Portrait of 2008 by a 25-Year-Old Single Woman, Part 1

My Christmas Letter, 2008

Dear Friends and Family,
All of your beautiful family photos and Christmas cards inspired me to share the highs and lows of my year. I thought about sending a picture card with a few shots of me doing all the awesome things I do all year in really scenic places, but decided that might be a little over the top. So instead I will detail them for you in a letter, aptly titled "Portrait of 2008 by a 25-Year-Old Single Woman."

The year started off with a wicked hangover--two bottles of champagne will do that to you. (To all my cousins' kids: read closely - this is Aunt Joanna's first Life Lesson.) However, I was glad to have downed a bottle of champagne before arriving at the all-inclusive mondo party on the Georgetown waterfont, because inevitably the 234,727 sorority chicks in mini dresses will get served before you so you find yourself waiting 25 minutes just to order two rum and cokes that come in glasses roughly equivalent to Dixie cups. Life Lesson #2 - When you really need to be drunk, you can't rely on anyone but yourself, so load up on the pregame in case it takes two years to get a drink. At least then you'll have the comfort of being drunk while you're elbowing a-holes for space at the bar.

In March, I took my first full week off from work in two-and-a-half years to vacation in Florida. We happened to be in Key West during college Spring Break and I made out with a cute midshipman from the Naval Academy. I also snorkeled for the first time and smoked a delicious vanilla cigar. (Life Lesson #3 - you can find high-quality, fairly inexpensive cigars in Key West. Or really anywhere besides 7-11. You'd be better off rolling up some cardboard and smoking it than a cigar from 7-11.) While stumbling down Duvall Street, cigar in mouth, I called my office phone and left a voicemail for my "work self" from "vacation self." When I called into the voicemail the next morning I discovered not only a remarkably incoherent and babbling message from my "vacation self," but also one from the co-founder of our company asking me to take care of writing something for him. Luckily, "vacation self" did not take it upon herself to return the voicemail to Mr. Founder, or else it would have gone something like, "Absolutely, Mr. Founder, I'll take care of it as soon as I stop drinking yards of margarita at Sloppy Joe's, sober up, and get off this fantasy island." Life Lesson #4 - It is never a good idea to mix "vacation self" with "work self."

In May I moved into a new house. New as in new to me, not that it was a new house. I'd approximate that the house was built in 1785, with the radiator heat being installed somewhere in the 1900s. My bedroom, an addition to the house circa 1930, was originally intended as a mud room and was not necessarily my first choice of living arrangements. But when my initial housing plans fell through I ended up with fantastic roommates in a not-quite-so-fantastic abode. I especially enjoyed going into an Open House for the brand-new house for sale next door and seeing a walk-in closet that is bigger than my "bedroom."

Stay tuned for Part 2 ...