Five Year Plan

Kir, inspiring Kir, who seldom mentions me, but I kind of have something in common with her and might possibly have inspired her, once, possibly, but probably not because she only says really cool things about people her own age. And who can blame her? I try really, really hard not to become friends with people my own Mom's age because how so uncool, is that! Anyway, Kir inspires me to write and her 5-year-plan post really did it for me, so I feel INSPIRED to post about my 5-year unplanned life too.

MoTab, soooo NOT. Didn't even listen to one song, yet my life continues.

Anyway, 5-year plan. I do make an annual 5-year plan and when the new year comes, I see how much I have unaccomplished and how much I've really done.

Once I made a plan to have a mile-higher. Did it, but that was years ago. Now I can't even get in an airplane without help from a pimple-faced-adolescent who usually drops me or knocks my head on the overhead storage and thinks it's ok because after all, I can't feel much, can I?

I hoped to meet the Queen by now, but I'm still holding on to the Xanax-induced hallucination as reality because nothing better has come along that sounds remotely cool enough to take over the delusion of knowing the Queen. So, for now, when Kristin reminds me that my good friend, The Queen, has turned 84 this year, I hold up a glass of whatever I'm drinking to toast to Her coolness.

I've practically given up on being on Oprah and I've been reminded over and over that I better get on the ball because she's retiring soon. But my problem is that lately I haven't gone through a nasty fall from the sky or written a really good book that she is willing to put her little Oprah seal on. I do realize that I've been living in the past and without setting REALISTIC 5-year plans, I'm not going to make it on any one's talk show, unless I make up some good family secrets and email Jerry Springer the what's-his-name lesbian-outing-guy-who-sensationalizes normal people.

But last year, about his time I put out there some plans that I am able to say, "Hmmmm, I just might be able to pull that one off," someday. Here's what I said in a letter to CCI. I got a dog, so it must have impressed them. It's probably one of the only times I didn't feel fake, when I wrote it, I mean. But when I said the part about, "before I die," I really meant, "this year." Yes, I'm still a hopeless overachiever.

Before I die I want to: meet all of my grandchildren; travel to Italy; have a tea party with the Queen; finish writing a book; spend weeks in warm places; remain best friends with my husband; lose weight; finish riding the length of Highway 89 through Utah; read more; eat more ice cream; be an expert of something; start a nonprofit foundation; love more; take my kids and their families to Disneyland; continue to serve the needy; attend my daughter’s wedding; have more friends; learn to draw; make millions; tire less.

I now have two more grand-children. I want to meet all of them even though the more I meet, I know that I am getting closer to death. Which by-the-way isn't a bad place to be.

I've lost weight. Went from a loose 36W 34H to a semi-loose 33W 36H. Only one person noticed that I got thinner and taller. I even asked several people if they noticed. No. Invisible, I'm still so invisible to most of you that I can hardly stand it.

I quit eating ice cream (thus the 33W).

I did START the non-profit. Waiting to finish the paperwork, but my heart is still in it and I will finish this year. BUT, I need to change the focus and change the name to something less specific.

Love more. Kachink. Taken care of. Big ole check mark on that one.

Loser on the Highway 89 goal. I'm so self-centered that 3-years-ago when I got embarrassed about showing up at the half-marathon with a tricycle so much more outdated than the paralyzed super-athletes' barely one-month-old-technology-handcycles I haven't gotten past my insecurity of owning something so outdated that everyone looked at me like they were saying, "Aaaah, how cute, she's participating even though she is too poor to buy a bike that was built in this century," so, no, still a loser on that one.

I've read more, or less. I joined a book club and I've read half of the books. But at least I finally finished that 1,000-page Pillars of the Earth that I had to cut into four parts with a butcher knife so I could hold it in my shrivelled, arthritic, paralized hands.

Disneyland. Not. I did make it to Sea World twice. And I can't deny, I had a great time. Mickey is overrated.

I am an expert of many things but all of them are self-berating so I'll spare you the graphic descriptions of my inadequacies.

Serve the needy. Pleeeease! Needy, that totally sounded like a 1960's feeding-the-poor-children-of-Africa Brad and Jolie promise. I've served myself and I've admitted that I'm needy, so that covers that one.

I've have made more friends. And I can be honest about how much I love Eileen, Amy, Melanie, Susan and Dawn. Thank God I can gain friends without taking away anything from my old friends. I couldn't bear that. I met Steve Wellenbach who may never think of me again, but who could really make a difference in my life if he did.

I tire less because of T.

What I didn't accomplish: growing up, Sheri's house, Sandy's birthday gift, and making millions.