Fifty years ago this month, the nation elected its first Roman-Catholic/hot president (no offense, Ulysses S. Grant—the crazy, gun-wielding, alcoholic General thing went out of style with Andrew Jackson).
Every morning after I wake up, I make myself a to-do list. Sometimes, they get a little more complicated: GO FOR MAGNA CUM LAUDE, finish all your grad school applications, LET IT BE, watch the entire series of "The West Wing," stop thinking about boys—Colin Firth is not available.
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