It's the end of summer. The Canfield Fair is over, the Scrappers have played their final games and the kiddies are back in school. With all the hustle and bustle going on right now, both around town and in my own life, a few topics have come to mind that I'd like to share with my reading audience.
l I don't mean to dwell on a topic, but it's really the most exciting thing going on in my life right now. And after this column, I swear the topic of my move back home is over. In the process of moving back with the parental units, I have realized many things about myself and my bank account.
First things first, I can't believe at any point in time I have uttered the phrase, "I don't have anything to wear." Are you kidding me? During the move, I went through every single article of clothing from my old apartment, clothes that never made it to the apartment and clothes that I didn't even remember I had. Literally, I found five pairs of pants, all that still fit, that somehow got lost in the shuffle. That's when you know you have a clothing overload problem. And in turn, a depleted checking account.
The sad thing about this is that I never wear half of it. I'm fortunate to have two jobs that don't require a real strict dress code. So basically, I can wear sweats to one job and jeans and a T-shirt to my other. When it comes to comfort, that's fine. But the fact that I have two cute denim skirts, three little black dresses and a countless amount of "going out tops" hanging in my closet, maybe to be worn once a year, is a little depressing.
What might be the most depressing thought about it was how much money I have spent on clothes throughout the years. And I wonder why I have 18 jobs.
l Pretty soon I'm going to have to realize I'm not 21 years old anymore. I attended the final Buck Night of the year Thursday night. And then proceeded to hit the town with a few friends. I got home at 2 a.m. I then woke up at 8 a.m. I used to be able to pull that off like a pro. Now I can't directly look at light for three hours after I wake up. Oh, what I would give to be young again.
l So as my summer came to a close, I was gabbing with my new partner in crime, Candace, about the fact that I have never been on a "real" vacation. Sure, I've been on vacation, technically, but it's always had a reason behind it. Whether it was for school, dance or a work-related thing, I've never just gone anywhere just to go. Well, that ends here. Today starts the day of "Dana's going on a cruise next year so she's going to lose 50 pounds" vacation diet. To make sure that I'm keeping on track, I'm going to post each week how much I have lost and hopefully that will keep me on track. I swear, this is the diet I'm going to stay on. I think I've said that phrase more than "I have nothing to wear."
l And finally, I have finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier, but I think it has Dana written all over it. I want to be the person who names hurricanes, horses and college bowl games.
I have been glued to MSNBC for the past two weeks, mainly because I've been engulfed in the Democratic and Republican national conventions. But in between the election updates, there was a massive hurricane heading toward the U.S. named Gustav. Gustav? Seriously? Who named it Gustav?
The National Hurricane Center is in charge of naming the hurricanes, and this year's list has some doozies on it. We have Ike (not Turner), Marco (not Polo) and Nana. What? A fond name that many of us call our grandmother's is going to be associated with a tropical storm/hurricane? I think these people need a break. And I'm just the one to give it to them.
But hurricane season only fills up a portion of the year, so that's why I'm including horses and bowl games. Horse names always crack me up, and I always thought it would be cool to name one. And the bowl games are easy, just give me a sponsor and I'll call it a day.
So now that I figured out what I want to be when I grow up, it's time to start the diet. This probably wouldn't be a good time to say I'm craving the Hot Dog Shoppe. Oh, how I'll miss you, cheddar cheese fries.
Sulonen is a sports writer at the Tribune. E-mail her at email@example.com