I need a jingle

I'm a little older, a little wiser, and aware now that successful business startups have a 5-year plan. Fittingly, 2012 marks the beginning of year five in my quest to find that elusive Romeo, Edward, William, Jasper/Jackson or Matt of my dreams.

It all started in 2008 with a two-part strategic plan: Date in '08. He's mine, '09. Never one to be beat down by failure ("fail often, fail quickly" I say), I began the next year with Try Again in 2010. And then 2011 came. A much more difficult year because eleven is a stupid word. I don't know anyone named Evan, I dislike the name Kevin, and that left me with "no bread with leaven" (not gonna happen) or "focus on heaven in 2011." A clear winner because Jesus smiled.

Which leads me to year five: 2012. The year we are all going to die, according to the Mayan calendar.

And so I turn to you, dear readers, to help me with my slogan.

Date in '08

He's mine, '09

Try again in 2010

Focus on Heaven in 2011

Look, this makes a pyramid! (Mayan reference)

Indian food and dancin' the blues

Not going to lie. There was a little (big) part of me that thought all my casey anthony blogs would get swept up by the Orlando Sentinel or at the very least News 13. Then maybe, just maybe, Tina Fey would be visiting town, watch the local news, see my blog, and say "hey, she's funny. And we look alike." And then I could join the writing staff at 30 Rock.

So far, it hasn't happened.

I'm 3 days behind on the trial which exposes my inability to commit to television without a strong male lead. If only Jose Baez was Ryan Reynolds.

Since I wasn't Casey Anthony-ing, here's a little weekend summation:

• Dinner at an Indian restaurant that was previously a Krystal. The inside still looked like a Krystal, except there was dark, heavy fabric and a picture of the Taj Mahal.

• Swing dancing and then blues dancing. Blues is like the nirvana of all dances. I don't even know what that means, that's how other-worldly it is. If Jesus was like Santa (which He isn't), I would ask Him to bring me a man that blues dances. 

• Bought lots of fresh fruit from Freshfield Farms and I think I want to make this a summer regularity. If you haven't been there, you should go because it looks like a barn. And every city girl needs a little farm oasis in the middle of downtown. Technically, SODO (South of Downtown). We're so hip. (Can I even be called a city girl if I'm from Orlando?)

• Spent two hours reading by the pool and eavesdropping on all the conversations. I was lathered up with SPF 45 so I felt particularly armed in my crusade against skin cancer.

• Great quality time with various girlfriends (Hi Shannon, Megan, Rachel, and Anna!)

• Watched a movie that I can't for the life of me remember the name of but it reminded me how much I adore the ponytail and pencil skirt. Plus it took place in New York. Starred Rachel McAdams. Will someone please teach me how to do a good ponytail? Because let's face it. It's not going away. 

• Most importantly, spent time worshipping God and being strengthened by His grace with communion. I wish we did that more often. Eating the bread and drinking the wine -- takes only a few seconds, but it's such a holy moment. If you are in the Orlando area and are looking for a church, I'd love for you to join me at UPC! I love this church. Love it. 

And now it's Monday. The end.

Why facebook keeps me single

Tonight, I came home to the heart-sinking email notifications that I had been tagged on facebook no less than 27 times in high school pictures. (Technically I discovered this before I got home because I finally joined the 21st century and got an iPhone. I also have an iPad2. The Golden Rule of gloating: do it often. do it publicly. do it in parenthesis so people don't think you are gloating).

While I love my high school friends dearly, this little trip down memory lane in photo form has a reach of thousands, which is just another way of saying you guys sabotaged any chance of my future happiness!!! 

Here's my reasoning:

1. High school friends know me and love me in spite of the way I looked back then
2. All my good guy friends from high school are married
3. If I do end up marrying, there is a high probability that the guy is (a) already my friend on facebook or (b) will be my friend on facebook
4. The family photos and yearbooks never come out until waaay into a relationship! Not now, people. The cat's out of the bag. I'm screwed!

On the upside, the photos weren't that bad. In fact, I'm even contemplating going back to wearing contacts (who am I kidding? way too much work) or chopping my hair for a sassy look. There was one picture where I had short hair and frankly I took a double-take on myself. (um, creepy, karin). 

So there you have it. Specs or no specs? Short and sassy or long and, well, a ponytail?

The year of the....

Eleven (as in 2011) is a bit of a problem for me. You see, the only words that really rhyme with it are heaven, leaven, and (this could be positive) Evan.

Hold tight. You'll see why. First, a skip down memory lane.

Ever enticed by fresh opportunities of a new year, I set goals, create lists, and establish plans. I've been doing this my entire adult life, but in 2008 with the presidential campaign in full swing, I realized I needed focus, determination, and a killer jingle to accomplish my mission.

Date in '08

He's mine '09

Unfortunately, this turned into a three-part strategic plan: 

Try again in 2010

Now that it is 2011 and no man is knocking on my door, i'm left with Focus on heaven in 2011, or No bread with leaven in 2011 (never gonna happen), or potentially Meet Evan in 2011.

Whatever part four ends up being, I sense a strong religious theme. Heaven (obviously religious). Leaven (hello Passover). Evan (it's a stretch but Evan Almighty).  

We can make our plans, but the LORD determines our steps.  Proverbs 16:9 (NLT)

observations on the single life

tonight's scene: me sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by screws, random pieces of wood, nuts and washers, two phillips-head screwdrivers, and an assortment of cushions.

the final product: two chairs, one bench, and a table.

i put the entire set together by myself. no supervision. i picked out the furniture alone. paid for it alone. carried it into my home alone. and built it alone. and all that alone time gives a girl room to think. so here's a smattering of what i discovered (about myself and otherwise):

1. some people intuitively know how things fit together. i am not one of those people. thankfully, i sat in a chair before, so i knew when i was putting it together upside down.
2. people who write instruction manuals are idiots. subjects and verbs are beautiful additions to the english language. use them.
3. in my world, anything unknown = requires genius level intellect and superman strength. this is the honest truth. if i don't know how to do something, i am genuinely, to the bottom of my toes, amazed when someone else does it. Which means......now that i built something from a box....sorry, men. i am no longer impressed.
4. i turn 30 in 6 months. if my life still looks like it does today, i give you permission to stab me in both of my eyeballs. i am so not kidding.
   
5. until tonight, i had forgotten about my crush on james marsden from 27 dresses. he's a writer in new york city who nearly always carries a satchel bag and rolls his sleeves. totally dreamy.
   
6. just because i can carry heavy boxes and put things together doesn't mean i ever want to do this again. ever.
   

hi honey, i'm home

Some women would love to come home to a dozen roses. Not me. The smile on my face could not have been bigger when I saw this treat. A perfect collection of 7 flawless library books in various shapes and sizes, delivered straight to my doorstep.

New Years Resolutions (or) Why InStyle Magazine is the Devil

I have many lofty New Years Resolutions, but there is one I am determined to keep: I hereby resolve to have long hair.

Each year at Christmas, I wish I had long brown hair. For some reason, hats and scarves beg for mysterious brunette locks to peek out from underneath their colorful wool.

And then comes January.

January and the cover issue of InStyle Magazine. And Katie Holmes with her adorable chop.

This happens every year. Katie gets an amazing sexy bob. Katie has brown hair. Katie's name starts with K.

Next thing you know, my hair is 9 inches shorter and I'm looking for Tom Cruise.

a second thought on love

I know the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but why, just once, can't it simply be through wit?

Cologne, Part 2

I've been doing blind smell tests all day. I'm beginning to think it's deodorant.

Also, Ikea sells 50 cent hot dogs (another way to win my heart).

Does this make me cheap?

handyman

It occurred to me today that I have been looking for men in all the wrong places. I've focused my attention on libraries and coffee shops, but that has no long term staying power. The real place? Lowes. That's right, your neighborhood home improvement store. Thanks to being a new home-owner, I visited three times today. (Excellent return policy, by the way).

Honestly, why have a man who can read and make espresso when you can have one who knows his way around a lumber yard? I spent 30 minutes looking for crown molding and never found it. Clearly there is a hidden skill that I need to tap into. Plus, the Saturday afternoon hot dog stand right at the entrance is a pre-date date if I ever saw one. Throw some sauerkraut on that puppy and I'm one happy girl.

I will refrain from resorting to the classic "stud finder" jokes, but trust me, they are a plenty.

So long, Mr. RTS Library Guy.

overjoyed

Dear RTS Library guy,

You just made me the happiest girl in the world.

While in the library (my own personal Eden), after handing you my card and sliding over my books to check out, you said those three little words I love to hear: "Do you blog?"

YES!!!!! RTS GUY READS MY BLOG!!!

Now, what's your name?

i'm over qualified to date

Oh faithful readers, never say I do not listen to your requests. I have nothing compelling of my own to share and so I resort to (drumroll, please) a quiz!

Not exactly the PhD I was hoping for.

You Have Your PhD in Men

You understand men almost better than anyone. You accept that guys are very different, and you read signals well. Work what you know about men, and your relationships will be blissful.

How Well Do You Understand Men?

Valentine's Day Special

Dear eHarmony,

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you email me one more time,
I will punch you in the face.

Can't decide on a title either

I am a terrible decision maker. After years of wondering, I think I may have discovered the problem.

This is an actual Pro/Con list I wrote today for the purpose of deciding when to travel, April or August.

• Pro:
  
• April is sooner.
• April has pretty weather.
• Pro:
• August gives more time to plan.
• Weather doesn't matter.

A match?

Did I just meet the man of my dreams?!

While at Starbucks, I just ordered my traditional complex drink. Once the drink was ready, the barista rattled off the order and this guy about my age swooped in and grabbed my drink. I stood baffled. He must have noticed me crouching in on his personal space because it caused him to check the name on the cup. As he handed me my beloved latte, I gently pointed out that it is a very specific drink and couldn't possibly have been for him, to which he replied that the order was nearly identical to his, excluding the name, of course.

With my luck, I bet his name starts with an "E."

simple, but complicated

It's the night after Christmas and I'm sitting around the campfire with my high school friends. Smack dab between two people who used to work at Travel Country (and one who has literally lived for months down by the river in a tent in Alaska), I'm getting attacked by every outdoor allergen in what can only be compared to the Allied invasion of Normandy while everyone else is mucking it up like the Great Outdoors is something, well, wonderful.

I'm convinced "mucking it up" is the wrong phrase, but for the life of me I can't figure the right one out.

All of this -- friends, campfires, and wheezing -- is the perfect combination to contemplate the finer things of life. Things like, why do so many friends of mine love Travel Country and is there any man's name that starts with "E" that I find acceptable?

To the first question, I am still perplexed. To the second, quite the conversation ensued.

As campfire conversations often do, the topic turned to relationships. Is it really too much to ask for a guy to wear rolled sleeves, a satchel bag, be witty, cook, conquer the great outdoors, fix appliances, excel in finance, walk with God, have higher-than-average verbal skills, be clean, cultivate his artistic side, and have a good name? Please, I'm not asking for the moon here. Any old Joe, Mike, Brad, Will, or Matt will do. (Sorry, all Edwards, Enochs, Ebenezers, and Edmunds need not apply).

Of which the reply came from the only male representative who said, "Karin -- she's simple....but complicated."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Holiday Want Ad

In light of upcoming holiday festivities and an increasingly elderly grandfather,

Wanted: a Thanksgiving date.

Male, Southern (preferably from Georgia), Baptist, (Southern Baptist a plus), preference given to those in the law or medical profession. Military experience favored. Must converse freely over sports, politics, and rising gas prices.

As my Thanksgiving date, you will inherit the full benefits of my cooking. Also, there will be a boat.

for the love of family

Voicemail from my sister:

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I really think you should do eHarmony. People get to know you through writing, which I think would work out better for you than face to face. I mean, I'd do it, but I don't think it would go over too well with the current relationship."

Love you too, sis.

p.s. In other things of note, a co-worker complimented me today on matching, only furthering my insecurities on how much of a rarity this actually is.

shalom

Tonight, we had a Sader (Passover) dinner (potluck) at my church. All in all, it was a great chance for the nice Jewish man to realize how ignorant we Gentiles are of his (and consequently our) rich heritage. But he was gracious and cracked jokes and really, what more can you ask for when you're watching a bunch of white suburbanites trying to sing Hebrew poetry.

Which leads me to my point for writing. As of tonight, added to my growing list of "must-haves" for the person I hope to marry is the ability to clap and sing in Hebrew. And if he can do that while wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled, I will be wooed.

lament

Not that I am pining away for Mr. Right to come along, but after these past few days, it would have been nice to have him around. For starters, I have strong reason to believe I am victim #9383727 of identity theft. Which means I now have the pleasure of having recorded phone conversations with several banks, credit agencies, Equifax, and the Seminole County Sheriff. Thankfully, I have the greatest dad ever (I'm not joking) and a brother-in-law who looks after me so much that he's really a brother, that this whole messy ordeal is more annoying than, say, messy.

Nevertheless, back to my knight in shining armour. Besides this financial headache, I am certain there was a jar that needed opening and my hallway light is out because I remain exceedingly afraid of lightbulbs and so every time I come home the house is dark. And that is scary too.