Two years ago, I went to New York City for a month. I had a list of more than two hundred things that I wanted to do. My friend, Erica, and I did them all. Eight years ago, I took my kids on a 50-day cross-country road trip with a list nearly as long as Interstate 40. It took me six months to make that list. In fact, it was a multi-layered spreadsheet complete with lesson plans and expense sheets. We saw (most) everything! The kids didn’t even revolt. (There were a few dark days in Philadelphia, but we won’t talk about that.)
People like to joke about the poor souls who make lists for the making of yet more lists. I don’t know why people find that funny. It just seems practical to me. My mother frequently teases me about the lists I made as a child that always began with:
1. Get up.
The truth is… most lists could really be boiled down to that.
I live in Los Angeles and I’m frequently amazed at the variety of things we can do here. I can jump waves, snowshoe, and eat Ethiopian food all on the same day if I want to. It’s more likely that you’ll find me baking cookies or shuttling kids, but I like knowing that I have options.
I am married to a man who is the hardest working person I know and his work takes him all over the globe. I have three teenagers who are threatening to leave the nest despite my attempts to hypnotize them with home cooking. (As I write this, I’m dreaming up a list of reasons why they should attend college in LA.)
This blog is born out of the idea that most of my lists are full of tasks, and void of joy. I keep pushing the fun to the back of the cupboard in favor of the practical. Do you know what I mean? What am I saving it for? When is that special occasion?
For me, it’s this year. I hope you’ll want to come along for the ride.