thing 1: create a blog

i don’t have a story. you know, something you’ve done that pops into your head and makes you smile, blush, sigh about a time or a person from long ago, or gives you goose bumps. oh, sure, i can relay other people’s stories, but i don’t have one really good story of my own -- and, seriously, like an incredible little black dress, every woman needs at least one good story. this has been a frequent topic between my friends because they all have stories. there’s the friend who got drunk and tried out a stripper pole. the friend who can tell countless stories about her time in california; taking off in a helicopter from coronado bay or telling tales about the sex clubs she wandered past in san francisco. one friend was told she and her husband would never be able to have children, so they spent a year planning a trip around the world and quit their jobs to go on this adventure. low and behold, while in prague, they learned they got pregnant while in italy. one of my favorite stories is when a friend went to alaska on a kayaking trip that ended up being more harrowing than i could ever imagine – and yet he would tell the events over and over again and laugh just as heartily as the first time. i think my bravest friends -- and the ones with the most fascinating stories -- are the ones who stepped away from their traditional 9 to 5 jobs and opted, instead, to follow their passions.

i’m not sure how exactly it is that i got to be almost 44 and not have a story. my guess is because i was never really encouraged to be adventurous. i went to school, played sports, and had after school and summer jobs. i was surrounded by family and knew i was loved, but it was drilled into my head at a very young age that i was not to embarrass my family – and, as far as i can recall, i never did. there were no high school exploits that warranted any sort of intervention. i simply never had a rebellious side or, if i did, i suppressed it. in college, the only two reprimands i ever received were when my roommate and i put a “for sale” sign in our dorm window and made margaritas on the lawn in front of our dorm. oh, sure, i went out drinking, had a fake id, got my heart broken, and did a handful of foolish things i'd like to forget, but never anything that equates to that one story i want to recall into my old age. i had opportunities, but, looking back, i did not seize them. i did not really stretch and go to a college that was out of my comfort zone. i did not apply for any semesters overseas. i did not run for any elective offices. i did not move into manhattan after college, which is something i wanted to do. (although, at a starting salary of $15,500 in publishing, i would have been be living in a studio apartment with six other people, rotating sleeping arrangements.) i could argue that i wasn’t ready, but, the flip side is to say, “ready for what”? while at the drop of a hat, i can tell my husband “i left all that i knew and loved to come across the country to be with you,” i don’t know that that’s my story (although, it is a good one).

i’ve been known to say on more than one occasion that i’d like to go back to high school and college as the person i am now. i’ve got more confidence. i am more comfortable in my own skin and in my abilities. i am happy with the person i am becoming. i can tell a joke (but, mainly to the under eight set), and i can laugh at myself. i cannot hold a tune, and i botch lyrics, but i can sing with heart – and when alcohol is involved, just try and stop me. so, with the approach of my 44th year, i have decided that it is time for my story. i have no idea what it will be, but i can count on the fact i will be enlisting my friends in these adventures. this year, i will try 44 new things – things i’ve never done before. these things don’t have to be crazy and death defying – just new things that will lead to new stories. i’ve never had a dirty martini, graduated from the driving range, tried zip lining, gone camping (real camping, as opposed to car camping with shower and bathroom, etc), climbed a 14er, snow shoed, been away for a weekend by myself, written anything for anyone else to read . . . i guess i am now down to 43 things . . .