The Doer Is Actually The Dabbler

Verily I give to you ... a smattering. Resolutions become far too wistful and easily forgettable when ensconced in my mind. The only thing I can resolve to do is be myself and this requires the admission of a few things.

1. A seamstress I ain't. As a child the best thing about the sewing machine as far as I could see was that it has a pedal. I didn't know what one could create in conjunction with said pedal and I did not care--the pedal signified something was going some place and I have far too long fancied myself a traveler. I used to beg Mags to let me press the pedal while she threaded the bobbin (which I say with the same zeal as Borat would say, "Sprechen sie Deutsch.") and such. She rarely obliged and so I've had a hankerin' for that pedal and its romance with the bobbin and thread ever since. Needless to say, given the turnout of my first ever dinner napkins, it's a safe assumption that the hankerin' is unrequited. I had fun, but I still have my day job. Humbly I present to you, the Four Coral Haphazard Trapezoidikins.
2. "31" rhymes with "forever young." How else would I explain my predilection for actin' a fool in the middle of department stores?

   

   The image of ridiculousness that you see above is actually the result of an age-old past time my sister and I share. We can't help ourselves. Whenever and wherever there are hats in a store where passersby look like they need to shake their heads at two ridiculous adults actin' like their mother never let them show out in public you will find us hamming it up. The latest session marked our birthday weekend celebration. She turned 40 and spent the entire weekend assuring people that she wasn't a liar while I stood alongside her side-eyeing the hell out of them all practically hissing and daring them to ask me if perhaps our ages were switched. (Sometimes she's Lumiere from Beauty and the Beast and I'm that pudgy clock fella runnin' the show.)

   Anyway, I like to sell you the hat. It's a gift. Look above again. You know you want to go tobogganin' and mount a Canadian right now, don't you? You'll look dandy well doing it too I say.

   Or maybe you want to channel Zora Neal Hurston?

   

3. Since it had been nearly a decade since we celebrated our birthday together, we (namely she) felt we needed to do something tremendous to commemorate the event. Of course she had to go and hit not one, but two grand milestones: turning 40 and retiring from the Army all in one week. You can love her--she's completely lovable--but she also sucks. Retired. Come the eff on already. The only "re" I've got a handle on is a near perfect imitation of Zach Galifianakis saying "retard" coupled with the constant re-evaluation of what the hell I'm doing with myself. But I digress.  It was a big deal for her and all my insisting that we do something fresh and new finally paid off ... and promptly backfired in my face when she excitedly suggested we go on The Today Show for our birthday.

   Umpteen *Blink, blink. Blank stares* later I begrudgingly agreed to cash in all my interest-gaining former-NYC-dwelling cool chips and become a gee-dee tourist. If you ever need proof of my love, you'll get it in spades if I wake up early for you to do anything. Here we are showing as many teeth as possible from the front row (thanks for the shot Ed & Nik):

   

We had a delightful time freezing our bums off at the Rock Center. My highlight was noting how much taller than Al Roker I was upon shaking his hand. (And by taller, yes, I'm only talking an inch at most, but that victory is HUGE for me people so shut up.) Willie Geist was in for Matt which would've been a bummer were Willie not so darn charming and kind; Meredith was gracious and delightful; and Ann was bubbly and welcoming. Kim was Christmas-morning happy by 8:40 a.m. at which point I discovered that I had Quasimodo's feet on ice and so we hunkered down at 30 Rock to defrost and watch a perfectly sensible looking man swipe a left-behind Starbucks cup, have it refilled and take a swig from a lid that had kissed the lips of more than one person. New York. I've no words for it sometimes.

This year is off to a happy and fulfilling start. I've already hit up NYC twice in two weeks, and am kinda feeling like it could become a habit of sorts. I've got Southwest credits stockpiled and ready for travelin' and plenty of chums to see. Texas tops the list. I've never been, but seeing as how much I love a big adventure, I think it's high time for me to be the 14-bajillionth person to inquire indignantly about the Alamo's lack of basement. Plus, I'm feeling Festa-ive--Tex Mex, giggles and karaoke await. And I've been wearin' my hair big a lot lately so it seems all signs point to where they do everything the biggedy biggest. After that there's some Georgia on my mind, the Kackalack, Vegas, SF, NH and hopefully somewhere beachy in between. I've got bountiful hugs and giggles to spread, folks. I ain't gonna say "Get ready," 'cause you've heard it all before, but prepare thyselves for some surprises. I'm long overdue.