Carpe Diem

I've recently been inspired to create a Bucket List. No, I'm not going through a mid-life crisis, a divorce or a death in the family. I haven't even lost my job. I just think most Bucket Lists will take YEARS to complete, so why not start early?

For as long as I can remember, my parents have POUNDED the importance of "planning your dive, and diving your plan". About 3 years ago, I took that to heart... and to the extreme... when I jumped out of a plane. I'm a moderate adrenaline junkie that wanted to do something completely out of my control and characteristically insane.

The appointment was made, the deposit was deposited, but when I pulled up to the address from the website, I literally almost turned around. The double wide trailer with clucking chickens out front didn't exactly scream SAFE SKY DIVE.



but plan your dive, dive your plan. So we moved forward with the paperwork and watched a short video in the double wide. On a 4" screen like those kitchen TVs from the 90s. BUT plan your dive, dive your plan, Ashley. So I dove out of a plane at 10,000 ft in January strapped to the front of the creepiest man I've ever met. And I l o v e d every second of it.

One week later, I got this great shot of the small, rusty plane I jumped out of and I vowed to be pickier with my next skydiving selection.



I've done other crazy things like running marathons, being a young American female that travels to Indonesia to meet Balinese people from a book I read, and I just recently signed up for a 3.6 mile run with 14 obstacles ranging from running through a creek, jumping over fire, and crawling under barbed wire in a mud pit. And I'm running it in this.




but there are still things I'm just dying to do! So without further adieu, here is my Bucket List The 2010 Edition:

• Sky dive, part deaux
• Bungee jump off a bridge
• Take Sheila Kelly’s S-factor course
• Shoot a real gun at inanimate objects, then possibly at small, over-populated animals
• Visit Andy and Haleybug in Alaska and kayak through their glacier-filled backyard
• Do a triathlon
• Zip line through a rain forest
• Slalom for longer than 2 minutes without falling
• Sober karaoke
• Decide on a Wednesday that I’m taking a vacation Friday-Sunday, and go somewhere fabulous


First up? A triathlon in April. Hold on to your tutus.

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Intervention

This has the potential to be embarrassing and reflect poorly on my character, but I'm an honest engine, I just can't help it.

Intervention on A&E is my favorite guilty pleasure.

Much like Dr. Lara's radio show, it's a train wreck I just have to immerse myself in. You see, I'm a hyper-empathetic character by nature so it's not uncommon that I'll literally feel my heart break when I pass someone in a wheelchair or see someone sporting a cast and limping, and my respective limb will actually start aching. It's a pretty crazy-out-of-body experience that I've grown accustomed to.

The other day Alyssa and I were laying, one of her favorite pastimes, while watching Intervention, one of my favorite pastimes, and it was one that I will never forget. I can usually be found watching the show in my default "empathetic stance" - hands over mouth, balled into fists and shivering at the first sight of a needle. But this time, I was chin-to-the-floor. glued to the screen. IN HYSTERICS.

Alyssa and I met Janet last week. Imagine Cruella Deville morphed perfectly with Magda from There's Something About Mary. Got it? That's Janet. Early-50s with frizzy blonde hair, cigarette and drink in hand, rolls falling over the edge of her scantily clad outfits, flashing old men. d r u n k every second of the day.

I've seen many-a-Intervention, but none compare to this one. YA'LL, this lady couldn't utter a word without slurring. She literally walked around her small country town alone in the daylight with a glass of wine flashing old men on their porches. There was even a moment that she was begging her ex-husband to take her back in a voice that is comparable to the high pitch noise only dogs can hear. with a HUGE piece of brisket hanging out of her mouth. I just can't imagine why he'd have second thoughts...

Now, one of my fondest childhood memories is making home videos with our dad all over the neighborhood. Of course he came up with all the brilliant ideas, told us what to say and what to do, and like good children/mindless pawns, we acted. There's a particular scene from one of our Anderson Home Movies that I was reminded of on the fateful day I met Janet.

In a classic rendition of Aesop's fable, my sister and I were the Tortoise and the Hare. During this particular scene, my sister, The Hare, is passed out under a tree napping when I ride by her on my bicycle (slightly leaning to the right to keep my balance, no thanks to those damn training wheels). I yelled something characteristically antagonistic to wake her up, and she came running after me..... the scene from Janet's fable went a little something like that, with the exception of the pop-up-and-run part. Janet was passed out next to a car in front of her house after she lost her balance and fell with a glass of wine in hand. Her niece rode by on a bicycle, noticing Janet on the ground. The niece came back to poke her and proclaimed, "Aunt Janet is dead." Janet stirred and said, "I wissh."

So maybe that doesn't sound very funny, but the A&E camera crew filmed from the same angles that dad did. I thought it was a good connection.

Anyway, the final bit of hysteria with Janet was in the actual intervention when she couldn't keep her groping hands off her 80 year old boyfriend, Bob. She announced at they would be married soon, then proceeded to beg her ex-husband over there to profess his love for her ?? You guys, T R A I N W R E C K. But the worst part was when her son began reading a letter from his heart, "Mom, I love you so much and miss the relationship we once had..." Janet threw up her arms in disgust and yelled, "God almighy, thisis b*llsh*t." Maybe not the best reaction from a mother?

Needless to say, my esophagus and liver weren't aching with empathy. I pitied her. In fact, I think high schools should just replay Janet's show instead of those drunk driving wreck videos. I'm never picking up a beer again.

Well that's a lie, because "everything in moderation" is my motto, but MARK MY WORDS (and ignore the picture of me with vodka in the previous post), I promise I will never be an alcoholic.

Blogging Requires a Winter Break Too Ya Know

Listen here. I do not appreciate threats. I don't even think they're legal. And I'm sure some Security Monitor in the blogosphere would love to open up a can of whoop ass on anyone that threatens boycotting my blog if I do not update. Now I realize it's been about 3 weeks since I've last posted, but FOR REALS... threats?! You know who you are.

Life has been a bit busy, what with working and eating and all. But seriously, the last few weeks have been a crazy mix of New Years, applying to gradschool, 20th and 27th birthdays. . . which may seem like plenty to blog about, but I need some inspiration of the humorous kind. My eyes are now peeled - just wait for it. And in the meantime, here are some fabulous photos of some pretty awesome Anderson birthday parties I've attended in the last 5 days.

'Tis Not The Season Anymore

I'm sitting here at my desk, twiddling my thumbs between client relations, wishing my abundance of vacation time wasn't staring me in the face (like the money with bug eyes from the Geico commercials. Which, by the way, I actually switched to Geico last year and saved a ton of money on my car insurance: almost $80/month). I don't regret much in life, but I do regret not utilizing my vacation days for this week. UNFORTUNATELY, I'm an overachiever of sorts. The kind that feels like I can't take vacation days unless I'm actually leaving town on vacation. Novel concept, I know. But here I am sitting at my desk, with nothing but the sounds of crickets chirping because everyone else was smart enough to take this week off, and sweet memories of my favorite season.

This Christmas was a magical one with a brand new baby and snow in Texas!!


What more could a girl ask for when she already has her two front teeth?? I was pleased as punch to see a ton of old faces at a mini high school reunion. Other than that, my 5 days were spent in the confines of our 3-acre winter wonderland with the family... playing, laughing, planning, napping, snuggling (sans Dad, of course, since he's not much of snuggler)... and I'm not so proud to say, but I'll do it anyway, the only exercise I did was the Mouth kind (i.e. sarcasm, chomping, chewing, talking). Just as it should be.





Now I'm beginning my New Years Resolutions... one of which is... I will not beat myself up about New Years Resolutions.

Short and SWEET

Cheesecake balls under my office Christmas tree? Merry Christmas to me.





These are what I lovingly refer to as "lard lollipops". One of the most delicious things I've tasted in a while.

I also have a confession. I went shopping for the first time today. And I will NEVER wait this late again. I'd venture to say it's worse out there than Black Friday! Ick.

Read My Mouth

Lately I've been over consumed with matters of the mouth.

Recently, I started preparing for my bi-annual teeth cleaning. The week before the appointment was full of avoidance. Avoidance of coffee without straws, jolly ranchers and lemon juice. Not that I eat those things regularly, but I certainly know their catastrophic affects on your enamel. Don't ever say I don't read my pamphlets! I also flossed like it was going out of style. I guess I was hoping my week of extra devotion to my mouth would would trick the dental professionals into paying me and my chops a compliment... or that somehow, a week of brushing my teeth "with soft-to-medium strokes in the correct direction of gum growth for the duration of two ABC songs" would change the amount of plaque that's accumulated on my enamel over the past 6 months. Well, it probably doesn't, but I FELT clean going into my cleaning and that's all that counts. And folks, I'm here to tell ya, I'm proof that cramming works. From studying to flossing, I've mastered the technique of pseudo-preparation. That compliment I was fishing for? I got it. From the dental assistant. When I laid down and opened up, she said "oh, pretty teeth". But right before I let my heart smile because my work didn't go unnoticed, I realized she must see the retched teeth from those "before and after" photos daily, so I took the compliment with a grain of salt.

I was also thinking about how awkward dentistry is. Almost more intimate than OB-GYN. Have you ever thought about how strange it is to have someone picking in your mouth like that? And why on earth do they try to carry on conversation with you? It's actually a form of torture for talkers like myself. I like to talk, and ask and answer without fists and metal objects in my mouth.

I'm also arriving at the big decision to have my wisdom teeth removed. I've been told I'm 3 wise, missing 1 unit of wisdom. One of my wisdom teeth is visible to me and is my favorite substitute in the chewing game when my first string is tired. (Just kidding, but I really enjoyed that metaphor). Anyway, not too long ago, I picked up my best friend from her oral surgery and had the time of my life! The girl was 2 whole minutes out of anesthesia trying to speak intelligently on the terms of her insurance coverage. Really smart things were coming out of her slow-slurring, cotton-filled mouth. It was hysterical and I'd love to provide that entertainment to someone... except I'm terrified of dry socket and not sure really smart things will come out of my mouth.

But really, there's no option. In no time at all, I'll be back in school for a year and half with no dental insurance to speak of... so now's the time... carpe diem, little tooths.

Thoughts Like A Pinball Machine

I think it's important to note that as of November 27, 2009, I know my nephew in the flesh. and the pictures scarcely do him justice. He has the sweetest, freshest, brand new warm smell that anyone with a nose and a heart can appreciate. He is adorned with the softest, little fluffy brunette hairs atop his head, which I'm not sure why, but makes me think of Steve Martin's hilarity... "Oh pointy bird. Pointy pointy. Anoint my head. Anointy nointy." At any rate, he's perfect - and I'm not just saying that to annoy my sister who will undoubtedly fight me tooth and nail to be THAT Aunt, but seriously - he's perfect. And he can already talk! Can you believe it? He says Neh, Heh, Eh, Owh, and my favorite, Eairh, which means "I have wind". All of this according to Dunstan's Baby Languages. You may be a skeptic but I really wouldn't doubt that the offspring of Brooke Honor and David Max would actually be thinking those exact words "I have wind" if he has to fart, so this whole thing probably isn't that far off.





But in other news, we're approaching the holiday party season! This is also a fun time of year for me, because there's always a smidgen of a chance someone will host a Tacky Christmas Sweater party and I'll be afforded the opportunity to dress in costume again. This year, it's our annual holiday luncheon for the office and will be my largest costume debut to date, my friends. 200 unsuspecting co-workers will get to see my holiday spirit in a neon green, zip-up sweater with tacky ribbons and offensive designs (a 2008 Marshall's purchase), complimented by candy cane stockings and costume jewelry inspired by The Who ... of The Grinch, not the rock band ... I'm pulling out all the stops - there are door prizes involved!!

I'm also brainstorming birthday celebration ideas :) January 11th is always the week of or the week before the spring semester begins, so it's a good thing I didn't drink or enjoy parties in college, huh Dad?? Because I would've been shafted as far as celebrations go!! Close call! I mean seriously, from 2001-2005, everyone was too partied out from being home and was psuedo-focused on starting classes. But I don't have to worry about all that now. I can legally and responsibly enjoy an adult beverage with all my growed-up cronies (chronologically, at least). I've got some good ideas up my sleeve for this year. Twenty-seven, 27, will be a good one. I can feel it in my left knee.

And lastly, as the monkeymind comes to a close, I experienced my favorite moment this month on my sister's couch in OKC. Holding a sweet, warm bundle of blankets and deep breaths, I was told I can have full creative reign on the color of the bedroom I'll be living in come August (and an accepted gradschool application)!!!!! My sister "thinks a butter yellow would be nice, but it's totally up to [me] and [I] can do whatever [I] want". Brooke, I hear what you're saying... but what I REALLY hear you saying is "paint the room butter yellow". hahahahahahaha that is such an inside joke for 1-3 readers. Annnyyyywaay, I've decided on gold! (true gold. like the actual color of the medals I have from years of undisputed victory). It's of the "butter yellow" family, but toned down enough that I won't jump when I open my eyes in the morning. It goes with my bedspread and my new fave purchase, my throw pillow!



Really, that is all. I have a final to study for.

Peace be with you.