Final Tally: 60 in 1001

Well, it's over -- 1001 days in which to accomplish 101 things came to a close on Nov. 11, and I managed to plow just more than halfway through the list.

It was an interesting experiment. Much of my list was unattainable, unless I'd come into some money or properly planned things in advance. But I enjoy taking a look at the list now and seeing glimpses of who I was then -- what my idea of romance was, how much travel was a priority, which items reflect the things that just happened to be in front of my face at that time -- and how I'm really different in some respects and the same in others.

So let's take a gander at the damage. On their own clear merits I managed to finish 56 items out of the 101, but there are a few more that I think I can cross off in spirit, so let's tackle those first.

9. Write an original work of fiction. This can be a screenplay (not likely), a spec script (slightly more likely), or a prose story of any length (as long as I consider it satisfactorily complete, then it counts). The point of this item was to get me writing something either for myself or for publication -- spec script and screenplay were really only on there to give me more options; generally speaking I have never, ever wanted to write either of those. But when I wrote this list, GFY had only existed for four months or so, and wasn't really anything more than a fun and unexpected side gig. I never dreamed it would yield what it has.Jess and I got the book deal and our baby hits the world on February 5, which I think more than fulfills the spirit of No. 9 up there even if it doesn't count as fiction.

27. Spend the first weekend of the NCAA Tournament in Las Vegas. I spent the second week there, with my bachelorette party. Sort of counts. This note represented decadence to me -- the very idea that I could run off to a sports book and watch all the games all day, with not a care in the world. Well, last season, I got my first NCAA Tourney as a self-employed person, and watching it at home was every bit as satisfying. Doubly so because it was free.

43. Take my finished needlepoint canvas, which has been done for at least a year and a half, and get it made into a picture frame. Oooh, wait, this one I actually have done -- well, it's in progress, anyway. My mother's going to take it to her needlepoint people in Florida, and the canvas is winging its way to her now.

60. Bench press my body weight, either with a free barbell or on a machine -- but probably the latter, because I am a wuss and the other scares me because if I don't have a spotter I will probably drop it on my chest, and then I'm an instant Lifetime Television For Women cautionary tale. I have no idea how hard this will or won't be, either. This is a completely uneducated goal. This was one of my favorite stupid items. Because it begs repeating: SERIOUSLY, what was I smoking? But I realized that, although it is a TOTALLY different skill from being able to bench-press your body weight, I can maybe cross this off. Because since I made this list I have learned to climb up a stripper pole and, clinging only with my arms, release my legs and flip myself upside down and slide to the ground. Which is WAY MORE FUN than free weights, and also something I'm a lot prouder of being able to do. So let's go with this as another one I completed in spirit if not in letter.

That puts us at 60 items complete. Or, 0.05 things per day. And considering that there was a time I wasn't sure if I'd get up to 40, that's not too shabby at all. Well, unless I keep it in decimal terms. Five things every 100 days sounds a tiny bit better.

Okay, now let's take a gander at what I couldn't do.

3. Exit the locker room at Notre Dame Stadium, smack the historic "Play Like A Champion Today" sign in the stairwell on the way down to the field, then run out of the tunnel and straight for the opposite end zone. If I were to die one second after completing this, then I'd die happy. That's how much it means to me. Dan, bless him, tried to make this happen for me when we all went back for the UCLA-ND game last year, but his contact was out of town and he couldn't get us inside. I love him for trying. And hey, Dan, maybe someday we can do it together -- it wouldn't mean as much if you're not running there with me.

7. Take a wine-tasting trip, either up in Santa Barbara or -- better -- in the Napa or Sonoma valleys. Hmm. Well, I like wine. And I like the idea of getting away with Kevin. This one might end up on my new list as well.

8. Run a half-marathon. [See? I'm realistic. Ish.] And yet, apparently not, since this didn't happen. At this time I had run some 10k races and was thinking I could push it, but my knee twinges now when I run much further than three miles. I have to learn to be okay with my physical limits; this one isn't something I should probably push. And honestly, I'm perfectly content with the three miles I can do now that I never used to be able to stitch together. Baby steps.

11. Take a UCLA Extension course, or a class of its equal, pertaining to some form of creative writing and helping me unlock some captive ideas. Ever since I put this on my list, in the name of creative betterment, I have groaned upon re-reading it. The intent was to push myself, but really, I don't want to take a class again if I can avoid it. No desire whatsoever.

13. Take a purely romantic vacation. I couldn't ever figure out this one -- I guess maybe going away for a weekend with Kevin where we had nothing to do but each other, so to speak, would've counted. But we tend to plan our holidays around wanting to see a new part of the world, or celebrate a milestone, neither of which technically qualify as achieving this. Also, on our anniversary trip, I barfed in a broom closet, so even if that DID count I'm not sure it ended on a purely romantic note -- as hard as it is to believe, the vomiting didn't really get him feeling all warm and snuggly later that night. Although he did feed me French fries, drunk-text my sister when I had the hiccups because her friends always do that to me when she gets them, and kill the largest spider with which I have ever shared any space. If that's not the stuff of a romantic hero, I don't know what is.

14. Stay in the Bellagio on the Las Vegas strip and treat myself like a queen there, even if it's just for one night. Since the regular rooms at the Bellagio don't seem to be unique enough for the price, I'd have to really pony up cash and in Vegas that's just hard if you also want to gamble and not cry. Plus, I don't go to Vegas that often any more, and when I do, hopefully I will be with my Dad again, and he's in tight with the Venetian people so that's where we'd stay. What can I say? The guy knows his way around a craps table.

16. Go to Budapest. Still aching to do this one. Kevin and I almost snapped up tickets to join Jen and Catherine there over New Year's, but now it's a good thing we didn't -- between Kevin starting a new job and our hope that we'll see Julie and Colin back around that time, it wouldn't have been a superb time to be gallivanting around the globe.

17. Visit at least five museums in the Los Angeles area to which I've never been. [One down: April 2005; two down June 2005] I guess this one is 2/5 complete... but I'll be big enough not to count that silly fraction, because that's almost as pathetic as me trying to cross off that other stuff up there. It's sort of egregious that I didn't manage to achieve this, but I did at least repeat the two museums I went to, so it's not like I've been totally culturally deprived. Also, we went to a ton of museums in China. So take THAT, Number 17!

20. Go to the beach in the LA area (to date, I've only been once). No, thank you. I put that on there in an effort to try to appreciate the iconic thing LA offers aside from a chance to wait tables while you wait to be discovered, but honestly, I don't like the beach. Or, I should say, I don't like it as part of my regular life. The beach is a place I go on holiday, when I get on a plane first and get off someplace that feels free, without any echoes of the stresses I left behind at my desk. I get no pleasure out of the idea of just randomly heading to the beach to read my Glamour one fair Saturday. All the sunscreen and the sand and the having to wear a bathing suit... I'd rather sit in the hot tub, or just keep my clothes on and do something else. So really, I never had the desire to knock this one off and I suspect I never will.

21. Play in a poker tournament. // 22. Win a poker tournament. I came in third in one... on my computer. Which so doesn't count. But, like with so many things, this was more a reflection of the fact that Carrie was just getting into poker and we did a rollicking poker night and it all seemed sort of fun, and I'd discovered it on my Hoyle Casino program, so hey, WHY NOT GAMBLE REAL MONEY IN A CRAZY ONLINE SITUATION AGAINST PEOPLE WHO KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING WAY BETTER THAN I DO? Great idea!

23. Take a cooking class. I still might like to do this, but I think my romantic vision of a cooking class is a lot more hands-on than a lot of the affordable ones are. I don't really want to learn by watching. I want to learn by doing. But a better step for me would just be cooking more, as a way of teaching myself.

29. Get a massage. I've never had one and I bet they're really lovely. Don't think I'll do this either, as it turns out I don't love people rubbing up all over me. My facialist, who is lovely, gives a shoulder massage while the hot steam opens up all my pores like flowers, and it actually makes me tenser. So I think I'll let Kevin take care of alleviating my stress knots.

30. See the Grand Canyon. I forget who it was who told me, "Forget it; it's so boring. It sucks." I laughed, though. Because ultimately I would still really like to see it, and this one's fairly feasible. If we'd gotten our acts together we might've been able to pull this one off, but I kept forgetting it was on there.

31. Build a snowman. DYING to do this one. Oh, snow. Oh, sweet winter. How I miss thee.

33. Learn how to throw a football -- and properly, with a nice spiral, not just heaved through the air with no spin or, worse, some bizarre end-over-end rotation. If I write about the sport I should bloody well figure out how to hurl the rock. I meant to make Michael and Doug and Kevin -- because apparently I assume all dudes are born knowing how to do this properly -- teach me at the ND-UCLA tailgate this past fall, but of course, we forgot to bring a ball. I could make Kevin teach me at home, but learning at an actual football game seemed a lot more fun to me. Of course, I quit the football writing because it was too time-consuming, so it no longer seems as egregious to me that I have never been able to throw a spiral (I throw it and it just... goes straight. Doesn't rotate at ALL. It's so eerie).

34. Golf 18 holes. First I need to go golf nine again. It's been a year and a few months since I last played at a pitch-and-putt, and that's not exactly the way to get good enough to play through it twice.

36. Re-read my sister's thesis. I still want to do this, and do it before she comes home. It's another one I kept forgetting was on my list because I would focus instead on laughing at the huge and unattainable items. The volume is sitting, bound, in my bookshelf. Maybe I'll read that next, actually.

38. Eat dinner at Sushi Roku. I put this on there figuring that expensive sushi would be the kind of sushi that got me into it. But I would so much rather spend this kind of money on meat. SO MUCH. I just don't care for sushi -- it's largely a textural thing, although I can also find a fishy taste in pretty much anything you hand me if I concentrate hard enough on it -- and I am not at all sorry I never did this.

39. Learn to knit. Maybe when I have kids, Jen and Catherine will teach me to knit them booties. In the meantime, it'd be better if I just finished my damn needlepoint.

50. Go on an Alaska cruise. Oh, someday, you will be mine. YOU WILL BE MINE. Kevin's dad did go in June, though. I would try to count it vicariously, but a) that's sad, and b) I REALLY want to do this myself, so no excuses.

51. Hit some Saturday morning garage and estate sales in swanky neighborhoods, in search of embarrassingly fantastic deals. Apparently, instead I decided to devote my Saturday mornings to pole class. I'm rather happy with how it worked out, so no regrets that I swing from a chrome bar when I could be picking through someone's leftover crap.

52. Buy a guitar. // 53. Learn to play it. And for the record, I have to be able to play it decently; I can't check this one off just because I learned a chord. When I was in high school I was competent enough to play the background to "Proud Mary," but that's as far as I ever got and it's all gone through my sieve-like memory by now. Yeah, yeah. Since my piano wasn't portable, I wanted music in my life, and thought this would be a perfect way to get it. But, bless my parents, Joanna -- my piano, so named for the cockney rhyming slang -- came home to me and I get to play her whenever I like, and that void is now perfectly full. No need to strum when I can tickle my girl's ivories. ... Wait, that sounded filthy.

54. Spend a chilly/rainy morning in bed with Kevin, drinking hot chocolate and reading the paper and generally just cuddling and being lazy but cozy. Never did this. And not just because I hate the LA newspapers, although that's part of it also; we don't subscribe and I would rather just soak up the news on the Washington Post site than pay for an out-of-town paper to come to my doorstep. (Sorry, newspaper industry.) Honestly, this was a picture of a romantic morning that existed in my head, left over from another relationship. Not that I was trying to impose those memories on my 11-month-old relationship with Kevin, and not that I ever did exactly this with someone else. But at that point Kevin and I, though solid, hadn't figured out what our romantic mornings were beyond me sleeping over at his place and him making us breakfast. Which was great, but it wasn't as cuddly and cozy and safe as what I was craving. Now, though, our greatest joys sometimes just come from the simple fact of getting to sleep in a little together on the same day, when you crack your eyes open around 8:30 or 9 and then spend the next hour in that contented sliver of consciousness between dreaming and awake, aware of the person next to you and unable to imagine committing to getting up and out of bed and leaving the perfect cocoon of their body and the bedsheets. And then we yawn and sit up a tad and watch the first half of the morning NFL games while we prop up our heads on multiple pillows, because that, at heart, is who we are. That's our everyday romance, and that's what I will yearn for in place of hot chocolate and the newspaper. I hate newsprint on my fingers anyway; imagine how I'd be miserable if it got all over my duvet cover.

58. Attend opening day at Santa Anita. Meh. Didn't do it, and probably won't. The girls and I did dollar-beer, dollar-dogs night at Hollywood Park, and that was fun enough for me, plus it was nice and close. I love racing, but I am a spoiled brat who grew up on the tracks in England, so for the most part I don't like going as much in the US because I miss the bookies and the lovely green courses and the jockeys I know. I can't help it. It's like how if you had the Broadway cast recording of Les Miserables you generally don't dig the original London recording nearly as much, and vice versa. It's just what you know, and therefore what you responded to first.

62. Go on another vacation with Julie. Boo. Didn't really get to do this. But I'm hoping that my sisters and my mother and I can all get together for a girls' weekend after she gets back from Iraq -- at some undetermined time -- so I haven't lost hope that I'll do it someday even if it wasn't in time to cross it off this list.

63. Buy a pot-pourri dish. I dried and saved the petals from the roses Kevin sent after our New York weekend, and I want to put them in something pretty or funky. In the end, I had to pitch the dried petals before I was able to get a dish for them. I did keep the card, though. I'll never get rid of that. Incidentally, I keep it and a couple other florist cards and bits and pieces from Kevin in a beautiful box that Alan bought me when he was in the Middle East. Kind of my way of taking back the box (no double entendre intended), because it's a great piece and I love it, but I wanted to make it mean something other than what it did at the time. Now it does.

65. Go on a ski trip in Europe. Sigh. If only.

67. See a Padres game in San Diego's new baseball park. Sounded like a nice idea, but I don't particularly enjoy San Diego and I'm not a huge baseball fan, so I don't plan to put this back on the docket.

68. Finish my travelogue from the summer of 2003, because I swore to myself I would and I don't want the memories to fade first. Alas. Well, I could probably dredge them up, and I still have my journal from that time. But I realized that the trip, and the writing, were so much about working through Alan and how we ended, and all the related drama. It was an escape I desperately needed to clear my head, some introspection and growth I could never place a value on because it's beyond measure, and thoughts and feelings I needed to put to paper so that I could put the heartache to bed. It felt weird to dig it up and finish it as just a dry old account of Vienna and Rome and the villa, and doubly strange to try and put myself in the emotional place I occupied then just for the sake of finishing a story. A story whose ending I know, and that's all that matters. Maybe someday I'll write it from the perspective I have now; that could be fun for me. We'll see. But I wrote what I needed to write, and the fact that I stopped documenting it mostly means that I stopped dwelling and started moving forward.

70. Go Christmas caroling. I don't even know if anyone does this any more. I miss our old caroling parties we'd go to at the Dormans -- family friends -- where I'd play the recorder and Mr. Dorman would play his ukelele and we'd all sing and drink cider. Ah, the warm days of a cold Christmas season.

71. Road-trip to the aquarium in Monterrey. See, the thing is... sometimes I think this would be cool. And then sometimes I remember that I REALLY hate fish. Like, really.

77. Have a dartboard in my house. SO CLOSE. All we need is an appropriate wall. It's going to have to wait until Kevin redoes the garage.

80. Ride a bike. I haven't done this since I was thirteen, maybe fourteen, and I feel like it would be fun. But also scary, since I'm afraid going too fast and losing control and falling. I'm such a baby. I think I am probably wrong about this being fun for me. Which is the reason that, in three years, I never once even considered hopping on Kevin's bike just to complete it in a cursory manner. See... bike seats hurt. And padded bike shorts don't help me.

81. Be less of a baby. I am fairly certain this will NEVER, EVER HAPPEN. I mean, see above re: padded bike shorts not being a brilliant enough invention to protect my poor delicate loins. Please.

83. See The Nutcracker again. Hmm. We'll see. Maybe if I have a kid.

90. Parasail. I did it once when I was six, but I'd appreciate it differently now. We almost did this in Tahiti, but it turns out we just wanted to paddle around and swim with sharks and snorkel -- all of which is what reminded me how much I hate fish; I actually SHRIEKED when a achool of tiny but fat red fish swarmed me and one of the little bastards leapt out of the water and flapped its stupid ugly mouth at the drawstring on my boy-shorts bikini, and the fish wrangler actually GAPED AT ME, like, "Lady, there are sharks coming up, are you going to pass out on me?" I of course did not know about the sharks. But when the annoying 12-year old boy did it without crying, I realized I could not be bested by him and clutched Kevin's arm while we went through the sharky part. And then I wanted to do it again. Because the sharks DID NOT SNAP AT MY DRAWSTRING. Take a note, stupid red fish.

92. Learn to operate a sewing machine. Do I even KNOW anyone with a sewing machine?

94. Go to The Argyle on Sunset for martinis and bleu-cheese fries. The Argyle doesn't exist any more, so I couldn't have achieved this, actually. Also, I just lied. They didn't demolish it or anything; they just reopened under a new name and probably don't have those fries any more.

96. Throw a beach barbecue. We tried this one but it didn't work. This is the most LIKELY way to get me to hang out on LA sand, though, so maybe we'll squeeze this one in again. But I'd rather just have one in our yard. Is that wrong?

101. Watch all movies on the AFI's Top 100 list that I haven’t already seen -- even the ones I don't really want to see, unless they include eye tomfoolery. Well, I made it through 19 of the 70. That is sad. But it became like homework to me, and I was never much for doing the assigned reading. I STILL have dreams that all center around me not having done any of the assigned reading. Also... I've seen bits of West Side Story, and I don't want to watch the whole thing. Please don't make me.

And that's it. That was my list. My somewhat hastily made list that reflects that most of what I wanted at the time was big: big travel, big romance, big moments. And it's not that I didn't have a lot of that in these 1001 days; it's just that it came from things I didn't plan or expect. Really, I wouldn't have it any other way. But I'll probably do another list soon, because as much fun as it is to live spontaneously, it's also kind of an interesting little time capsule of who I was when I wrote it -- and, hey, there are worse things than using a list to motivate me to get off my ass. Even if it is just to make a Goodwill run.

Which might be No. 1 on my new list, judging by the pile of clothes amassing behind my hamper. Good times.

Comments

[Catherine]

Consider this your voucher for knitting lessons from me, valid at any time. :)

[Michael Fancher]

Hrm.

While I will totally be the first to buy the GFY book (!), I suggest you publish this in a pamphlet so that I can read it every day, keeping it surreptitiously stored in the crinkling confines of my coat pocket as both a guilty pleasure and a sort of guide for when I begin to fret over the anxieties of my own life's moments of anti-climax, perhaps then needing to re-evaluate the goals I've set for myself.

This is so tender, touching, and yet humorous all at the same time that it isn't just a window into your life, but your soul. It'd be on the New York Time's best-seller list and everything!

(Right next to GFY!)

[Jessica]

The Grand Canyon is awesome. My parents dragged me to all the national parks when I was younger (and thank god, didn't make me camp) and it really is like....LITERALLY awesome.

[Tamara]

I agree with you on how these lists are interesting little time capsules about what are goals were/are and how much we've changed/stayed the same. Also, I love lists.

[Rach]

Thanks to you, I actually wrote myself one of these lists earlier this year (full of similar, if not MORE unattainable things). I can already see how parts of it will pan out, but it's still interesting even with the impending failure.

[Dan]

Regarding ...

3. YES! We shall.

30. I concur with Jessica. It's amazing, and I haven't even been below the rim. The North Rim is much different, too, and less crowded (but also with fewer amenities).

67. Eh, as far as the new ballparks go, I find it underwhelming. I'd recommend AT&T Park in San Francisco, or, if you're ever in the 'burgh in the summer, PNC Park, which may be baseball's prettiest.

92. Casey has one! Well, it's an antique piece that serves as a side table just inside our front door at the moment, and we're not sure it works, but she owns one.

Also, methinks Nos. 7 and 13 could easily be combined into one, if they were to make it into your next list. Though maybe I'm influenced by our honeymoon in Napa. (I have recommendations if you ever do get up there.)

[Rachel]

Some friends of mine got together and went carolling last year (I was sadly already gone for Christmas) - it was freezing outside, so they mostly ended up carolling in the local pub, but that actually really worked out, because random people joined them, and the bar staff loved it. We're going to do it again this year, and there are plans to actually wander the streets!

[Mookxi]

wow that's a pretty good effort ! Are you going to do this again ? ^^