If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by
scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable
than my own meandering experience…I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked….You’re not as fat as you
imagine.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing
bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that
never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm
on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you

Sing

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours.

Floss

Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes
you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with
yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you
succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe
you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your
choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body, use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever
own..

Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for
good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the
people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you
knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live
in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will
philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize
that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were
noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund,
maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one
might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will
look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who
supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the
ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen…

    & nbsp; So, last Tuesday arrived and Pitt’s campus quickly became deserted.  Buses lined Bigelow Blvd. and took my friends away, back to D.C., New York, wherever home is…or should I say was?...for them.

    & nbsp; Meanwhile, I was stuck in PA Hall for just one more night.  Initially, I thought I would be stranded alone, but Lauren decided to keep me company.  The few remaining souls, Kobie, Hillary, Lauren, and I, decided to watch “Elf.”  Anyone who has not seen this movie MUST see it!  I laugh until I cry every time I watch it!

    & nbsp; Buddy the Elf, what’s you’re favorite color?

So, we watched the movie, Kobie ventured back to Forbes Hall around 11, and the three of us girls ate Oreos and watched t.v.  We had several visitors, including 2 of our football player friends also stranded, Kyle & his roommate Michael, and Mike the Serb.

Throughout the evening, in our general kick-back style, Lauren and I had several beers.  Beer and Oreos…mmmmm.  So, around 5:00 a.m., I finally crashed.

Only to be awoken at 8:30 in the morning by an RA opening the door to my bedroom and stepping inside.  Damnit.  Why had I put away all of Natasha’s stuff that had been blocking that door?!  No one would have been able to get in.  Oh well, they say hindsight is 20/20.

So I sit up in bed, unable to even really see the RA because I don’t have my contacts in, so I grab my glasses. 

“Oh, hi, didn’t know anyone was here.  There’s a construction worker coming in to fix your light fixture.”

“It’s not broken.”

“They have to do it to every room.”

And she steps back out of my bedroom, and I look at the desk…where several Coors Light cans are just kinda hanging out.

Woopsie.

So I fall out of bed and run to hide the cans before the construction worker and RD come in.  Mission accomplished.

    & nbsp; Must wake up Lauren, who also has cans scattered through her room.  So, I stumble over to her door and pound.  No answer.  Call her.  I hear the Charlie’s Angels theme song ring tone that she has set for my calls, followed by a groggy hello on the other side of the line.

    & nbsp; Soon, she too is up, and after the construction worker brings his ladder in and changes our light fixtures, I am in the shower.  Bags packed.  Ready to go to big sister’s.

    & nbsp; Once I’m ready, Lauren kindly offers to drive me to Robinson Town Centre.  Taking a peek outside at the rain and wind, I shiver and, after a tiny bit of objection, accept her offer.  She puts on her coat and says she’ll run down to Atwood and get her car so I don’t have to lug my duffel bag down with me.  Sweetest girl ever.

    & nbsp; So, as I wait, I make some Spaghetti-O’s, watch a little “Makeover Madness,” and I’m beginning to wonder where Lauren is when my phone rings.  Lauren’s little voice on the other end simply states:

    & nbsp; “Hey, I’m outside.  Sorry I took so long.  I got hit by a car.”

    & nbsp; Come again?

    & nbsp; Yes.  Lauren, who not only gets attacked on a regular basis by wild squirrels, got hit by an SUV when she was walking across Fifth Ave. 

    & nbsp; She said it appeared the woman driving the SUV didn’t see her, and when Lauren put up her arms in an involuntary attempt to protect herself at the last minute, the woman thought she was waving.  That is, after she slammed on her brakes and still hit Lauren in the leg.  Knocking her to the ground, the woman simply waved a cheerful “oops, sorry,” kind of wave and DROVE AWAY. 

    & nbsp; Woops.  Sorry.  I just HIT YOU WITH MY SUV.

    & nbsp; So, Lauren got checked out, and while she has an enormous bruise on her leg, she has no real information to do anything about the hit and run.

    & nbsp; So, generally, beware my fellow pedestrian friends in Oakland.

    & nbsp; Ooo, baby, baby, it’s a wild world.

    & nbsp; So I’m off to my sister’s.  And I’m dying because there is only one day left before the secret is revealed:

    & nbsp; Carrie is three months pregnant.

    & nbsp; I’ve known for a while, but have had to keep it from my family.  Of course, Johnny knows, but he’s the only family member I wouldn’t have been able to keep it from anyway.  So, thank goodness Carrie told him when they were in Alaska, because everyone knows I can’t keep anything from my big brudder.

    & nbsp; So, Lauren and I meet Carrie at Olive Garden at Robinson, and I jump out of Lauren’s car and into Carrie’s brand new Saab. 

    & nbsp; “Ooooo, you smell!”

    & nbsp; I’ve grown accustomed to this gracious welcome from my sister.  She reaches for the console, where she stashes her plastic puke bags, and quickly assumes vomit position.  A few pathetic gags and she straightens up, peering at me over the bag with her huge brown doe eyes.  Without looking away, I put the windows down an inch and hand her the ginger ale that is sitting in the cup holder.

    & nbsp; “Thanks.”  She looks about 12 years old in her sweatpants and sweatshirt.

    & nbsp; “I just got a shower, I swear,” I offer.

    & nbsp; “I know…but you smell like Lovespell.”

    & nbsp; Ah, the joys of pregnancy.  Cravings, mood swings, and heightened senses that drive a wedge between you and your sister. J/K, J/K man…this exciting news has drawn Carrie and I closer than ever. 

    & nbsp; Since she and Scott have moved to Mars, just a half hour’s drive from Oakland, we’ve been closer than when we shared a room for the first 9 years of my life.  It’s crazy to think that in less than a year, all of us siblings will be in our 20’s.  It kind of places us all on the same footing…but I’ll always be Baby Jessie.

    & nbsp; Carebear and I headed to McDonald’s because she needed a sugar fix, but after she saw my double cheeseburger, she added one to her order of a simple vanilla milkshake.

    & nbsp; We got back to her house and I got to help bathe the dogs.  Yaay. 

    & nbsp; “I see what I’m good for,” I muttered, as I lifted each of the boxers in and out of the tub.

    & nbsp; The rest of the day was lying around, watching t.v. and doing absolutely nothing.  In short, it was great.  Dinner and bed around 9:30. 

    & nbsp; Thanksgiving morning.  8:59 a.m.  Carrie throws open the door to the front bedroom.

    & nbsp; “GOOD MORNING, it’s –“

    & nbsp; “My alarm’s set for 9.”

    & nbsp; “O.K!  Just making sure!”

    & nbsp; Sleeeeep…so good.  Must get up and help pregnant sister.  So up I get, and head downstairs to find that all Carrie had to do was put the turkey in and it had already been done. 

    & nbsp; “I was just lonely,” she confesses.

    & nbsp; So I hang out with her for a while, then once relatives start arriving, I go get a shower and everyone is accounted for when I come back down.

    & nbsp; The big plan is, once everyone is seated at the table, Scott at one end and Carrie at the other, I will start a new “tradition” of going around the table and having each person say something they’re thankful for.

    & nbsp; Everyone sits.  I start my shpeal about the new tradition.  General groan arises from the table.  Of course Jessie would want to start some bullshit tradition like this, but, because she’s the baby, we must placate her.

    & nbsp; I start with a simple “I’m thankful that this is the biggest Thanksgiving we’ve had in years…” and, surprisingly, everyone really takes the idea to heart.  Toasts to Baby Lucas and Johnny & Krissy, to being able to visit Alaska, a humorous comment about not having anyone around to nag…but a deeper thank-you for family and our unending capacity to love and support one another.

    & nbsp; Finally, we have come full circle back to Scott who sits to my right. 

    & nbsp; “Well, I’m really thankful for all this food you ladies have cooked today.  Especially Carrie…but I’m really thankful for what she’s cooking right now, which is the bun in her oven.”

    & nbsp; A moment of silence.  I’ve been staring at my mother, who is seated next to Carrie.  Mid-pass of a platter of turkey, her eyes lock with my sister’s.  Her lower lip begins to tremble, and even I can’t hold it back.  Tears pour down all three of our faces.

    & nbsp; “How long did you know?!” my mom yells down the table to me.

    & nbsp; I shrug and wipe away the tears.

    & nbsp; It was a great day. 

    & nbsp; After dinner, Carrie was suddenly exempt from any physical activity, which apparently included doing any dishes.  So, Stephy and I were forced to volunteer our help, something unheard of in Ford family tradition.  But, everything got done, and then we sat and relaxed with wine and pie.

    & nbsp; AND…Pitt kicked WVU’s ass in the football game that evening.

    & nbsp; I can only hope Christmas will be as interesting.