Author Archives: carlieblissirwin

Update (Don’t You Forget About Me)

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I got some really good news yesterday.

And then I promptly stepped in a massive pile of dog poop five minutes later. I mean massive.

Was this an attempt by the cosmic forces of the universe to ground me? Perhaps.

As I sat on my front stoop for 20 minutes scraping excrement from the many crevices in the sole of my shoe with a sadly inefficient twig, I couldn’t help but think that the world works in mysterious ways. And also that one of my neighbors must be stowing a horse in their backyard because man, that was a massive poop.

Is this the culprit??

I’ll let you in on the good news later, I promise.

Also, I’m working on a post about our adventures this weekend at Oktoberfest in Hermann, Missouri: Antique stores, wine, sauerkraut, wine, Mizzou game, wine, beer, wine. We laughed, we cried. It was better than Cats.

So really, the point of this post is just to say “heeeyyy!” and make sure you don’t forget about me.

I’ll post again soon! A real post. I promise.

Until then, enjoy these totally random and hilarious search terms that WordPress tells me people have used to find my blog:

  • alabama fat football player
  • christina hendricks boobs
  • slutty glee
  • 80’s corduroy overalls
  • smoking baby
  • football players poop
  • moms bunions
  • who are spencer pratts parents
  • alien birth
  • i lurve you
  • saggy workout

Spanky

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Well folks, there’s a lot going on with me this week. Sadly, writing blog posts will probably not be one of them.

But I didn’t want to ignore you completely, so I decided to post this photo to tide you over and because I always have time for things that make me laugh.

Ok, I know, a photo of my lovely sister on a beach in South Padre Island is not funny. No Shannon, that was not meant to be an insult. You look beautiful.  But here’s the full photo:

I love this horse.

My sister posted this photo on Facebook last week, and I’ve looked at it about 10 times since then. I’m sure she appreciates me sharing it with all of you. (Hey, if you put on Facebook, it’s fair game!)

The best part? The name of Shannon’s radiant equine companion is… Spanky.

Spanky. That’s perfect.

And according to my brother-in-law’s Facebook comment, Spanky was “special.” Either that, or just in urgent need of the heimlich maneuver.

Kind of reminds me of another “special” someone in my life who enjoys inserting his tongue into otherwise perfectly decent photos:

Aww, love you Spanky!

I’m baking! I bake! I’m a baker!

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This past Sunday, I attempted something that I have never tried before, ever in my life.

I baked. Cupcakes. From (almost) scratch.

I know, right?!?

If you are well-acquainted with me and my lack of culinary skills, I’ll give you a second to pick yourself up off the floor.

I was inspired by this pumpkin cupcake recipe I saw on Apartment 34 and also by the mouth-watering confections often featured on Sweet Karoline and Pie in the Sky.

Also, since it’s fall (nevermind that it was an unseasonably warm 87 degrees that day – WTF, St. Louis??), I really really really wanted to make our apartment smell like pumpkins. And simply buying a pumpkin-scented candle is way too easy.

Since I was convinced that this venture would lead to confusion, frustration, personal injury, a catastrophic mess in my kitchen and ultimate failure, I thought I’d document the experience with my trusty camera for your enjoyment. I’m happy to say that, despite my lack of confidence, none of that horrible stuff happened! Except the personal injury. I’ll get to that later.

Of course I started off by making a list (my favorite!) of everything I needed to get at Whole Foods in order to accomplish this project.

Next, I made the trek to Whole Foods, a place I found to be chock-full of delicious, all-natural ingredients and about a hundred million people. But one thing it wasn’t full of was pumpkin puree.

I had a mini temper tantrum in my head and wasn’t completely polite to the worker who informed me that they were out of my key ingredient before heading to another grocery store. It was totally empty and excessively stocked with everything I needed. Which leads me to believe that beneath the floors of Whole Foods, there’s some sort of freakish sci-fi magnet that attracts food-seeking people.

Behold the makings of pumpkin cupcakes:

I’m glad I now have all these baking ingredients in the house – if a neighbor stops by for a cup of sugar, I will NOT be unprepared!

Gatsby came into the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about and looked at me as if to say, “This can’t be a good idea…”

I agreed, but forged ahead.

I used the chair in the corner of the kitchen as my command center, complete with my computer (which provided the recipe and my iTunes playlist), my blackberry (in case of emergencies), and water (it’s important to stay hydrated).

The first step was to sift together the flour, baking soda, baking powder (those are different?), blah, blah, blah, you get the point.

Thanks to Google, I now actually know what “sifting” means and I completed it victoriously!

I was also impressed at my foresight to pour the ingredients into the measuring cups over the sink. Otherwise my kitchen counter would have looked like this:

Next, I opened the pumpkin puree with our completely unnecessary but fun electric can opener.

It looked like nasty mushed up baby food.

Once I got my gag reflex under control, I mixed in the eggs and other ingredients and was dismayed to see that the concoction still looked completely gross.

I raised an eyebrow at Gatsby, who continued to watch from 5 feet below, and tried not to let his doubtful expression crush my spirit.

There was no turning back now.

I poured the batter into the cupcake holder thingy, and I was ready to BAKE!

23 minutes later, I reached into the oven to retrieve my little golden masterpieces. In all my excitement, it slipped my mind that ovens are hot, and I totally scalded the side of my arm.

I quickly barked at Gatsby to put on his earmuffs and unleashed a string of obscenities.

Actually, I kind of just said “FUUUUU….eeeee mmmm oooowww” or something like that. Pain makes you do weird things.

But look how well the cupcakes turned out!

Once they cooled, I got out the frosting.

I decided early on that I was NOT going to make maple cream cheese frosting from scratch, as the recipe suggested. Who do they think I am, Betty Crocker? Baby steps, people.

I promptly ate half of the frosting and frosted the cupcakes with the other half.

And then…some Reese’s Pieces for garnish. Because Reese’s Pieces are the greatest treat with a candy shell ever invented and they make everything approximately 10 times better.

I NOW PRESENT TO YOU THE FINAL RESULT!

TAAA-DAAAA!

Please, hold your applause. I can’t hear it and you look stupid.

So that’s the story of my first baking adventure! I’ll probably never do it again.

Oh, and if you’re wondering, they DO taste as good as they look!

Back to school

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I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking a lot about my elementary school days lately. Maybe because fall reminds me of the excitement of going back to school.

I loved this time of year because A) It meant we got to make the annual trip to Kids ‘R Us for a new fall/winter wardrobe, and B) I was a nerd who loved school.

Seriously, nothing thrilled me more than starting my day by hanging my plastic backpack up on my designated hook in the hallway and entering the classroom where the D.O.L. (Daily Oral Language) sentence was already up on the overhead projector, just waiting for me to delve in and correct it.

Seriously.

But D.O.L. isn’t the only thing I miss about my early educational years. So, I decided to make – you guessed it – a list!

Things I Miss About Elementary School:

1. Hot lunch. Hot lunch days happened only a few times each year and they were the BEST. Whether it was pizza, hot dogs or French toast sticks (which was really more like a hot brunch), I was always completely amped up to eat something other than a fruit roll-up and a peanut butter and chocolate chip sandwich. (That was my sandwich of choice, but my mom was always a little stingy with the chocolate chips.) Somehow, the consumption of hot food made the whole day seem special and exciting – there was a spark in the air, a spring in my step, and mostly likely after 12pm, a grease stain on my shirt.

2. Recess. Playing Red Rover, getting “chased” by boys, showing off my gymnastics moves, bouncing around on my sweet neon-colored Pogo Ball or Skip-It, playing four-square and “Hot Lava” on the playground (don’t let your feet touch the wood chips!), practicing our New Kids on the Block dance moves, double-dutch jump roping (ok, I may have just been a spectator for that one) – what’s not to love??

3. New seating charts. You never knew when it was going to happen, but when the teacher announced the implementation of a new seating chart, the classroom instantly began buzzing with excitement. Who you sat by could make or break your at-school social life. Being seated next to your best friend was like winning the lottery (with similar odds – my teachers weren’t dumb). Being seated next to the kid who picked his nose and wiped it on the bottom of his desk was pretty much the worst case scenario. But the best part was the few minutes before discovering your fate – pure adrenaline rush!

4. Room parents. My mom was a room parent. She was also the “Picture Lady.” And a hot lunch day volunteer. And my Brownie troop leader. She spent about as much time at my elementary school as I did. Believe it or not, I thought this made me pretty darn cool. Whenever she was in my classroom, I felt like I owned the place and could do whatever I wanted. My mom was there. Sadly for her, this mentality rapidly deteriorated as I got older. In 5th grade, I actually requested that she un-volunteer for the Outdoor Education overnight trip because I didn’t want my mom staying in the cabin with me and my friends. But then we got stuck in a cabin with our teacher – so that kind of backfired.

5. The President’s Challenge fitness testing. This was my chance to shine. I kicked some serious corduroy-clad butt in the 50-yard dash and I could hang off of that pull–up bar for minutes hours. Let me tell you something about me as a kid – I loved to show off. My class and the gym teacher were my audience and that smelly tile gym was my stage. I was pretty sure the President himself must have known who I was since I was awarded the official iron-on decal every year for my achievements. My only downfall? The sit-and-reach. That evil metal box of doom. I was lucky if I could push that stupid marker past my knees. In fact, I’m pretty sure that never happened.

Ahh, now I’m feeling all nostalgic. I better stop this before I get the urge to tight-roll my jeans and get out my old troll dolls and slap bracelets…

8 month progress report

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If you’ve been reading my posts for awhile, you know that the very loose premise of this blog is that I’m trying to enjoy and document what might be my last few childless years. According to my “life plan,” I’m getting pregnant at 30, which means I only have a couple years to start liking babies and come to terms with the gruesome realities of pregnancy.

I know that most of what I post on this blog is actually not baby-related. It’s a loose premise, remember?

Also, I’m naturally inclined to write about the things that are currently on my mind. Believe it or not, I’m pretty much never thinking about babies.

I think about ways that I can get Gatsby to wear a little dog sweater about 20 times more often than I think about babies, if that gives you any indication of what is presently concerning me. (He freezes up and won’t move as soon as I put a sweater on him, making it impossible to take him for walks once the temperature dips below 50 degrees! He doesn’t understand it’s for his own good – stubborn (adorable) little bastard.)

But even though babies are on my mind about as much as the MLB playoffs (read: 0% of the time), I thought I would give you an update on my progress as far as warming up to the idea of having a kid goes.

If the end goal is being ready to have a baby, I have made approximately ZERO progress since I first started this blog.

In fact, I may have even regressed in the other direction and am now even less ready to get pregnant than I was 8 months ago.

This is not how I predicted or hoped this would go. I do want kids, after all. I just want them later.

I thought that once some of my friends got pregnant and had babies, I would see how wonderful it is and would want to have one too. So far, this hasn’t happened.

I will say that I’ve recently developed a fondness for the spawns of my friends. I’m even finding them to be slightly cute. I’m starting to appreciate how cool it is to hang out with little humans that were created by people I love and witness my friends assuming the role of “mommy.” I’m also really starting to appreciate the fact that I’m not them.

More and more, I’m enjoying the freedoms of a childless life. I’m enjoying going on weekend trips, hanging out at wine bars for extended periods of time, and just being married. Let’s face it – it’s pretty awesome NOT having stretch marks, NOT breast feeding, NOT smelling like poop and spit-up and NOT spending money on things that keep a baby alive.

If things continue at this rate, maybe 30 won’t be the magic age when I’m willing to surrender my uterus and my life to a baby after all.

NOTE TO MY EGGS: I know you’re going to start dying soon, but I can’t bring myself to put you to good use while I’m still not able to control my gag reflex at the sight of a drooling child with baby food up its nose. Hang in there, ladies.

Lite rock: A confession

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I grew up listening to lite rock. NOT by choice. Let’s make that clear.

It was just that my mom happened to be a suburban 30-something-year-old woman whose preferred method of transportation was a Dodge minivan with Lite fm 93.9 firmly holding its spot on radio preset button #1.

She also wore shirts adorned with masterfully self-applied puffy paint and iron-on decals. You know the type. And if you grew up in the 80s/90s that type was probably your mom also.

It wasn’t until I reached my tween years that I discovered there were other kinds of music out there besides synthesized pop and the strained crooning produced by the vocal chords of Kenny Loggins and the like.

That’s when I swore off lite rock and began storing my Michael Bolton tape in the back of my sock drawer.

But then a funny thing happened.

I’m a station surfer when I drive, so whenever a bad song comes on, I hit the seek button until I find something I like. A few years ago, I noticed an alarming pattern associated with this behavior.

Inexplicably, I found myself pausing upon hearing the familiar chords of a Chicago or REO Speedwagon song.

What?!? Why?!? I don’t even LIKE that music!

Or do I…?

Ok, ok, I DO. But only in small doses.

I don’t know if I actually enjoy the music or if it’s just the nostalgia of hearing the soundtrack to my childhood (I’m inclined the believe the latter), but I will publicly admit that I don’t completely dislike lite rock.

So since I posted a list of my favorite oldies to welcome summer a few months back, I decided to compile a list of my favorite lite rock songs to welcome fall. Even though lite rock really has nothing to do with fall. As previous posts have indicated, I clearly have no qualms about making extremely loose connections and exploiting them on this blog.

So here’s the list:

  1. Soldier of Love – Donny Osmond
  2. The Heart of the Matter – Don Henley
  3. Sara Smile – Hall & Oates
  4. Keep On Loving You – REO Speedwagon
  5. You’re the Inspiration – Chicago
  6. The Longest Time – Billy Joel
  7. Missing You – John Waite
  8. Against All Odds – Phil Collins
  9. At This Moment – Billy Vera & The Beaters
  10. I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues – Elton John
  11. Don’t Forget Me (When I’m Gone) – Glass Tiger
  12. Stuck With You – Huey Lewis & The News
  13. No One Is To Blame – Howard Jones
  14. Walking on Broken Glass – Annie Lennox
  15.  Higher Love – Steve Winwood

What are YOUR favorites? And don’t act like you’re too cool for lite rock…

Britney Spears, high school and babies

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I know the title of this post is strange. But if you think that Britney Spears, high school and babies are three random things that are totally unrelated, then you would be wrong.

Here’s my explanation summed up in one sentence because I’m not feeling overly verbose today:

The Britney Spears episode of Glee last night was AWESOME, Britney was super popular when I was in high school, and I just had my high school reunion last weekend where I saw a lot of old friends who now have babies.

You see? It’s all very logical.

And to continue on this streak of organized mental clarity, I am now going to break that sentence down into three parts and expound upon each section. Kind of like a nice little five paragraph essay. Which I wrote a lot of in high school. Another logical connection!

PART 1: The Britney Spears episode of Glee last night was AWESOME.

This is pretty self-explanatory. If you don’t watch Glee or missed the episode, I am so sorry. I feel bad for you like I felt bad for Lloyd and Harry at the end of Dumb & Dumber when they sent the bus full of bikini models toward town to find two oil boys that could have been them if they were smarter. But then of course they’d have to change the title of the movie. Anyway… you poor sap.

With the combination of Britney songs, Brittany’s awesome dancing, and references to Lady Bird Johnson’s tramp stamp and Kids Incorporated, I’d have to say last night’s episode might very well be the most entertaining hour of TV I’ve ever watched. All of that combined with television legend John Stamos (yes, I said that) had me entranced in a daze of happiness by the end of the show, muttering to myself “Is this real life…?” (Again, I feel bad for you if you didn’t see the show, because you totally didn’t get that reference.)

PART 2: Britney was super popular when I was in high school.

I was a sophomore in high school when Hit Me Baby One More Time hit the radio, maybe a few too many times (I did get a little sick of it). But pop culture would never be the same. And thus began a period in my life when Britney dance moves were routinely mimicked at Homecoming and Turn-A-Bout dances and her songs were included on every mix tape I made (yes, I was making mix tapes).

So you can understand why I was a little bit depressed when she became a vicious, bald, umbrella-wielding psychopath a few years ago.

I loved the Britney Spears of 1999. I feared the Britney Spears of 2007. And I’m on the fence about the Britney Spears of 2010. She may have made a somewhat successful comeback, and she looked decent on Glee, but she’s seriously not the same. If she was, she would have been singing and dancing along with the cast and had more than three empty lines on the show. Now she’s sort of just a puppet for her “brand” – the passion and talent are gone.

PART 3: I just had my high school reunion last weekend where I saw a lot of old friends who now have babies.

Let’s move on to something a bit happier, shall we? If you read my last post, I’m sure you were wondering how my 10 year high school reunion went. And if you weren’t, you’re going to find out anyway.

It was so much fun!

The festivities started with the Homecoming football game on Friday night (where they had fireworks – seems the booster club has become a bit more profitable since I was there!), and ended with me dancing at a bar in Chicago until 2 am with old friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen in years. And everyone had babies. But not at the bar. (I was sort of hoping to be able to use Reese Witherspoon’s “You have a baby! At a BAR” line from Sweet Home Alabama, but alas…)

And you know what was weird? Besides the fact that at least three of the babies were named Tyler? (Is it really that common of a name??)

Everyone was pretty much the same. Most people looked and acted exactly the same, except maybe a teensy bit more mature.

In conclusion (that’s how I always ended my five paragraph essays), I love Glee, and even though Britney Spears has changed (in a bad way) since high school, it seems that most people haven’t. In a good way.

Funny how easy it is to hang out with the people you grew up with, even if it’s been years since the last time you talked. I guess when we spent every waking hour together in high school, we got to know each other pretty well. And that will never change.

A conversation with High School Me

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It’s official. I’ve finally become old enough to attend events that exist based on the fact that I am not all that young anymore.

Namely, my high school reunion. Which happens to be this weekend.

It turns out that my high school graduation happened TEN YEARS AGO. At that time, 10 years amounted to more than half of my life. Ten years seemed like pretty much the longest period of time possible. In the year 2000, 2010 seemed so far away it might not ever even happen, as far as I was concerned.

And yet here we are.

Needless to say, I (and probably everyone I went to high school with) have changed a lot since I dodged football players and mammoth backpacks graced the halls of Wheaton North High School.

It would be pretty interesting and sadly impossible to go back and have a conversation with an 18-year-old Carlie Bliss (even my name has changed!). But if I COULD, it would probably go something like this:

Present Me: Hey Carlie! It’s me – you! Well, you 10 years in the future. How’s it going?

High School Me: Whoa. Wow, I look different 10 years from now!

PM: Yeah, let’s just say that Cetaphil face wash and eyebrow waxing were major game changers for us.

HSM: Nice! Except what’s with those dorky-looking jeans?

PM: Oh, they’re called skinny jeans, for obvious reasons. Everyone’s wearing them in 2010.

HSM: They look uncomfortable.

PM: They kind of are. Enjoy the baggy cargo pants and overalls while you can, kid.

HSM: So you’re me 10 years from now? How’s life in L.A. as a film director??

PM: Umm…great. Just great.

HSM: Cool. And you survived college?

PM: Survived? High School Me, let me tell you something. You think high school is great, but just wait until college. Yes, you’ll be homesick for about 1.5 hours, but it’s all pure awesomeness from there on out. In fact, college is so great that you’re going to become mildly depressed and feel like the best part of your life is over once you graduate.

HSM: Oh. But that’s not true, right? There will still be better things ahead in the future?

PM: Uh…sure. Yeah. For sure.

HSM: You’re not very convincing.

PM: So! Refresh my memory – how are things in high school?

HSM: Everything is great! Yesterday, Cynthia, Stacey and I went to 7-Eleven to get Slurpees after school and then we drove to Danada in Cynthia’s convertible with the top down even though it was only 60 degrees to go to Starbucks and see if there were any hot South boys riding around in Jeeps that we could smile and giggle at but not talk to. You know, the usual.

PM: Ahh yes. Those were the days.

HSM: Yeah and there’s a home football game tonight and Alisa is afraid that John is going to ask her to Homecoming because she wrote in a note to me that was masterfully folded into an octagon and decorated with 3 highlighter colors that Peter told Emilie and Shannon that John told Tony that he wanted to ask her. But she really wants to go with Mike.

PM: Drama. Any plans for after the game?

HSM: I’m sure we’ll go to Chili’s and just order water and chips and queso. Then Sarah said something about TPing the guys’ houses and putting Vaseline on their car handles, but we might just end up in Cynthia’s basement and watch Clueless and order Papa John’s breadsticks with extra garlic sauce or drive around and see who we run into.

PM: Oh yeah, you guys don’t have cell phones do you?

HSM: Huh? Well, Stacey has a car phone…?

PM: Not the same thing.

HSM: So if you’re from 2010, I guess our 10 year reunion is coming up?

PM: Yep, they sent out the Facebook invite awhile ago and it looks like it should be a good turnout.

HSM: What’s Facebook?

PM: Nevermind. Well, it was good to see you, High School Me.

HSM: Good to see you too! I’m glad you haven’t developed Mom’s bunion or varicose veins yet.

PM: You and me both!

HSM: Hey, if you see Sarah at the reunion, tell her I still want my Abercrombie shirt back. You know, the one that says ABERCROMBIE across the chest in huge letters.

PM: Don’t all your Abercrombie shirts say that?

HSM: Umm…yeah.

PM: Oh, one more thing. There may come a time in the future when you consider drinking three Mega Margaritas over the course of two and a half hours at this Mexican place called Cesar’s in Chicago. DON’T DO IT.

HSM: Ok. I’m totally having a Back to the Future moment right now.

PM: I still love that movie!

HSM: How could you not??

PM: “Where you’re going, you don’t need roads!”

HSM: Really??

PM: Uh, no. We still have roads in the future. And cars. Transportation hasn’t really changed much.

HSM: Oh. Ok. See ya!

PM: Bye, High School Me! I’m kind of jealous of you right now. Well…no. Actually, I’m not. Not at all.

Iowa you big time

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Couldn’t resist the pun. I think I might have made it up! Or have you heard that one before…? I’m also a big fan of Idaho? No YOU-da-ho! But that’s completely irrelevent to this post.

I just realized that I took a bunch of pictures at my cousin’s wedding in Iowa over Labor Day weekend just so I could put them up on my blog, and I completely forgot to do that! So I owe you some pics. Or Iowa you, as I like to say.

Ok, I’ll stop.

Here’s a pre-ceremony shot in the church. The wedding and reception were in Farnhamville, Iowa. We stayed in Fort Dodge, which incidentally is home to a lovely Applebee’s where men walk around sporting ties with illustrations of Jesus on them under the words “Jesus Saves” in huge white letters. Yep.

This is Will and my bro-in-law Mark. It appears that Will is tenderly stroking Mark’s shoulder with his finger while his other hand clutches my purse. This may or may not be an illusion. I’ll let you decide. But know this: when these two are together, things get weird.

Like my shoes? They had me on the verge of tears by the end of the night, but I got a lot of compliments on them and that’s really what’s important, right? Ask me again when I’m wearing orthopedic shoes at the age of 40, but right now I have no regrets.

The bride was beautiful and the groom was my cousin.

Ha, just kidding Ben, you looked pretty good too!

Here they are leaving the church and trying to not catch on fire due to some of us who may or may not have tried to light several sparklers at once creating large fireballs and momentary terror. I’m guessing the experience of running through flames and trying to avoid smoke inhalation brought these two even closer together. You’re welcome, guys.

After the ceremony, they rode off into the ominous underbelly of a violent storm. On a tractor. Just kidding – it didn’t even rain on them, I just like to bring the drama. I’m serious about the tractor, though. It was Iowa, so it was awesome.

The decorations at the reception were super cute. Leave it to my family to turn them into some sort of competitve sport. Approximately 1 hour (and several drinks) after this picture was taken, we were having a table-wide hard core grudge match, the object of which was to see how many of those little sparkly things we could throw into various people’s wine glasses. Let me tell you, there were some great shots. Some of us delivered under pressure. Some of us nearly choked on the sparkly plastic things that we didn’t realize were in our wine glasses afterwards. It was great.

Once that the whole “getting married” thing was over, my cousin Ben set his sights on his next lifetime achievement: drinking that ginormous beer.

Just to prove we were in Iowa, we had to get gratuitous shots of cornfields and countryside.

And what’s a wedding without champagne?

Seriously, what is a wedding without champagne? NOT a wedding, in my opinion. Weddings = love, and I love champagne. It makes sense.

This is my favorite shot of the night. I love the array of colorful dresses and the flash of light. It happened completely by accident, but I’ll take it.

Here’s when the night got interesting:

I learned one thing about that Enrique Iglesias song “Baby I Like It” – my dad really likes it.

It was an awesome wedding. The entire weekend was a blast. Congrats Ben and Stephanie!!

FAIL and repeat

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Remember when you were little and someone asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up, and you matter-of-factly replied that you wanted to be Jem (she’s truly outrageous!) or a lawyer?

Or was that just me?

Anyway, it recently occurred to me that through the process of growing up and discovering my strengths and special talents, I failed miserably at almost everything I tried.

First, there was gymnastics. At the tender age of five, I learned how to execute a back walk-over (do a back-bend, then kick your legs over and stand up – a very technical move). It was then that I realized my fate was to become an Olympic gymnast.

Leotards were totally “in” in the 80’s and my hair looked cute in a ponytail. I was sold. It was no matter that I had the flexibility of an especially stubborn piece of plywood or that I was actually enrolled in tumbling-only classes because the beam and the high bar scared me.

The closest I ever got to Olympic stardom was getting Betty Okino’s autograph when she made an appearance in Wheaton, and you probably don’t even know who that is. In 7th grade I fractured my elbow doing a back flip-flop and that was the end of that.

FAIL.

Next, there was acting! As a kid, I required an audience for pretty much anything I did. I’m the first born and my little sister was especially tiny and cute, so I strived to be annoying and flamboyant and yell out “Hey look at me!” as much as possible, just to make sure no one forgot that I existed.

Give 9-year-old me a stage and bright lights and I nearly peed my pants from the excitement of all that attention. On ME.

Sadly, as hard as I tried, as much as I honed my performance skills with home productions of Aladdin, The Little Mermaid and the nativity scene (I’m not sure it was even Christmas when I came up with that one, but we had a light blue sheet that was just screaming to be made into Mary’s cloak), it turns out that I didn’t have an ounce of acting talent in my still unflexible body.

In park district plays (where everyone got a part), I scored roles that included a nameless munchkin, Card Soldier #2, and one of Snow White’s dwarves. When I tried out for the middle school play in 6th grade and didn’t even get in the ensemble, I got the hint.

FAIL. Again.

And then there was the guitar. In high school, I was dying to be that cool folksy girl who could win everyone over with her stylings on the acoustic guitar. After all, I boasted an impressive collection of hemp necklaces and most of my clothes came from resale shops, so a guitar just went with the territory.

My ever-encouraging parents (who were probably thinking at this point “She has to be good at something, right?”) agreed to buy me a guitar for my birthday and pay for lessons.

I quit after a few classes, partly because my teacher literally could not stop laughing at me. Jerk.

Too bad knowing a few chords from Free Fallin’ and Sweet Home Alabama does not a rockstar make.

FAIL, redux.

In college, I decided that I must be good at photography. I had no basis for this decision, but I was so convincing that my parents humored me (again) and bought me a very nice SLR camera. I proceeded to take a photography class one semester and completely proved myself wrong. I walked away from that class with only two decent photos, one of which was a double exposure that was pretty much an accident.

FAIL times four.

My lofty ambitions in my formative years not only helped to shrink my parents’ bank account, but also revealed to me the multitude of talents that I do NOT possess.

Lucky for me (and my self esteem), I always had writing. No matter what my current obsession was or who I was trying to force myself to be, I was always writing, no matter what. It wasn’t like my other “talents,” where I decided I needed to become good at something – writing just always happened. I couldn’t not do it.

I’m not saying I’m some writing whiz or something like that , but I guess it just makes sense that of all the talents I’ve tried to cultivate in myself, the only one I’ve had any degree of success in is the one thing that comes the easiest.

It’s also really convenient.

So I’ll stick with writing for now (mostly because it’s the only way I’m capable of effectively expressing myself and if I suddenly stop doing it, I might explode), but I don’t regret building my long list of failed talents.

After all, I now have a dusty guitar, a bunch of really uninteresting black and white photos, and some very embarrassing home videos to show for it. And I’m ok with that.