sighhhhhhhhh....

Oh my dear 101 List, how I've neglected you :(
Seriously here's what happened:

On April 29th I gathered up allllll the tasks I needed to finish in the following six months. I created multiple schedules, and put together a huge yellow binder full of info telling me what, when, and how I needed to get it all done on time. Well you know what else happened on April 29th? Story goes as follows...

On April 29th my wonderful, precious, spectacular friend Katie (real friend, not me in the third person ha!) secretly purchased a one month subscription to match.com for me. See, a few weeks prior I had decided to go ahead and try it out as A. my sister had such huge success (still dating the first guy she contacted nearly nine months later). And B. match seemed MUCH more interesting than dating some skank douchebag from a bar where you have NO idea what his intentions are...usually just the hookup and nothing beyond. ANYWAY, while I was able to put up my entire profile for free, I didn't have the money to get the six months "full access" subscription, so I was going to wait until May 15th when I got paid. I relayed this info to my dear friend Katie and she just went right ahead and hooked me up, the sweetheart!

Well it was an all too classic scene. Instead of an old stuffed rabbit buddy in my grubby little hand, there was my yellow binder full of organization and dreams. And instead of older school friends who shunned little girls with stuffed rabbit buddies, there was a shiny new match.com subscription full of dozens of winks and emails to sort through. And as if in slow motion, my yellow binder got tossed aside and the match sorting began. And in the chaotic pile, one guy stood out...he hadn't even emailed or winked at me, just looked at my profile. I clicked on his. 39 years of age. Hmm, well you know what they say about older guys? I don't exactly know, but I DO know that they are oft times commitment-phobic for sure and I wasn't about to go down that slippery path again. So I moved along. Despite his beautiful eyes, intriguing disposition, personal and professional interest in photography, and the part where I wanted to resurrect my beard fetish, I moved along.

Like I said, April 29th.

On April 30th, after returning from the Killers show, I had a match email waiting for me.... yes, a match email from my bearded, handsome photographer guy. He made a Seinfeld joke and talked about how much he loved road trips and how he is a huge Blackhawks fan. He said "I'd love to grab a drink with you."

And--because life's too short to get bent out of shape about age--that we did two nights later when, interestingly enough, the Blackhawks were smack dab in the middle of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Now it sounds like The Cliche amongst cliches, but seriously, and in all honesty, within the very first minute, I was totally hooked. It was just so easy to laugh and touch and just be in that two feet or so of space together. Yada yada yada, we hung out until 4am and there may or may not have been a women's bathroom involved, 23 floors up no less. We got together again a couple days later with similar results. And then he left for a week-long road trip along Route 66, throughout which we exchanged txts and such, and even talked on the phone one night. Hours after he returned the following week, we got together again and, truly, the rest is history. And by history, I mean a month full of swirly, gooey, frightening, wonderful, cozy, life changing times. Late nights and late mornings. Silly shenanigans and serious chats. Hockey and Spotted Cow. Cats and sweatshirts. High fives and sushi. A train and a ferriswheel. Delicious kisses and electric stares.

Alright I could go on indeed. My point here, is that I'm clearly incredibly distracted and my yellow binder of organization and dreams is sitting on my bedroom chair underneath a pile of laundry. Really really great things in life only happen once though, and I can always adjust The List. That's why extensions were invented. I'll figure it out. In the meantime, I just have to learn to not worry so much and drill the following into my brain until it's good and nestled in there: When there's an opportunity to be happy and thankful and relish in the good life is giving to you right there on a silver platter, you better fucking accept it! It's totally right there!

Will do, my friends, will do.