So? I’m finished. What’s next?

We planted trees in the backyard on Friday night—a tiny Magnolia with shy, pink blooms, and a straight and sturdy Pear. GB dug beneath gray clouds while I waited for the sky to unfurl. I pitched in wherever I could; this was, after all, 36×37 assignment #35: Plant a Tree.

Here’s proof:

This is my shovel, this is my foot

I’m glad I got this photo, because I really did try. In all honesty, though, I’m a little short on brute force, and when it comes to digging, I’m largely unsuccessful.

I’ll admit, then, that the scene mostly looked like this:

…and this

…and this

He We didn’t have much time to work before the sun set, but it was enough time for me to thank GB for being so supportive and for helping me with the project this year. (You can read my first post and the explanation of 36×37 here.) If I thought he was my best friend before the last 365 days, I know it with all my heart now.

I tried to tell him so as he scooped soil back into the hole. I hoped he could tell I was sincere.

It started to rain. He didn’t pause, he just kept planting.

~*~

Magnolia tree

At its start, this project was really just a cover for my early mid-life crises. I hypothesized the lengths I thought I’d need to go to keep from smacking my head against the predictability of daily routine. I thought I’d need big doses of adventure to keep myself from growing old and stale. What I didn’t realize was that I’d been planting and harvesting adventures all along—even in the smallest things, like sipping a new Greek coffee, or planning a quiet evening out with GB, or whispering bedtime stories with the boys. The big-time adventures—like flying the Light Sport aircraft and doubling down in Vegas and taking trapeze lessons and standing on the state line—were great, truly. But when I started to look for new experiences, I realized I don’t need to work so hard to create them. They find me, they find us, until it’s absolutely intoxicating.

I did right to bring my family with me on this year’s adventures. They were essential, because all along I understood how much they are the critical ingredients to my happiness. It’s so much better to see life’s surprises together, and no matter which direction I look, I will always land on my family’s faces.

Just as importantly, this blog became a place to seek out a community. I had no idea the blogosphere was full of such remarkable people. Now I’m rich with friendship—the face to face kind, and the screen to screen kind, too, because I’ve found both to be equally important. I’ve met good people, excellent writers and story tellers, all with a love for experience. Best of all, I’ve become entrenched in dozens of funny, insightful, engaging, ongoing conversations. No small talk here.

It was so much more and so much better than I expected.

~*~

Pear tree

This morning, at breakfast, I had an idea.

“You know what we should do this year?” I said. “We should start a box. And every time we do something new or interesting or different, we should find a token of that moment, bring it home and put it in the box. At the end of the year, we can look at it all together. I can blog about each one so we have a quick record of each…”

And now, I finally know what the next phase of 36×37 will be. Forget the race against time. Forget the numbers. We’ll just look at this life together and see what we can squeeze out of it.

…As for assignment #36? I did it. And I ate the most gorgeous ice cream birthday cake to celebrate.

~*~ Follow me on Twitter: @36×37
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#13 is Coming. (In the Meantime: Seaside Shoe!)

I have so much to tell you about my weekend trip to Nashville  for Assignment #13. It’s just that I need more time to write it out. That’s why I’m so grateful for what I found in my inbox yesterday morning: 

Roadside Seaside Shoe! …courtesy of my excellent (and lifesaving) friend, Harsha, from H is for Happiness. 

First, what you need to know: Harsha began her blog when she moved from Singapore to Goa to be closer to her parents. She writes about her culture, her travels and her adorable son, Ishaan. She’s a beautiful writer with incredible spirit—a truly wonderful read any day of the week. Be sure to check her out. 

Anyway, Harsha found this Seaside Shoe! while cruising the Panjim shoreline Saturday morning. Jealous? 

Seaside Shoe from Harsha at H is for Happiness

In her words: 

“Here’s a slipper I found today on our morning drive along the beach…it seemed so forlorn, sitting on the red brick wall that separated the narrow slip of beach from the heaving Arabian Sea, all grey and surfy from the monsoons, as if waiting for someone to come and claim it, show it some love, give it a home or a foot in this case. Thought I would send it along.” 

What a picture. One of the best things about Harsha is that she never takes these kinds of scenes for granted. 

Come back tomorrow for Part I of 36×37 Assignment #13. And then come back Wednesday for Part II. (And then come back Thursday and Friday and every day after, just because I like the company…) 

Happy Monday, all! 

Have a roadside shoe? Send it to 36x37blog@gmail.com. I’ll feature your shoe pic here, and if you have a blog, I’ll pimp that, too.  

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37
~*~ Visit the 36×37 facebook page

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Checkpoint: The Next Round of 36×37 Assignments

   

Tracking Time (Big Ben, Google Image)

Quick math:

  

We’re 16 weeks into 2010. So far, I’ve attempted 10 and accomplished eight of my 36×37 assignments. That means I have 28 assignments to complete and 36 weeks to complete them.

 

For those playing along at home, that means I’ll somehow need to eek out an assignment every 1.3 weeks to save some face in this town. So I need to get moving. Right now, this very instant.

 

But before I do, let’s recap.

     

  Here are the assignments I’ve already completed:   

• Start a blog (April 17)
• Give my compliments to the chef (April 24)
• Let my kids be the bosses for a day (May 3)
• Join the Race for the Cure (May 15)
• Visit Randyland (May 31)
• Drive a Maserati (July 14)
• Take a helicopter ride (July 18)
• Be published (July 29)

Here are the assignments I failed miserably:   

• Sneak backstage at the Dave Matthews Band concert (June 22)
• Rough it (Failed attempt #1, Failed attempt #2)

Here are a few of the new assignments I’m kicking around: Mostly, I’ve been choosing my assignments on a whim. Somebody says something that catches my attention, I put a strange twist on it, and shove the plan into action. I like having enough flexibility to be spontaneous. But there are a few things I still want to lock down. For instance, I want to:   

• Go a whole week without swearing. Think that sounds easy? Apparently you don’t have the same potty mouth I do.
• Visit the world’s largest rubber band ball. It’s 6’ wide, 2,000 lbs and lives in Miami, FL. We’re planning a trip to Orlando early next year, so to me, the 4-hour drive from Point A (Disney) to Point B (Giant Ball) is hardly an obstacle. GB? Not convinced. So then the convincing will just have to be part of the assignment.
• Double down in Vegas. I mentioned this assignment in my very first post, and now I’m pleased to report that our trip is officially on the books. I have my copy of J. Edward Allen’s “The Basics of Winning Blackjack” thanks to my friends Kim and Mason. Maybe we’ll go all Zach Galifianakis on the joint and count some cards. Look for this post this fall.
• Take a hot air balloon ride. It sounds trite, doesn’t it? It seems like everyone has this on their “Bucket List.” When I first started this project, a few readers asked if I would consider skydiving. The answer is decidedly “No,” because unlike my very brave friend, Written Permission, I’d rather go up in the air than fall through it.
• Walk H to his first day of kindergarten. I’ve mentioned this assignment before, too. And really all I can do is just **mention** it, because I’m otherwise too emotional to talk about it.
• Meet Andy Roddick. If you’re thinking this idea sounds like the Dave Matthews Band thing, you may be correct. However—I know a guy who knows a guy…who knows a guy who just happens to be Tennis Phenom Andy Roddick! So we’ll see. ELG & TWG, I hope you’re still up to the task!
• Spa Day! Now this I can definitely do. It will just be nice to spend a very pampered day with my friend and soon to be birthday girl, Katy—because she deserves a little TLC from people neither of us know.
• Buy dinner (anonymously) for a family I don’t know. I read a great post today on theycallmejane’s blog (another “Freshly Pressed” feature) about the reaction she received when she bought coffee for the woman behind her in the drive-through line at her local coffee shop. I’ve thought of doing this before. A neighbor even suggested I add it to my list of things to do. I don’t want to lose sight of the idea, so I’m adding it now. (Jane, when I complete the task, I’ll be sure to let you know the result.)

There’s more, of course. I’ve mentioned some of my other planned assignments in other posts. The rest will just have to come to me. If you have assignment suggestions—or if you think you can help with any of the above ideas—please share in the comments section below.     

Again, thanks so much for reading. I can’t wait to see how the next eight months turn out.  

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37
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#6 [FAIL!]: The Backstage Pass

 

Dave Matthews Band - Huntington Park

Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time.  

That happens with me sometimes. I’ll have an idea—I’ll turn it over and over in my hands—and if it feels heavy and shiny and smooth enough, I’ll forget to look at it from all sides. And that’s it then. That’s all it takes. In 30 seconds, I’ve attached that idea to my unshakeable list of things to do, and there’s no turning back.  

Last Thursday night was a perfect example: When one of GB’s buddies asked us to join him and his wife for the Dave Matthews concert, my idiot wheels started turning. Concert—what? Sneaking backstage is on my list of things to do this year! Instantly I turned that glassy rock of a concept around in my hands and only saw the upside. I made up my mind.   

Oh, how my mind was made up.   

~*~   

“Here it is: I’m going to find Stage Security, explain that sneaking backstage is on my 36×37 list, and see how far my natural charm and a crisp green Benjamin will take me.” I clap my hands. I could bounce on this bed I’m so excited.   

GB checks his tie in the mirror and doesn’t respond. In a way, he’s in a tight spot. He knows it doesn’t matter whether he approves or disapproves of my plan—either stance will add fuel to my fire.   

“What.” I say.   

“I’m not saying anything,” he says. I get the sense he wants to state that fact for the record.   

“GB—Matt and Celia don’t even have to know! I’ll excuse myself, have my chat with the bouncer, and if he tells me to get lost, I’ll come back. No harm, no foul! But if he tells me I can go backstage, I’ll call your cell phone, and you guys can join me, right?”   

GB straightens his tie again and puts on his shoes.   

“Right!” I say, feeling doubt bubble up through my system. “Just wait. It’s going to be easy.”   

~*~   

I wake with my stomach in knots. There’s no way in hell I’m getting backstage tonight and I know it.   

This didn’t have to be a problem. If I’d never mentioned my plan, I could have backed out of it. But the truth is, I’ve told everybody—not because I ever thought I could pull it off, but because I knew I’d lose my nerve if I didn’t force my accountability. 

The worst part: All along, I’ve only been half serious. I know it’s an asinine—and dare I say immature—idea. I also know it’s almost impossible to pull off. But again, it’s like a squeaky toy I can’t help but bat with my paws. What if I can make it work?  

I call Huntington Park to talk to the media director. “About the show tonight…do you have backstage passes?” I explain my project and offer to barter: five minutes backstage in exchange for some serious blog love.   

The guy on the other line laughs at me. And then, he deigns to condescend. “No, lady,” he says. “The band said absolutely no backstage passes.”   

“But listen, I’ll blitz Huntington Park in my…”   

“Lady, you’re wasting my time.”   

I drop back my head and stare at the ceiling. I know. I know! I’m wasting my time, too, by talking to someone with no sense of humor or glimmer of imagination.   

~*~   

Two quesadillas, 24 ounces of Draft and three songs into the set list, I excuse myself and head to the East side of the stadium under the guise of using the restroom. I wander around for a moment to build some resolve and survey the scene. There’s one clear path to the stage—the only workable path as far as I can tell—and it’s being guarded by the youngest bouncer on staff. He’s baby-faced; perhaps he’s easier to persuade. Hmmm… 

My iPhone is camera-ready in my left back pocket, my pay-off money is in my right. I take a deep breath, clench my hands and start walking.  

That’s when I notice three other security guards walking his way. They fist-bump each other and joke around a bit. Then they seem to settle in.   

I shake my head. If I had just a fraction of a shot at persuading the first guy, I have absolutely no chance of persuading all four. I give in. Game over. F minus for Assignment #6. I’ll have to try again later in some smaller venue, or add something different to my list of things to do.   

~*~   

I watch the crowd as I walk to my seat. So much has changed in the 10 years since my last Dave Matthews Band concert. The crowd is older now, and I’m not prepared for that. In my mind we’re all still college kids killing time before fall semester begins. 

I’ve said all along I’m ok with 36. And I mean that, mostly. I’m totally down with age and wisdom, so I look forward to growing older. It’s just the letting go of things I’m having trouble with. I wish we could keep certain parts of ourselves and just add on and add on and add on. It makes me wistful, nostalgic, a little sad. And also, inexplicably thirsty. 

One thing hasn’t changed, though. Warehouse is still as jaw-dropping as it ever was.     

 

Once I settle back into my seat and start to relax, I clue into the fact I’m here with the same guy who took me to all the other Dave Matthews concerts, including the one where my awesome Dodge Shadow died in the parking lot, and some ‘shroomed-up guy tried to sell us his handmade hemp pants while we waited for the tow truck to arrive. 

I also remember we’re here with one of the funnest couples we know. I discover that Celia likes to people watch (and critique) as much as I do, and that Matt has almost encyclopedic knowledge of the band’s second album, which everyone can agree is the best one. We laugh a lot–mostly at the sweaty guy in front of us–and it ends up being the best Dave gig I think I’ve seen.  

So I think I’m ok with crossing this “assignment” off the list, accepting my failing grade, and acknowledging it doesn’t count. Mission not accomplished. Which means I still have 31 things left to do, and precious little time left to do them. 

P.S. Hopefully the Maserati test drive will be next–I’m hoping to shore up those details this weekend. You’ll read about it in the next week or so–if I live to tell the tale…

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37

~*~ Visit the 36×37 facebook page

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