#20, or where has Pinot Noir been all my life?

This blog, for those who care, was originally about more than just my wedding. It was about something bigger, something more potentially life changing. Well, I seem to have fallen off the bandwagon (as I am wont to do, really), but I'm putting my foot down now. Let me just have a glass of wine.

But not just any wine. Red wine. Something that, up until a couple days ago, I hated. First of all, it's served room temperature, and I really hate that. I like my drinks hot or cold, depending on what it is, i.e. coffee or tea either way, water cold, hot chocolate, well hot. Second, the taste. For me, red wine always looks really good. I mean, it's a gorgeous drink, a really beautiful color, and god knows I love the look of wine glasses. So all in all, very pretty. It looks like it should taste fantastic, and I suppose to many people it is. But you know when you see something that looks really good, and you are really excited about until you actually take a bite, and you find it's nothing like you expected, and you really don't like it? You know that face you make when that happens? That's the face I make when I drink red wine.

But there is something so romantic about it to me. I've always thought it was a really adult thing to do, to go to a restaurant and drink red wine. I don't know why I think this, but it's something I associate with being an adult (I know, there are teenagers across the globe drinking cheap Merlot out of plastic cups who are definitely not adults). It's a sophisticated drink. To me, it says, "I'm an adult who knows what I'm talking about." Even if you really don't (and I know most probably don't, but bear with me).

Most of the time I feel like I'm just pretending to be an adult. I'm 23, almost 24. I have two degrees. I manage to make some money freelancing while job hunting. I can do my own laundry without losing socks (a real triumph), and I'm getting married, but I still feel like a kid. Whenever I go out with John's friends, who are all slightly older than me, I feel like I'm masquerading as one of them.

Which, in some ways, is kind of funny, because I don't know I've ever seen any of them drinking red wine. I'm pretty sure I've seen more of my age friends drinking red wine than his, but still, this is how I perceive it.

So, the other night, I decided to go out on a limb and give it another try. While at the grocery store, I purchased a bottle of Pinot Noir.

The (Illustrated) Story of Us: Pinot Noir & Me



I chose this specific type of red wine because I really like Pinot Grigio, so it seemed like a good place to start. I chose this brand because I really like its Pinot Grigio. And it was seven bucks, and that's about all I was willing to spend.



I carefully read the bottle. As you do. Well, at least as I do.



And then I took a sip.

And another.

And another.

The verdict?



I liked it. Even better, I really liked it. I might even say I love it. I could go as far to see it might be my new favorite drink, but my love for vodka tonics is long and strong, so I don't know about that. But I definitely enjoyed it much more than I thought I would.

I was honestly I little surprised it was as easy as this. I don't know if it was the kind of wine, the brand, the fact that no one is breathing down my neck asking, "Did you like it?" or what. But regardless, I like it. Maybe it's psychosomatic, but I really don't care. Even if I never find another kind of red wine I enjoy, I'll always have Bella Sera Pinot Noir.

And no, I don't automatically feel like an adult, but I do feel a little more sophisticated, a little more exciting, and adult-ish. Which is better than pseudo adult any day.

Oh, I have a blog?

So, I've really dropped the ball on my little project over here. At least, I've dropped the ball on the blogging part of it.

Anyway, I have been up to things, both project related, wedding related and otherwise:

I've taught someone something. I've watched a scary movie (I would even say it was two scary movies, but John would probably argue neither were than scary. I beg to differ on this. My game, my rules). I've added to my fitness routine by doing power yoga and pilates. And I've been working on a few other things, as well.

Wedding related, I ordered my save-the-dates yesterday (so, so, so cute!), picked out my invitations

In the otherwise department, we went on a small vacation to Florida for Labor Day, where we celebrated John's birthday and my mom's birthday. I went to Lafayette to visit my brother, SIL and nephew. I went to Baton Rouge (a lot) to visit John. I've also been trying my hardest to get a job, which is almost like a job in and of itself (albeit an extremely unrewarding, crappy paying one).

So, what I'm saying here is, no I haven't forgotten about this. I've just been busy. And if I'm being an entirely honest, I little uninspired, but I'm working on that. I've got a few entries outlined, so hopefully I'll be back to our regularly scheduled blog posts shortly.

Toodles! (For today only! I promise!)

#30

#30 Accept the fact I will never join a gym and find a fitness program that works for me.

I often tell people I'm allergic to the gym, and I'm not lying when I say it. I have real, legitimate, visceral reactions when I am in, near, or around a gym. I start to sweat, itch and shake. I get a pit in my stomach. Every fiber in my being is screaming, "GET AWAY GET AWAY." Sometimes, I break out in a rash.

I've been told, by people with "medical degrees" and "knowledge", that this is less of an "allergic reaction" to the gym itself, but probably a "reaction to the anxiety I associate with the gym". Pffft. Whatever, doctors. I'm allergic to those bitches, and that's all there is to it.

Regardless of whether trained, medical professionals are correct or I am, one thing is undeniable: I really hate the mother effing gym.

As I have admitted in previous posts, I am not one of those stick thin girls. I'm not one of those in shape girls. Hell, I'm not even one of those average girls (all though, on a good day, I can pass for it). I am, as my noni so fondly calls it, a "big" girl. Slightly overweight. Big boned. I will never be thin. At my absolute smallest, I squeezed into a size 8, but if I'm being entirely honest, I was more comfortable in a 10. I am currently in a size 12. Sometimes, I wear a size 14.

And this, gentle readers, is why I hate the gym.

When you are a un-fit size 12/14, things don't always look good in motion. I believe Bridget Jones said it best: You know, wobbly bits. I have them. And, they, well, wobble when I try to do active things. Like, say, run. Or bike. Or whatever. I have no control over the direction certain body parts lumber off in. Things bounce without permission. Objects may make sudden, unexpected, uncontrollable movements. What I am saying is, I cannot control "the motion in the ocean" (Isn't that a pleasant image? I apologize). And there's nothing I can about it short of lubing myself up and shoving my whole body into a spandex suit, and you know, I'm not even sure that would do anything for my appropriately named thunder thighs.

So, when I run on the treadmill next to those stick thin, really fit guys and gals, I am super aware of what my own body looks like.

In addition to the body image dimorphism, I often feel like going to the gym is a competition against those around me. I see Pretty Blond Girl running, and I feel like I have to run as long as she does. If you haven't figured it out yet, I hate running and am not in shape, so this is delusional at best and down-right crazy at worst. I can never run as long as someone else at the gym.

Unless I find someone in worst shape than I am to compare myself to, I will always feel inadequate at the gym. And that's unlikely. How many overweight people do you see at the gym? Exactly. Few, if any. They avoid it for the same reasons I avoid it. Look it up. It's called gym intimidation. Seriously, you can Google it.

Anyway, long story short, the gym and I are not friends, and we never will be.

With that said, I want to look stunning on my wedding day, and I would love to put forth the effort to lose some weight. Just not at the gym. Enter my father (this is a good story, I promise). My dad walks every morning. Walking is something I can do. It's actually better on your joints than running, and brisk walking burns about the same calories per minute as running does .

So, every morning at about 6:30, I've been walking a few miles with my dad and other people from the neighborhood. It's actually, dare I say it, fun, because there's good company for gossiping, and I don't feel like anyone is judging me. I actually feel superior than people. I feel like I am exuding a very "Look at me! I'm up and at 'em and sweatin' and burnin' some fat! You all wish you were as awesome as me!" attitude. It's very liberating.

Anyhoo, so I'm walking. And I've added crunches to the routine, too. And soon, I'll start P90 with John. Between all of this, here's to hoping I'll see some results.

#23

#23 Eat in a restaurant by myself

For some reason, I always thought this would be really embarrassing. Like, everyone around would think, "Look at her! Does she have no friends? Does no one love her? Why is she eating all by herself?" I guess I worry about this because, sadly, this is was I think when I see people eating by themselves in a restaurant. Also, I am definitely the type to worry about what people think of me. I attribute this mostly to the way I was brought up, but it has also been reinforced by my studies/work in public relations, which is ALL ABOUT knowing, caring and influencing WHAT OTHER PEOPLE think about YOU (excessive use of caps in that sentence? Yea or nay?). Anyway, I was legitimately nervous when I went into the restaurant after class today.

I specifically chose a restaurant that didn't look to crowded, specifically at a time in between meals. I went in around 11:30 or so, after my class let out early.

I approached the hostess stand, where a perky 20 something girl who puts too much effort into her job greeted me, "Hi! How many today?"

"Just me," I told her hesitantly.

Now, at this point, I'm not sure what I was expecting, a scoff, maybe. Perhaps a sneer. Yes, I realize this would have been bad business on her part, and I'm sure a lot of people go into this particular restaurant for lunch alone, but this is the way my mind works. But she just continued smiling, grabbed service for one, and asked if there was anywhere in particular I wanted to sit. (Ya'll, it was pretty much deserted. Literally me and two other tables.) I chose a table by a window, where I could sit close to a wall, so I could see everything around me and outside (I really, really, really enjoy people watching).

OK, so one challenge down, now it was time to face the waiter. As luck would have it, I was waited on by a pretty attractive guy (Yippee, what everyone wants, to be judged by a good looking member of the opposite sex!), who actually turned out to be gay, so, sweet relief, I guess. He asked if I wanted something to drink. I ordered an iced tea. When he came back, I ordered food, and he left. He was very nice, very observant, and he made no attempt to make small talk, which was perfectly OK by me because I hate small talk with a passion.

I ended up taking out the notebook I carry around with me to brainstorm in, write things down, etc. You could call it a "writing notebook" or if you really wanted, a "journal" and spent a blissfully quiet, uninterrupted hour writing.

No one asked why I was alone. No one cared I was alone. It was fantastic. When I was done, I left the waiter a nice tip for A) being a good server and B) leaving me alone.

So, I guess I can cross this one off as a success. I think I might this a regular thing. There is definitely something to be said for it!

Checking in

I know some people say "no news is good news" but that's not really the case for blogs.

There hasn't been much action on the list lately, and I ran out of origami paper (almost 100 cranes down!) so I'm momentarily paused on that, but I hate to let weeks lapse between entries, so here I am.

Anyhoo, I've started my second summer session of classes, and I only have one class, so I haven't been super busy with school, but I have begun packing up my stuff for the big move home, and wedding planning is in full swing now (we have an officiant, yay for that!), so those things are keeping me pretty busy. Not that it's really any excuse. There are tons of things on the list I could be doing. I'm hoping to accomplish a few in the next week (or so), like:

23. Eat in a restaurant by myself
26. Go to NYC
41. Send a message in a bottle

In regards to #41, writer's block is attacking on this oh-so-important task. What would you say?

Fears

When I was little, I had to be put to bed with the light on. As in, whoever was tucking me (E.G. Mom) that night left my bedroom light on, and then either my mom or dad, or if they could be persuaded, one of my brothers, turned the light off after I had fallen asleep. I also had three nightlights in my room, and a window that faced the street and a streetlamp. Clearly, for those who like to sleep in the complete dark, my childhood room was not for you.

In addition to this, I would ONLY be tucked in by my mother, because only she knew how to do it "right". My mom would spray what she called "sweet dream spray", which was really perfume she used to wear (I can't remember if she bought an extra bottle, or just used one she didn't care for), all around my room. She would then sing me a song. It was the same song, actually, every night. I don't know the name, it was a lullaby of some sort. However, when I Googled the lyrics, it was included in a fan fiction about Alvin & the Chipmunks. Random.

Anyhoo, all of this was done because I had two things: An extreme fear of the dark (could you tell?) and an over reactive imagination. I used to honestly believe all of the following: An evil wizard lived under my bed, mean gorillas had a habitat in my closet, and a vampire perched in the tree outside my window. Naturally, these things only manifested themselves at night. Some kids have imaginary friends, I was so prone to fear, I had imaginary villains in my room.

This is somewhat embarrassing, but I slept with a nightlight well into high school. The only reason I stopped was because, well, it was high school, I had friends sleeping over, and it was just plain humiliating to sleep with a night light when you were old enough to drive a car. But my fear of the dark has never gone away.

To this day, the number one thing I'm scared of is the dark. Everything is scary in the dark. When I'm getting ready to go to bed, I have to turn off lights in reverse order, meaning, I work my way from one side to the other, so that a light is ALWAYS on somewhere in the house. In the house I'm in currently, once all the lights are off downstairs, I practically sprint upstairs. Where the lights are on. If I have to get up to go the bathroom in the middle of the night, all lights go on again.

This is pathetic. I know.

What does this have to do with the list? A lot. #4 on the list is "conquer my fears." The dark being the biggest.

This weekend, I made an attempt to conquer my fear of the dark.

I failed.

I was home alone this weekend, and my already strong fears intensify when I'm by myself. I feel extremely vulnerable, weak, and for some reason, more obvious to others. Like everyone passing by knows I'm alone and scared. What a perfect time, then, I thought, to try to spend some time alone. In the dark. As in by myself.

I tried, I really did, but irrational fear won every time I tried. I would stand next to the light switch, and all I could do was think about all the things that might happen if I were to just hang around in the dark. "A serial killer could get me!" As highly unlikely as this is, it's the thing I'm most afraid of "getting me" in the dark. "Someone could break in!" Also unlikely, since the house has an alarm system. "There could be monsters in the closet!" Okay, I don't really think that one, but I just needed to throw it out there to show you how ludicrous these thoughts are. As a result of freaking myself even more, I hardly slept all weekend.

I'm thinking I need to start with a different fear, one that is less...established. Like maybe snakes. Or clowns.

What are some of your irrational fears? What do you do to calm them?

One month anniversary

Saturday will mark one whole month of blogging here at Secret Life of a Bride-to-Be. Oh, how time flies!

Since I intend on spending my weekend between summer session 1 and summer session 2 doing absolutely nothing but laying out and reading smut novels, I thought I would get my monthly update out of the way now.

Every month (on the 27th), I will provide you, dear readers, with an update about where I stand in this adventure, what I have left, what I'm planning, how many days till the wedding, and any pearls of wisdom I've learned, or how/if these items have changed me. Here is our first installment:

Items completed: 4
Items to go: 51
Items started: 2
Days till the wedding: 352 (Good God, that seems like a lot. I guess it is.)

The items I've completed are #16, buy something completely frivolous, #18, make a discovery, #21, actually keep in touch with people far away from me, and #48 kick my caffeine habit (don't forget, you can keep up with the whole list here).

Of these four items, kicking the caffeine habit has been the hardest by a long shot. I miss my caramel macchiatos at Starbucks! I miss doing crossword puzzles with a cup of joe. Tea just isn't the same. I've realized that it wasn't so much the caffeine I was addicted to as it was the gentle routine of indulging in these items everyday. I associate my mornings with the taste of an Americano. My afternoons were caramel macchiatos. My weekends were regular coffee with milk and sugar at home. It's a sad state of affairs in my world, folks. Yes, I do feel better without all the caffeine in my system, but I miss it's smooth, creamy texture and the comfort I always got from drinking it. Everyday has been a test of my will power with this one. Some days are better than others. I do consider the habit kicked, but I don't think I'll ever get over losing coffee.

(In the interest of full disclosure, I highly suspect a relapse will occur after the wedding. Just saying.)

So far, I've learned a few things about myself. The biggest realization being about my athletic ability (or lack there of). Also of note, my re-found love for phone convos with the BFFS.

I've had a lot of fun this past month. It's going to continue, too, because the circus is comin' to Plymouth soon, and guess who's gonna go? Also, I ordered origami paper (would you believe no craft stores around here carried it? Unfreakingbelievable) on Amazon, so I'm sure some excellent pictures of my attempt to fold cranes will be forthcoming. At last count, I have almost 40 cranes to make up for since I was supposed to start this on June 11. Oops.

I just want to say thanks for reading thus far, and I hope you've all enjoyed this as much as I have been. I can't wait to see where else this takes me.

Writing about writing

(This is a somewhat unrelated post, as it's not really about the list, but kind of is, at the same time.)

For most, if not all, of my life, I've considered myself a writer. I've definitely always enjoyed writing, and it's certainly something I have a knack for, but for some reason, it wasn't until recently that I considered it a career choice.

For those who are unaware, I majored in Mass Communication at my undergrad, and I'm currently in what seems to be the endless maze that is grad is, attempting to survive and get my master's in public relations. Counting my academic years, I've been in the same "industry" for five years, yet I have trouble visualizing myself actually being a PR consultant or manager or what have you.

When people ask me, "So, Katy, what are you going to do after grad school?" I'm at a loss at what to tell them, because I honestly don't know. I can't even say for certain if there is a certain type of PR I want to do. I've found that this upsets even the most mild mannered of people. For some reason, I'm expected to just know.

"Well, what do you like to do?" They'll ask next.

"I like to write." I'll answer. Then these well-meaning people, I'm sure, will attempt to spout off a few things that kind of involve writing, but not really.

I jumped into my major feet first without really knowing what it was. From a distance, it seemed exciting, even a little glamorous. By the time I figured out it was mostly anything but either (most days), I was too deep in the pool to get out. (Or too lazy to change my major. Your pick.) Now, I'm stuck in it, at least for the time being, because I've segmented myself so much it will probably be impossible for me to get a job doing anything but PR. At least for a while.

This is probably why I've been such an avid blogging advocate for so long. Blogging is a release. I can write about anything I want in any way I want. I don't have to conform to templates and outlines and AP style. It's also why I'll never blog about my career. I can't think of anything interesting to say about it that hasn't already been said by someone more passionate about PR than I. I can, however, blog about me, my life, my experiences, and my thoughts on other matters. Like, for instance, becoming a "real" writer.

After years of education, I'm finally seeing myself as someone who could, one day, be a writer. That's why #8, write a children's book, is on the list. Of all the things I want to write, children's books are number one on the list (tied with short stories. I love writing short stories). I've always felt I would be a good kid's book author. I love kids, enjoy YA literature, and I think characters would be so more fun to explore.

The other day I started research on my book (yes, it needs some research). I began developing my main character, and I must say, I'm in love with the little bugger. He's (it's a he) a mix of both my nephews, a touch of what I think John was like as a child, with a little nonsense thrown in for taste. I can't wait to see what adventures we go on together. Hopefully he'll make a "real" writer out of me :).

Wedding planning update

Well, after much heave ho, John and I finally set an official date.

We're getting married June 11, 2011. So, less than a year away.

(I better get cracking on those cranes.)

If you're at all curious, you can read more about us, our wedding, and whatever else on our dorky wedding website:

Click here for more info. I mean, if you really want to.

With that said, I did cross something else off my list this weekend, but it will have to wait for later. I hope everyone had a splendid weekend!

#21

# 21 Actually keep in touch with people far away from me

I'm notoriously bad at keeping in touch with people. Ask any of my friends. They'll be brutally honest (but they aren't much, if at all, better than I am) and agree, wholeheartedly.

It's funny. My mom is terrific at writing letters. Still, to this day, she writes letters to my Noni (her mother-in-law), even though they speak on the phone weekly. These aren't just casual notes, but detailed letters covering a week of activities over the course of several pages. Yet, here I am, incapable of picking up a phone and calling someone, just to say "Hi."

No more.

Last week, I had a three hour phone conversation with one of my best friends, Emily. We spent a lot of time waxing poetic about high school, waste deep in nostalgia. We vented. We reminisced. We reassured. Mostly, we laughed.

Ya'll, it was really, really nice. I had forgotten how nice it can be to talk, not text. I usually feel you need a reason to bother someone with a phone call, note or email. I've realized that you don't need a reason, per se, but rather a want to speak to the person on the other line, and that in itself is reason enough. It won't be a bother, but more than likely, a welcome break from reality.

My friends are fabulous people. I'm blessed to have them in my life. And now, it's a lot easier to pick up the phone, just to say hi.

Update on other list related items: I think I've successfully kicked the caffeine addiction! It took a couple weeks, but I no longer wake up really tired, and most days I don't even get cravings toward mid-afternoon, which was when I usually chugged a double shot from Starbucks. I will admit, I have been drinking a lot of tea, mostly due to the summer cold from hell, but also because, hey, I'm southern, drinking iced tea is what we do. It's got way less caffeine than coffee, so I'm considering it a win all around.

Also-also: The wedding is less than a year away, and I need to get cracking on my paper cranes! It's dawned on me I have no idea how to make origami cranes. Anyone have a good reference?

AND: Still waiting to do my red wine shtick. I need suggestions. What are some of your favorites?

#18

#18 Make a Discovery

This really should have read "make a personal discovery" because that's what I intended it to be. I wanted to do this because I think it's important to constantly "rediscover" who you are and who you want to be. I know, for me, it's easy to grow complacent and forget that I am a multifaceted individual, capable of extraordinary things, I just have to discover them.

Yesterday, I did something extraordinary. I played wiffle ball.

For those of you who know me personally, the idea that I willingly played a sport is at best comical and at worst downright incredulous and hysterical. I am not an athletic person. In fact, I often claim to be the most nonathletic person in the world. Because of this non-talent, I feel embarrassed when I play sports, and since I hate to be made fun of, I take all the jabs made when you participate in an activity such as a sport personally.

But, yesterday, at a family cookout, I was somehow persuaded to play wiffle ball. I wasn't very excited at first, but once I got into it, I had fun. I was even able to take all the jabbing of, "Oh, Katy is at bat, everyone move in!" in jest. And you know what? I wasn't even half bad at it. I even made a couple runs.

I've always thought since I'm not good at sports, playing them would be unbearable (I blame years of P.E. in school). But, yesterday, I learned it's okay to make a fool out of myself and play a game, even if I'm not athletically inclined. It can be fun, and dare I say, enjoyable enough to do again in the future, name-calling and personal insults included.

(When I told John this, he basically said, "Yeah? That's what I've been trying to tell you!" File this under "Things I need to learn on my own, which is why I didn't listen to you in the first place, sorry.")

#48

Yesterday, I vowed to start my list with something I've been meaning to get to for quite sometime. So, after savoring my last Americano for what will conceivably be a long time yesterday afternoon, today I started #48, kicking my caffeine habit.

And, as fate would have it, I woke up at 7 a.m., on a Saturday.

This will be harder than I thought.

Parameters

Rules. Life is full of 'em. This project is no exception.

The list took me a long time to figure out, but deciding how I was going to go about it was even harder. Alas, rules must be made (what would you break later without them?).

1. All items must be completed by my wedding day. (ETA: Now set for June 11, 2011).
2. No killing two birds with one stone, e.g., by riding a bicycle made for two, I can't be taking on a physical challenge. A caveat: One of my biggest fears is clowns. I need to conquer this fear. I also have to go to the circus. Since clowns are in abundance at the circus, these two will probably be accomplished together, under the assumption I will not be going to the circus solely for the clowns, which I won't.
3. Once the list is live, there is no going back. All the items must be completed. No substitutions because I changed my mind.
4. A buddy can be used for moral support, unless the item necessitates the cheese stand alone.
5. I will document each item as I cross it off within 3 days of accomplishing it.

Well, there they are. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The list

So, here it is. The master list of things I want to complete before saying "I do!" next year. All 55 of 'em.

Quick note: Why 55? 55 is a multiple of 11, my favorite number. Also, it is 5, 11 times, and that's 2 prime numbers, and I really dig prime numbers. And? It seemed like a good place to stop.

55 (realistic) things to do before I get married:

1. Ride the world’s biggest roller coaster (in this case the tallest and fastest steel coaster, which is in Jackson, NJ)
2. Dance on a bar
3. Start a pointless collection
4. Conquer my fears
5. Go to the circus
6. Learn to sew
7. Find a (fulfilling) hobby (and actually do it)
8. Write a children’s book
9. Ride a horse
10. Take an artistic class
11. Learn how to change the oil in my car
12. Be a better daughter
13. Be a better sister
14. Get a job
15. Become a big sister (like, in the mentoring way, not biologically)
16. Buy something completely frivolous
17. Meet a favorite celebrity
18. Make a discovery
19. Become a better crunchy-granola-earth-friendly hippie girl
20. Learn to love red wine
21. Actually keep in touch with people far away from me
22. Take on a physical challenge
23. Eat in a restaurant by myself
24. Become more “fiscally responsible”
25. Cleanse myself and my belongings
26. Go to NYC
27. Be less envious
28. Let John teach me something
29. Expand my pallet
30. Accept the fact that I will never join a gym, and find a fitness program that actually works for me
31. Go fishing
32. Build a thicker skin
33. Shoot a gun
34. Ride a bicycle made for two
35. Fly a plane
36. Plant some plants
37. Donate blood
38. Sleep in a (truly) haunted house
39. Go on a spontaneous trip
40. Write a letter to the editor and get it published
41. Send a message in a bottle
42. Go camping
43. Make a time capsule to share with my kids one day
44. Get my fortune told
45. Listen to my iPod right through without hitting shuffle for a week
46. Take a vow of silence (for a day)
47. Teach someone something
48. Kick my caffeine habit
49. Fold 1000 paper cranes (that’s approximately 3 a day for the next year) and give them away
50. Learn how to do my taxes
51. Take pole-dancing lessons.
52. Live without my cell phone for a day
53. Make it through a scary movie
54. Be less whiny and more appreciative
55. Plan my wedding without being a bridezilla

A lot of thought went into this list. It's a product of several weeks of intense thought and reflection. Each item is designed to challenge me, push me to my limits, test the boundaries or scare the crap out of me. Inevitably, each teach me something about myself or life, or in the best case scenario, something about both.

The quest

Getting married is a big deal.

I'm told that in order to have a successful marriage, one should be completely at peace with oneself prior to marriage. Totally happy with who you are as an individual. Or something to that effect.

I'm getting married next year. I am truly excited, and I honestly cannot wait to be the Future Mrs. So-and-So. While I am mostly happy with who I am (I haven't met anyone who is 100% happy. Everyone has some issue with themselves. I mean, nobody's perfect), I recognize, realistically, there are things I should probably do before going to the chapel.

Why am I doing this? I want to become the best possible version of myself before getting married, and by taking on this project, I can do that. Marriage is work, and I know it won't always be easy, but in all honestly, if I can make it through a horror film, conquer my fear of heights and clowns and go camping in one year, I can be one half of a happy marriage. In a way, it's a gift to my future husband, as I hope that becoming this better version of myself, I will become the best wife I can be.

From this point forward til my wedding day (tentatively scheduled for sometime in June 2011) I will take on my personal Everest and document every terrifying, exhilarating, amazing moment.

So, welcome :).