On to the next.

About six months ago, I wrote a list of things to do. I figure now is a good time to revisit and re-assess:

Write music
(Write good music)
Send Lauren a letter
(Who cares, she's coming to see me next week)
Find a church
Get involved in a church
(Working on it)
Join a choir
(I started the process, haven't auditioned yet)
Make a photo grid a la the one I saw in Pottery Barn (Re-hang photo grid in new room)
Try writing another (better) children's book
(Haven't started writing yet, but am reading. It's research. )
Join a gym
Take a cooking class
(Am cooking more. )
Take a language class
(...I have nothing. Although there are some "learn how to speak French" CD's around the apartment somewhere.)
Take guitar lessons
(Still thinking about it.)
Visit Washington DC
(Not yet. )
Read
(Continue reading. )
Stop buying cheaply made clothes and be satisfied with fewer, nicer ones
(I've done well, here. Mainly due to the fact that I should try to be presentable at work. I dread the day when my boss calls me into his office and tells me I wear my jeans too much and I end up asking for a raise so that I can buy more clothes. I would accidentally do that.)
Develop pictures
(I typed this up before my computer crashed to the floor with my 2,000 Africa pictures. Let's move on. )
Go to some museums
(Easier for me to do when it's warm out. I'm going to some next week!)

You may have noticed how I failed miserably at all matters of classes and further learning. Well, that is not true. I signed up for a dance class that starts in April. Can't help but feel like I'm a little backwards here. I never danced as a little girl. I took baton for awhile, but it was disastrous. I wasn't bad, no. I was just the ONLY GIRL IN THE WHOLE FORT WORTH PARADE WHOSE PARENTS MADE HER WEAR SWEATS INSTEAD OF THE PRETTY RED FRILLY OUTFITS ALL THE OTHER GIRLS WORE. Then I lost my baton. I cried a lot and I never got a new baton. And I was always jealous of the girls who got to go to "make-up" classes. Because I thought it was a class about putting on make-up.

After that experience, I started wearing baggy t-shirts and pony tails and begged my parents to let me play softball. No more girly stuff that was going to break my heart. I bought a shirt that said, "God is life. Everything else is softball." I still have that shirt. In fact, maybe I'll wear it to a game next month after volleyball season ends.

Well, I don't remember where I was going with this.

Oh yeah, I'm doing what every other little girl does, only I'm 23. I still have my character shoes from the last time I danced, high school show choir. I'm pretty nervous about this. Every night for two weeks I almost signed up, then didn't. I was talking to Joey about it on his birthday and it just became clear that I should do it.

So I'm doing it. Paid up front and everything.

On another completely separate note, for the last two days I've had a nervous/excited feeling in my stomach and I can't eat. This could have something to do with the dance class. It could have something to do with my family being here in four days. Or, it could be something else.

PS - Mom, I forgive you for caring about the temperature of my body and making me wear sweats to the parade. I promise you didn't ruin my childhood. In fact, you may have saved me from a life of big hair, pageants, and other stuff that is not nearly as cool as softball. Or show choir...