Do you choose your life or does your life choose you?

When I find out that something I was looking forward to has been canceled, when I've missed out on an opportunity, or I find myself letdown for one reason or another I like to comfort myself with the phrase "everything happens for a reason."

These five little words have an innocently-optimistic ring to them.

"It's okay that you missed your bus, you were meant to sit here in the rain for 20 minutes because the next bus is a magic-adventure-bus and it will take you anywhere you want to go." ... but the magic-adventure-bus never comes and I just end up being thirty minutes late for that interview, for that job that I really wanted. "But it's okay that I didn't get to that interview for that job that I really wanted because I didn't really want that job and the next job that comes along will be the magic-adventure-job of my dreams."

"Everything happens for a reason" implies that life chooses you and that you don't decide where you go with it, or what you do with it... and it's probably the best excuse, scapegoat, and biggest load of BS that I tell myself on a daily basis.

By nature, I'm the kind of girl that gets out there and grabs life by the gonads.

"If you haven't tried it, try it; if you're afraid to try it, try it anyway. If you haven't done it, do it; if you're afraid to do it, do it anyway. If you haven't seen it, go there; If you're afraid to go there, go there anyway. And, if it isn't broken, break it then fix it; if you're afraid that you won't know how to fix it, learn."

This is the philosophy that I choose to live by, not because it's right (it's not right for everyone), but because it resonates with me.

For the past few months I've spent a lot of time thinking about everything I want to try, do, see, break, fix and learn... and for the past few months I've spent too much time thinking and too little time actually trying, doing, seeing, breaking, fixing, and learning.

So this is my declaration (here for all eight of you to witness and hold me to, lucky you):

No more excuses... no more "it happened for a reason."

This statement would be nearly pointless if I didn't follow it up with a list of some sort to measure my doing/trying/seeing'ness by, so I've written out a list of 30 things to accomplish by the time that I turn thirty (a scary six years away). Let's not call this a "bucketlist" because I don't have any intention of kicking the bucket at the age of thirty *fingers crossed,* this is simply a list of things I've wanted to try or do for a while, and now I'm committing to making them happen.

(presented in no particular order):

1. go sailing
2. take a painting/drawing class
3. write a cookbook
4. become can-fit-pro certified
5. study at an ashram
6. work abroad
7. go vegan for 90 days
8. go raw for 30 days
9. take my parents somewhere nice
10. get published in a magazine
11. make my own wine
12. run a half marathon
13. hike the 65km coastal trail of Lake Superior
14. take a web development class
15. take a cooking class
16. go rock climbing
17. enter a photography competition
18. visit the provinces and territories that I haven't
19. research my family tree
20. start my own business
21. write a screenplay
22. throw a theme dinner party
23. learn to sew
24. learn to drive standard
25. create something that will last longer than I do
26. choose a faith
27. graffiti a public building
28. make a public stand for something I believe in
29. go snowboarding
30. camp in the middle of winter.

Some of these will be easier than others. Some require a large time commitment of weeks, or months, or years and others only require an evening. Some will require a lot of motivation to actually follow-up on... and fortunately I have that motivation eating breakfast with me every morning.

I was very proud of myself after completing this list... so proud in fact that I bragged about it as if I'd actually completed all of the tasks. Boastfully I read Steve the list while he ate his eggos and I ate my oatmeal... and without skipping a beat, without letting me have a moment of boastful satisfaction (!!!!) he looked me dead in the face and said "alright, which one's first?"

S'more Camping

What started with an overlooked exit off Hwy417, ended with a ruined birthday cake being cast by yours-truly (plate and all) into Mother Nature's great wonders... followed by a second ruined cake being hurled (once again, plate and all) into the bush - both plates shattering against an innocent and unassuming Spruce. Then I went and kicked the dog (calm down, I didn't kick the dog... THAT would have been overly dramatic) but I did swear at her and I'm pretty sure she went and sulked with the spruce-tree for a while while I tore Steve a new one.

Yes, every camping trip presents us with its own unique challenges be they in the form of bad weather, crap directions, malfunctioning tents, bodily injuries or, as the case may be, all of the above. Normally, overcoming theses challenges and proving yourself rougher, tougher, better prepared and more adaptable than your city-slicker friends can be part of the appeal of these weekend adventures. In reality, setting up a two-pole tent and starting a campfire with liquid "fire-starter" isn't challenging at all - engineering and invention have raped camping of all of the skill that was once required.

Still, I have a high self-opinion and a tendency to think myself rougher and tougher then I know I really am. Generally I weather the rough patches with all of the grace and poise that a young lady who has sustained herself on burnt marshmallows and not showered for three days can muster. I'll make optimistic statements like "at least it isn't snowing," "I guess we won't have to worry about forest fires!" and "it's a good thing the bear didn't get the beer" ... which probably make people want to slap me more than they actually help the situation, but they do have a way of putting things into perspective. If things ever got that bad, you know you could always just jump in the car and drive ten minutes to the nearest Motel6.

Throw spousal dispute into the mix, and you're no longer talking about a mere disagreement with your tent's fly and a Motel6 isn't going to fix the mess... what you have on your hands is full force combat against anything that looks at you the wrong way - and when that cake looked at me the wrong way I lost my cool.

As far as camp-karma goes, this has not been a good year. The season started with a bon-fire ban, bugs, and a tent circa 1811, that wasn't going up, no-way, no-how. The curse continued when I lost my keys, my air-miles card and our dog on the next trip. It then produced closed hiking trails, sun burns and hypothermic weather conditions on my Manitoban adventure. And finally on this last trip: a two hour detour, destructive dog, forgotten tent pegs, full on hissy fit, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, two broken chairs and a chipped tooth (not mine, thank-god, Steve's... but don't worry honey, it's cute).

Which makes me think that perhaps I will pack in the tent for a year and call it a season - before a tornado makes a go for our tent, or a ravenous bear invites himself to our campfire party, or I fall into the out-house, or a bag of expired hotdog buns give us all food poisoning...