, every two weeks. But, as the wine and gossip began to flow more heavily, Tuesday nights spilled into Thursday nights, Friday nights, Saturday nights. A couple of girls dropped out and, seeking new members, we placed a cheeky ad on Craigslist. Jaunt, who had recently moved to Baltimore from Pennsylvania, found said ad. She agreed to meet us, and we came up with an exit strategy should she turn out to be creepy. After all, who the hell answers an ad for a boozy Book Club on Craigslist? We were certain Jaunt would turn out to be a strapping bachelor in his mid-5o's with a delightful comb-over and a pocketful of double-entendres and invitations to his "beach house."

"If s/he's creepy," we agreed, "Book Club ends in thirty minutes, we all ditch him/her, and join up at the bar down the street."

Instead, we got Jaunt. Who is now, happily, my new roommate.

We picked up other girls as well. Some stalked Book Club through my blog, some came on as referrals from other members, and some (like Joel) simply happened to see a bunch of girls being loud and obnoxious on a Tuesday night in a wine bar and arguing over modern feminism and decided he must be a part of the action. (Joel is still the brave, sole male in Book Club. Whenever we go out to dinner, it's Joel and eight girls. I think he's quite proud of this fact.)

As Book Club became less "club" and more "urban family unit," we tossed around the idea of going on vacation, unofficially as a group. We've done weekends in Ocean City, but a few years back someone dropped the idea of Vegas and it's sort of floated around in our miasma for awhile.

And then Catalano got engaged.

Two words: Bachelorette. Party.

Hence, Book Club Goes to Vegas. While not an officially sanctioned vacation, and sadly not everyone was able to go, it's still the culmination of years of friendship here in Baltimore. I've done just about everything with these girls; from running errands to meeting past and current boyfriend(s), or Friday night dance parties at the gay club to weekends at the beach. Moving to the city was a lonely, difficult, startling experience. Finding this group of friends changed everything for me and, I think, for most of them as well.

In preparation for Vegas, emails have been flying. And, as is only appropriate, a list of Rules is being drafted bit by bit. So far, the following have been established:
1. I am not to let Mrs. Spaz out of my sight, as per Mr. Spaz's orders. This is the blind leading the blind as Mrs. Spaz and I have been known to rile one another up into tailspins of terrible behavior.
2. Catalano and I are not to let Legs fall down or lose her purse. This will be a full time job.
3. No hookers. Dead or alive. (I argued mightily against this one. How fun would it be to pool our cash, hire a hooker, have her come to our room and tell us her life story and/or secrets of the Vegas underground while we drink champagne and compliment her on her Lucite heels? I was overruled. Lame.)
4. No tigers. Dead or alive.
5. If your fellow teammate is passed out, apply sun screen for her. She'll thank you later.

Other rules to be drafted, voted upon, and established upon arrival.

I can't wait.

Book Club Goes To Vegas

Flights are booked; it's official!

Book Club is going to Vegas in April.

If ever I needed a reason to start blogging again...........................

What Makes Us Happy?

I suddenly realized that four days had passed and I had yet to update this blog. This is the problem with this whole New Initiative. I've started too many New Initiatives recently and it's going to have to be a whole separate New Initiative genre to involve keeping all of these New Initiatives organized and managed in a timely fashion.

So....the question of the week is supposed to be "Savor everyday moments" in the happiness quest. And, in the spirit of this question, I will say this: I'm working on it, but the process of truly savoring everyday moments has left me with little time to actually blog about it.

This is ok. I've made peace with this, and you should too. Right? Right.

So this project is going to be a little more stretched out than I anticipated. But that's ok. It might take us a couple of months to get through these happiness points. But hey- that's just more happiness, right?

In other news, I can't believe it's the last weekend of July. This summer has been dominated by change and fun and lots of outdoor activities. Tonight is AVAM's outdoor Flicks on the Hill (King Kong) and this weekend is a kayaking trip with Ye Olde Book Club. Last night, Book Club destroyed about eight sushi rolls and a somewhat obscene amount of baked goods while watching Mansfield Park. Our summer agenda has been "Movies made from books." Mansfield Park is a bit more palatable to watch over dinner then our last movie, Precious: Based On the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire.

In other news: why is the cast of the Jersey Shore on the Today show? Seriously?

More to come on this savoring everyday moments thing.

Sexy Spring

"You know what's almost here?" Jaunt said to me last Friday night. We were in our natural habitat (read: in a bar, drinks in hand), recovering from a very exciting moment where we energetically "cheersed" one another with such velocity that I cracked her pint glass. These things happen.

"What?" I asked, thinking "End of the school year" (as Jaunt is a teacher) or "birthday season" (as we have a lot of birthdays, hers and mine included, coming up.)

"Sexy Spring!" she squealed.

Oh, Sexy Spring. How we've missed you. Bare feet and swishy skirts, and mojitos made with mint from the backyard. Sitting on the patio in the evenings with books in hand, spicy food on plates, and white wines. I've already decided that my wine of choice this summer will be a pinot grigio. I spent all of last summer lapping up Albarinos and sauvignon blancs, but I recently felt my palate shift again and I'm craving something with a little more body.

Spring is my most favorite time of year. Things get done in the spring. I am at my best in the spring.

Despite the fact that the local meteorologists have warned of impending Days Upon Days of Rain, it's a beautiful morning and I can feel spring edging up through the scant piles of snow that are still desperately trying to melt.

And, in exciting news, Book Club now has a website thanks to our brilliant Joel. It's absolutely beautiful, and will at some point display all of the books we've read as we come upon our three-year anniversary this summer. So you can all see what we're reading, and Joel smartly included links to purchase the books on Amazon, because you should.

Also, a friend of mine sent me this link of ultimate multi-tasking. I've been searching for a way to combine working out with artistic creativity and, naturally, drinking. Search no more.

I'm slowly but surely getting my life together and ready to leave on Monday for New Orleans. The anxiety is slowly waning and excitement is beginning to edge in.

Stay tuned, Glitteratis. Sexy Spring is in the air, and I couldn't be happier.