Our dart team won 11 out of 13 last night. Woo-hoo! I love it. We have an all-girl team and most of the darters on other teams are men. Well, we all know how guys feel about losing (anything) to girls. It's such a great feeling. When Sam was alive he used to tease everyone that I defeated with a sing-song of "you lost to a girrrl...you lost to a girrrl." It was oddly satisfying. The more they lose, the more frustrated they get, and the worse they throw. I love it.

I've recruited lots of helpers for my little home improvement project (see....men can be helpful sometimes). My friend Frank, Stacy's boyfriend Dan, the guy who fixed my lawnmower (Jim), and Jesse have all been roped in. Who needs a husband, I say? I've given them a grace period of a week, since I need to do some cleaning, storing, and organizing, before the madness begins. I don't know where to start, really. After I clean the carpets, I need to paint and hang blinds (or should I do that BEFORE I clean the carpets?) I need to strip the wallpaper from the kitchen and the living room, also. And I need to find a bedroom door. I can't believe I've lived a year without one. When the cleaners came in to clean after Sam died they had to dispose of all of the bedroom furniture (including the doors) as biohazard. I would've liked to keep the furniture, at least, but I guess I'm looking forward to IKEAness.

I'm registering for an Accounting class this winter. I'm not really sure how I feel about it. I mean, I'm excited that I'm going to be returning to school in some form, but I can't help but with I were going for my PhD in English Lit, as originally planned. I would love to sit and read all of my favorites over and over, analyze them to death, and write...I feel like I'm selling out by getting my MBA. I'm just so tired of working so much and being broke all the time. I feel like I'm following my wallet more than my heart. Most people understand where I'm coming from, but others that know me better than I'd like to admit just raise their eyebrows and say, "...really?" Then they don't say anything, but I know what they're thinking. I feel like I have to defend my choice by saying things like, "You know, I really enjoy business," or "Did you know I finished my major in Economics before I finished my major in English" or something to that effect.

Then I truly wonder...can I really be a yuppy? Can I wear suits to work and carry a (*shudder*) briefcase? Will I be happy going to martini bars after work? Will I start going to Starbucks every morning? Will I trade moshing at Static-X concerts to listening to Dave Matthews and Matchbox 20 or some other boring form of music? Will I hang up my Doc Martens forever? Will my camping trips in the outdoors translate into camping trips at the Hilton? Will I get a soccer mom haircut? Will I read the Wall Street Journal instead of The Onion? Will I shop at Anne Taylor (yikes)? Will I be more concerned with my investment portfolio than my writing porfolio? Will I buy a condo and live on top of my neighbors? Will I shop at Williams Sonoma and eat brie?

Will I finally grow up?