Laziness is my natural state

Project Life 2013

I’m still plugging away at my 2013 Project Life album.

And today I’m sharing the cover page.

So…only 51 layouts to go.


Project Life 2013

The little wooden Virginia is there because I live in Virginia.

(I’m pretty clever.)

Project Life 2013

That washi tape is there because I made a mistake on the card, so subtly hid it.

(I’m a master of disguise.)

Project Life 2013

I found this Benjamin Franklin quote and thought it worked perfectly for the cover.

I also thought it might inspire me to finally take my move-in gifts to my neighbors.

(I moved in fall of 2012.)

(Still haven’t quite gotten around to it.)

(One day.)


Project Life 2013

The woman icon is because I’m a woman.

(Still clever.)

And the heart icon is because I needed a fourth icon because 2013 has four numbers in it.

(I know you love this special glimpse behind the scenes.)

Project Life 2013

I used the photos my mom took at the Cape of Good Hope in South Africa.

Because they’re bright and pretty.

And because I don’t have many photos of just me.

(And, honestly, because they were the first ones I found when I opened iPhoto.)

(This blog is a harsh-truth zone.)

Does anyone even remember the beginning of 2013?


Benjamin Franklin Guides Me Into 2013: Project Life Cover Page


Yesterday I came across a blog post by Monica Bourgeau suggesting everyone look back on 2013 and list 25 accomplishments. She suggests including things like:

projects you completed, celebrations you facilitated or took part in, family events you scheduled, taking care of your health by completing doctor or dental visits, thoughtful things you did for others, new hobbies or sports you started, fears you overcame, challenges or roadblocks you surmounted, supporting someone else through their challenge or roadblock, paying off debt, eating healthier, starting a gratitude practice, or donating time or money to a worthwhile cause.

When I made my list, it took a different turn.

But, despite their quality, I did accomplish quite a lot in 2013, including:

1. I sucked at least one person into my web of friendship.

(Her name is Lisa.)

(Let us hope she never reads this.)

(My web is only slightly sticky and prone to dropping its prey.)

2. I survived Skye moving to another country.


3. I forced my friends to take a sad group selfie outside a funeral.

4. I realized sad funeral selfies are actually a really bad idea.

5. I forgot my sad funeral group selfie realization during the after-party.

6. I realized that despite my inability to remember it’s called a reception, it’s also a really bad idea to call a funeral reception an after-party.

(In my defense, Allison mis-understood a text and thought we were being invited to a secondary reception, which could only be called the after-after-party, which is what placed the after-party phrasing in my mind.)

7. I re-realized sad funeral selfies are a really bad idea.

8. I realized I might not have forgotten the first lesson if funeral after parties didn’t come with free Whiskey.

(Mine also came with free ginger ale, as I’m not funeral hardcore.)

9. I did not burn down my house.

(Not every 2013 accomplishment took place at a funeral.)

(Though I did attend three funerals this year, one more than the number of weddings I attended, which a friend suggested is the ultimate sign of old age.)

My living room, right now. Because I'm bad at adulthood.

10. I organized my book shelves by color.

(Don’t worry, most of those skulls are seasonal.)

11. I decided color-coded bookshelves are a terrible idea as it now takes me roughly 10 minutes to find a specific book.

12. I resolved to re-organize bookshelves in 2014.

13. I stopped eating meat.

The excited face of a girl who remembered to do laundry and is thus wearing clean underwear!

14. I broke my first bone.

(Which led to my first non-wisdom teeth removing surgery.)

15. I finished reading all of Agatha Christie’s Poirot books.

(Unless that was in 2012. It’s all a Belgian murder solving blur.)

16. I ran my first (and last) zombie 5k.

17. I bought my first a lot of paint.

18. I started a non-fiction book club with my friends.

19. I stopped scheduling the meetings for the non-fiction book club, thus killing said book club.

(But in a very passive murder manner.)

20. I drank my first glass of sweet tea.

21. I did not have a single dog die under my care.

(The same cannot be said for cats.)

(Purrl, you’re sorely missed.)

22. I learned Vikings didn’t have horns on their helmets.

23. I ate a nut that had passed through an elephant.

I may have gotten myself a little something to remember Asheville by. #epicroadtrip

24. I discovered you can buy  happiness.

(And you can lose happiness.)

(Has anybody seen a green skull ring?)

25. I was not murdered by a serial killer.

(Due, I’m sure, to my constant vigilance, not, as my father suggests, it being an unlikely event that I fear because of deep-set paranoia.)

What were your accomplishments in 2013?


The 25 Awkwardest Accomplishments of 2013


Zombie Run 2013

1. Having no sense of smell is a powerful gift.

Don’t let the word “running” fool you – zombie 5ks are filled with a great deal of crawling.

And slodging.

And a teensy bit of swimming.

But what you’re crawling through.

And slodging through.

Is something that looks like mud.

But smells like death.

Allison, who has almost no sense of smell?

Was the least nauseated during these portions of the race.

And that’s why I’ll keep her around when the apocalypse comes.

Zombie 5K

2. Having money will keep you alive a little bit longer.

This might seem an obvious lesson, though that it also applies to comedic runs was shocking to me.

The way zombie runs work is you wear a belt with red flags (i.e. lives) and zombies try and pull off your flags.

If your three initial lives seem like not enough, you can buy more.

Similar to how, in real life, you can put your millions to work on building that zombie-proof backyard amusement park.

(Then feel free to invite me over – my zombie apocalypse plans are currently fluid.)

Zombie 5K

3. People cheat like mad woah, even at things that don’t matter.

This seems a worrying realization.

After running our Zombie 5K, I had signed up (along with Jeremy and Allison) to be a zombie.

When we realized this was a 3 hour obligation, we knew we’d made a terrible mistake, but by then it was too late.

(Itself probably a good apocalypse lesson, but I was too tired then to parse out the details.)

During our run about half our group survived, half felled by zombies stealthily grabbing our lives as we darted about and around on small, windy paths covered in squishy mud and hard tree roots.

Yet it hadn’t occurred to any of us that the stated rules, that you can’t hold onto your bright red pieces of plastic, are being inforced by no one.

And if you thought I was the party bitch, you should have seen me as a tired zombie.


If the ten stranger zombies along our section of the race found my indignant yelling annoying, they were too concerned about my mental stability to say anything.

And while I shamed roughly half of the cheaters into letting their flags hang free, the other half only grabbed on tighter.

I can only imagine that, if faced with actual consequences outside of losing at a race with no prizes, people might cheat the same amount.

My point, basically, is that I now have less faith in humanity.

And more fear of breaking bones on forest pathways.

Zombie Run 5K, aka my non-excited face.

4. I will not survive the zombie apocalypse.

Or any other apocalypse.

My best bet is some sort of Internet apocalypse.

And even then, I’ll likely go as soon as Twitter’s infected.

Life has never seemed so precious

Or so short,


4 Lessons for the Apocalypse I Learned Running a Zombie 5K