Of Christmas Yet to Come

I turned 26 last week.

When I imagined 26 as like a 13 year old, and I don't think I really imagined 26 at all before that, I figured by this age I would be settling comfortably to my grown-up lifestyle. A subscription to Atlantic Monthly, a collection of boucle sweaters, a roll top desk, coffee mugs hanging on hooks beneath a shelf displaying decorative cooking oils, etc. My concept was material in nature and decidedly based on the sitcoms of the mid-nineties. I don't recall as to whether there was a significant other in the picture but I know for sure there was a dog.

What I actually have are Victoria's Secret catalogs (they have a style of pants that fit me, okay? They are of course called "Carmen fit") flooding my mailbox, many many hooded sweatshirts (which I wear to work and which recently prompted a Lund's employeee to ask me if I had "just gotten done with class." Fair enough Lund's guy because I was also wearing a Taylor Swift t-shirt), a desk recovered from my sister's garage (which I do love), and one shelf that I recently put up to display my decorative cooking oils. So...self-fulfilling prophecy.

But for real, I think that with each passing year I understand that THIS (whichever year) is not THE year where I figure everything out and understand the concept of escrow or finally quit biting my nails and that they may never just *happen* in the future. All you can do is try and do things for yourself that you have never done before and see how it works out. And that, even in small ways, is what I intend to focus on this year. I definitely tend toward indulgence rather than commitment or abstinence so I don't want to go over the top and decide to start by...you know...giving up dairy or something.

Speaking of which, I had an email exchange today wherein I was describing the events and funny quips from the birthday dinner my parents threw for my sister and I this weekend, and informed all my friends that my nephew J is lactose intolerant. My roommate wrote back to me saying that she felt for him and also that upon first glance she thought I was announcing that J was Lacoste intolerant. As in having an aversion to overpriced alligator polos.