How Does She Do It?

B, you know me.

2012-01-09T22:04:00.003-06:00

My friend Beth is pretty great. She knows how much I love a good birthday fortnight, and so extended it to a birthday fiscal quarter. She treated me to a belated Jucy Lucy–from Matt's Bar, of course. I'm not an animal–on Sunday, but that was not all.

She gave me a kitchen scale (I love free kitchen equipment!) and also this mug:

Awesome New Mug (center), pictured with
my Kitchen Dinosaurs (remember them?) and elephant teapot

I love it, of course, and told her I'd been eyeing it but didn't think I could justify yet another coffee mug (seriously, I have so many, and love them all equally), especially as I had bought myself and several friends and family either this monogrammed lady mug or this monogrammed gentleman's mug for Christmas last year. And also because I have a souvenir mug from the Luxor hotel in Las Vegas that says "Stephanie" in hieroglyphics (the monogramming of the ancients!) (thanks, mom!). I figure there's a limit to how many identifying mugs a person can reasonably buy herself, but if you are gifted them, well, there is always room in the cabinet.

Beth said, "I saw this and thought, 'I bet Stephanie has been eyeing this but didn't think she could justify buying it for herself.'"

BRAIN TWIN. (For real, my vast Baby-sitters Club-and-grammar knowledge base is matched only by hers, plus we have the same lip balm in our purses.)

I require more successful sandwich containers.

2012-01-09T21:42:00.002-06:00

Well, I love Rye. I'm just a deli kind of girl, and this restaurant makes me supremely happy. So far all of the food I've ordered has been appropriately savory–except for the cheesecake, which is different in that it's actually cakey (and a little lemony) with a really pleasing top layer and crust. Perfect with an after-dinner cup of decaf (it settles the stomach and makes room for cheesecake faster).

Emily and I had dinner there last Friday with our friend Steph, and what with the pre-Reuben kreplach and the Reuben-adjacent mashed potatoes, I knew I would need to save some food for later if I was going to enjoy that cheesecake. I asked our server for a box so as not to waste any of the precious deli goodness, and here is what they gave me:

When the server brought this I had a moment of just not knowing what to do with the food and the box I was supposed to put it in. Emily and I looked at the box, and at the sandwich, and back at the box, and she laughed while I tried to defy physics and logic and create something functional. I don't know how acquainted you are with Reubens, but overall they are a substantial sandwich variety, nearly as tall as they are wide, and filled with much delicious corned beef. My half-portion was too large for the bottom of this box, but would have fallen apart if I'd filed it in vertically. I ended up sort of smushing it down at the bottom, and stacking my ramekin of coleslaw and pickle spear on top. It was awkward. (The tiny box holds leftover potatoes).

Now, Rye offers takeout, and even devotes spots in its lot for to-go orders. This makes me wonder: do they have separate, better boxes for takeout? How would they have boxed up a full order of an open-faced Reuben? These boxes are a cute, fake blue collar riff on a Chinese to-go box, but they lack handles and aren't built to the dimensions of the food Rye serves.

My suggestion: Keep the takeout box idea, but make ones that are appropriately sized for what needs to go in there and can be easily stacked. It would have been nice to arrange my foods next to each other rather than clumsily stack them. Also, lids for the plastic ramekins! They make a delicious coleslaw, and I hate to waste it. I don't buy in to the coleslaw-as-parsley-garnish-equivalent viewpoint.

I would buy this magazine.

2011-12-21T14:34:00.000-06:00

I was reading some of Joanna's archived posts recently, and I came across this image of the May 12, 1956 issue of The Saturday Evening Post:

First of all, look at those headlines. I want to buy this magazine right now just to read those features. I say they're still timely.

Second, look at that cover comic. I love that it takes you through the dad's day/week, and I also love the positions of all the figures. It's really easy (at least for me) to look at old photos or drawings and not be able to imagine those people moving and acting like regular people. Nevermind that my dad was 7 when this magazine came out; there is no way he moved and acted like a normal kid! So I love how in #2 you can see the kids being totally rowdy at the table, and in #6 how the dad is slumped against the wall a bit, actually relaxed even though he just went grocery shopping in a hat.

Third, this reminded me that once in middle school while canvassing my block to get orders for my school's fundraiser (it was the worst, always, and I'd imagine for the people on the other side of the door, too) I walked by a pile of old furniture and things that a neighbor had placed at the curb for pickup and found an old issue of the Post with JFK on the cover. I kept that thing for years. I thought it was so cool and that it would be worth something one day even though the edges of the cover were kind of crumbly. I have no idea what happened to it.

First of many...

2011-12-18T22:40:00.002-06:00

The first of many similar countertop arrangements.

Everyone on my Christmas list this year is getting homemade candy and cookies (and wine with which to wash it all down). The sugar cookies will be dipped in chocolate, and that's tray #1 of toffee with dark chocolate and almonds (THAT'S RIGHT I MADE TOFFEE WHICH IS A REAL CANDY NOT SOME EASY PEPPERMINT BARK (except I am making peppermint bark, too, and other things that I am excited about)).

So now you know what I have been, and will be, up to this week.

Look who guest-posted about automotive maintenance

2011-12-02T07:25:00.004-06:00

You should head over to the Adulting blog* today and check out the guest post I wrote on super basic automotive maintenance. Learning about cars is a bit of a hobby of mine, and since my feeling whenever someone doesn't know how to check their oil is "OH MY GOD WHY DON'T YOU KNOW THIS YOU ARE A GROWN-UP, SERIOUSLY GUYS," this seemed like a good place to start, internet-advising-wise.

As I am maybe only 64% adult at this point, this does not mean that "according to the internet," I think I have my act together. But I would say it makes me a source of automotive advice in the same way that Us Weekly likes to say "according to our source" or "the insider says"–so, loosely.

*You're going to want to immediately Google Reader this blog, which provides methods by which to "become a grown-up in 387 easy(ish) steps." Kelly points out some easy-to-address ways by which we can all be a little more with it (like opening a bottle of champagne with minimal drama or being cool when your friends have babies). And when you recognize some of your own adult behaviors in her posts you'll feel really proud of yourself. Thanks for having me, Kelly!

Ladycamping II: The Schnappsenning

2011-11-20T17:49:00.004-06:00

Fact: Camping is my favorite. It's so much my favorite, in fact, that I was sad to have only gone camping six times this summer. One of these trips was a hike-in ladycamping venture with Emily and our friend Julie.

Additional fact: Winter is another one of my favorites. It's beautiful, cozy, quiet, crunchy--just a great season. But it also means an end to camping.

Except! There are these magical buildings within select Minnesota State Parks called "Camper Cabins." They are snug and built of wood and double-paned windows. And the winter-friendly ones have electricity and heat!

This weekend Emily and I went to Jay Cooke State Park with Julie and our friend Beth to stay in a camper cabin. Beth and I went last year with her husband and our friend Morgan the weekend before Christmas, and it was so charming and wintry it shouldn't even be allowed. Snowshoeing! Cooking on a fire in the middle of winter! (We called it our "Last Christmas" weekend, after Wham! As one does. I mean, who wouldn't like to vacation within that video? So many sweaters, plus alps and feathered hair.)

This weekend involved some truly wonderful things. Julie made amazing pulled pork in a crock pot for dinner Friday, and Saturday morning we cooked bacon in my electric wok. We took a three-mile hike in the falling snow, napped, and drank. Schnapps, to be precise. And here is why these ladies are such good cabin-ing buddies:

Last year at the cabin, Beth introduced me to butterscotch schnapps. I, in turn, introduced Emily and Art to butterscotch schnapps. ("This cool brown liquid that tastes like pudding is getting me drunk!" said Art.)
When planning what we would all bring, it came up that all four of us had booze to contribute, because all four of us, separately, had butterscotch schnapps.
This led Emily to dub our trip "Ladycamping II: The Schnappsenning."
No one brought the same kind of butterscotch schnapps. So we passed around cups and much tiny sip taking, swilling, and large word ascribing followed. Truly, no group ever spent so much time using the vocabulary accrued in 13 collective years pursuing liberal arts degrees to describe candy booze.
They're not all called "butterscotch schnapps." Some are called Ice Hole, or Buttershots.
Julie showed us how to make hot cocoa with schnapps. It was so tasty, and made for such a good post-hike nap. Tip: mix the schnapps with the cocoa before adding water. It should be kind of like cake batter--that's when you know you won't get lumps. Julie, you improved my life by an overall 19% this weekend. Thank you.

We drove to Duluth in the snow Saturday evening (Emily's first time there), and on the way up there I really appreciated seeing that drivers anywhere north of the Twin Cities acknowledge the fact that weather exists, and we can't control it, and sometimes we all need to drive 15 miles under the posted limit so that we don't all drive into a ditch. Love that. And then we had dinner at Fitger's (always delightful) and while we were there learned about this thing called Bentleyville USA. And you can board "the train to Bentleyville" at Fitger's every Thursday night through Christmas. Do it!

So now I'm at home drinking more schnapps cocoa (hot schnapps-olate?), wearing flannel PJs, and enjoying the fact that a week from now there will be a pine tree in my living room. This weekend being the first snow of the season, it's really only appropriate to have spent it in a cabin with friends and a crock pot of mulled wine (provisions are important). Really kicks the holiday season into high gear.

26-27

2011-10-02T13:44:00.004-05:00

My 27th birthday was Friday, and as I looked back on the year last week I told a friend that I think this has been the best year yet. In a nutshell:

Went as Marty McFly for Halloween (living the dream!)

Took horseback riding lessons
Changed jobs!
Got my passport
Attended four beer festivals
Traveled to Las Vegas (Buffets! Fake rooftop wedding proposals!) and Puerto Vallarta (Open bar! Massage on the beach!) within a two-week period
Finally learned to roast a chicken
Played a 50 percent role in Emily's wedding proposal
Was a facial hair poetess
Saw Paul Simon in concert
Learned to do a backbend
Got a new bike
Camped at six Minnesota State Parks: Interstate, Mille Lacs Kathio, Schoolcraft, Jay Cooke, Lake Maria and Wild River
Attended a Neil Diamond tribute concert
Camped at Acadia National Park (Saw whales! Climbed a mountain!)
Played on a wiffle ball team named for a dinosaur

I have high hopes for the next year.

So, Stephanie, where were you last week?

2011-09-12T21:11:00.025-05:00

Saturday

Flew to New Hampshire, and then drove to...

...to camp at Acadia National Park for four nights.

Sunday

Climbed some mountain...

Monday

Walked to an island at low tide...

Saw some awesome coastline...

...and got up close with some waves.

Tuesday

Went whale watching (that thing in the water is a whale, and I am no master photographer. Also whales are deceptively fast)...

Took some Dramamine so I could really enjoy the ride back...

...and ate my second of three lobster rolls with a view of the whale watching boat and Bar Harbor.

Wednesday

Back to Minnesota. Not as exciting.

My future husband is located somewhere within this grocery store.

2011-07-24T22:53:00.007-05:00

Somewhere in the Cub Foods in Edina is my soulmate:

I must find him.

(Also, for the best explanation of the less/fewer rule, see this 2009 post, featuring dinosaurs!)

First ride on my new bike

2011-07-07T12:19:00.004-05:00

On Tuesday I picked up my modified road bike (I really do prefer "Frankenbike") and last night I finally took it for a ride. This was the final result:

(See a before photo here)

For some backstory, I haven't used a bike as a mode of transportation since middle school. I always walked or took the bus in college, and frankly biking in a city rather than my small suburb from way back when kind of terrified me. In that "seems like a death wish" way. Plus, you know, I own a car. But then I was given this bike right about when my frustration with gas prices and my general level of consumption was rising and I started to rethink my position.

Last night I did a test ride over to Emily's cohabitat to return her keys after checking on Bernard and Triskit over the long weekend. It's about 5.2 miles round trip by bike (longer by car, because of Lake Harriet) and was a good learning experience distance.

Key learning #1: Do not wear strappy thong sandals. They are comfortable for walking but grab your feet in unfortunate ways when biking.
Key learning #2: How to use downtube shifting. I was mega intimidated but--shockingly--this technology used on tens of thousands of bikes is very user-friendly.
Key learning #3: Good modifications are amazing. I went to Tommy T's Cyclery in Linden Hills and Tom chopped down the seat post a few inches and installed an adjustable stem and flat handlebars. He does great work (and has a busy shop to back that up) and his prices are fair. It completely changed how it felt to ride the bike and made it fit so much better.
Key learning #4: I am going to want to use the rack in back. Riding with a small messenger back resulted in a lot of adjusting during the ride.
Key learning #5: Damn, those seats hurt. I feel a little bit like I did when I wiped out on a balance beam in gymnastics when I was 6. Ouch. I think I will order a gel seat because before you say anything, I am not wearing padded-ass bike shorts. I'm not that much of a cyclist and I don't jive well with non-natural fabrics.
Key learning #6: Savings! By my calculations, by not using my car last night I saved $0.72 in gas. My summer goal is to use my car on the weekends as little as possible, and I want to keep track of how much I save on each ride by not driving.
Key learning #7: I like biking. Oh, shut up, Minneapolis. Before you get too I-told-you-so, I will say that EVEN WHEN ON A BIKE, I was very frustrated by how few cyclists seemed to take responsibility for their own safety. It is not up to the cars to keep you from being hit. It is 50% up to you.

The suspense is killing me!

2011-06-20T21:48:00.003-05:00

My stepmom passed her old road bike on to me a while back, and I've been struggling figuring out how to ride it. I don't do races and don't plan to in the near future, but this is a great bike that still has a lot of value at 20 years old and I'm determined to put it to use.

I thought about selling it to buy a bike that was exactly what I wanted, but yesterday the cycle shop near me recommended we lower the seat and replace the current stem and handlebars with an adjustable stem and flat bar. So basically, turning my riding position into one similar to what I'd have with a hybrid bike (instead of putting my butt higher than my shoulders).

I should get it back this weekend--I'll post pictures when my Frankenbike is complete.

THIS IS VERY EXCITING.

2011-06-20T21:16:00.001-05:00

You certainly cannot be both.

2011-04-14T22:10:00.008-05:00

While on my way to Paris [Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada] last month, a man on the street was making eye contact with people and talking to them as they walked by. I whipped out my phone and pretended to be busy with it, because 1) don't invade my space, humanity, and 2) I had a buffet to get to! This did not stop him from providing some street corner analysis that he shouted after me down the block:

"Girl, you're too fine to be important! Damn, girl. You're too fine to be important! Pick one or the other. Pick one or the other, girl! Damn."

Big Money Big Money Big Money!

2011-04-14T21:54:00.005-05:00

I went to Las Vegas last month and played $5 on slot machines so I could say I spent some time gambling. By far, the coolest slot machine in all of Sin City:

My friend's brother is a pit boss in Vegas and we met up with him for drinks on our last night. When I told him about this game, he said, "Oh yeah, Kitty Glitter! That's a great game!" So the professionals and I agree.

Resolutions

2011-04-11T21:05:00.004-05:00

I made a bunch of resolutions at the start of this year, and then added one a couple months in. In a Vinyasa yoga class in February, an instructor helped show me how to approach a full wheel pose in two steps. It seemed impossible, and my teeny, dinosaur-like arms were shaking the whole time. I decided then and there that I'd work up the strength and nerve to do it. And I figured it could very well take me until 2012 to figure it out.

A couple weeks ago, before my trip to Mexico (that is another post), I kind of barely got myself sort of propped up maybe a little bit. By which I mean, it went well. Tonight at yoga I did a full wheel (aka, "bridge," which we all did when we were kids) for the first time in about two decades. I feel so proud! It's decidedly harder to do when you weigh 100 pounds more than you did then, and have developed rational thought (aka, "fear of falling"). One thing I love about yoga is that for as "age of Aquarius" of a reputation it has, it's actually very systematic. It breaks down your self-ascribed notions of what your body is and is not capable of, and shows you, move by move, what you can learn to do and how you can progress.

Still on my list for 2011:

Take an auto repair class (by the way, any recommendations on where to do this in the Twin Cities?)
Camp in a national park
Reach the top of the rock wall at my gym
Run a 5k (this is really a very specific July resolution)

How are your resolutions coming? Any late additions?

Beard-Off Poems

2011-03-28T20:12:00.005-05:00

So, did you know I was the poet in residence at the 2011 Minnesota Beard-Off, planned by my good friend (and Emily's fiance) Art Allen? I had to add some class to the room to balance out all the swarthy pirates, fisherman, lumberjacks and hipsters. The Turf Club never heard such elegant turns of phrase. Anyway, I wrote poems for each category and I thought I'd share them with you.

Full Beard - Sonnet
Behold, the urban lumberjack,
 His face a mandibular North Woods. 
Covered in sideburns, moustache and chin strap, 
Like a built-in sexy parka hood.  

How did this man, his shirt so plaid and flannely, 
Grow such a luxurious beard? 
Did he simply close his eyes, think thoughts most mannily, 
And a wondrous face pelt just appeared?

  I hope he never shall yell timber, 
And fell his face forest with Gillette.
 For bare faces inspire dim words 
In this whisker-loving poet.  

It’s a scientific fact that lumberjacks hate razors. 
Lucky for us. Now let’s judge their face hair!

Partial Beard – Ode
It puts you in good company when
You shave off half you've grown.
After all, Abe Lincoln wore a partial beard
And so did David the Gnome.

And we ladies love the mutton chops
Because they leave the chin area clean.
You'll never get post-makeout stubble burn from
A young Teddy Roosevelt, or Wolverine.

But don't get me started on freaking goatees,
Because no guy should employ
The elaborate whisker topiary favored
By three-fifths of the Backstreet Boys.

So I'm going to wrap things up here,
Let's get this round on the road.
You only grew half a beard,
So I only wrote you half an ode.

Moustache - Haiku
Without a moustache
Magnum PI would just be
A cop or some shit.

You know what’s not cool?
Thin little Frenchman ‘staches.
I mean, Christ, douchebag.

And a Fu Manchu,
While impressive in its way,
Won’t earn you smooches.

And so good luck, men.
For he who masters the ‘stache
Has walked a fine line.

Freestyle - Limerick
And now for those who fake it 
Maybe because they can't make it.
If you can't grow your own 
Wear one hot-glued, or sewn! 
A face doily? Sure. Crochet it.

Finale Round
Beard-Off
A fight to the beardliest.
A cage match of built-in ski masks.

Contestants both Beardsmanly and Beardsladylike,
Throwing down to join the furry-faced elite.

Most bearded heroes are myths,
Like Paul Bunyan, Santa Claus, Zeus, or “Bob Vila.”

But today, a real hero will walk among us.
To victory!

"Oh, the weather inside is toasty. And I like being toasty."

2011-02-20T12:35:00.004-06:00

Four years of music school, and my brother composes that little ditty.

I love winter. I sincerely do. I prefer it to the other seasons (with the exception of driving in snow). I like stocking up pre-snowstorm, drinking dark beer, hunkering down inside with friends and board games, forced movie days, bundling up, the sound of snowflakes hitting the raised hood of my down parka, the satisfaction of a good pair of snowboots keeping out the damp, stomping in snow, walking to the grocery store instead of driving, people helping people get their cars unstuck, and the way a good layer of snow absorbs sound and provides you with real quiet.

This morning I walked around my neighborhood, getting some hot chocolate and buying a pound of beans for the troops at Caribou and then heading to the Co-op for a few items. I've talked on the phone to my parents today, and made blueberry pancakes and a Bloody Mary for myself. The Ohio State-Purdue game is not disappointing. Neither are my pajama pants. A pine-scented candle is burning and my apartment is warm. Later today I'll make a big stir fry using some of the ginger I bought on my errand walk earlier. I'm not going to lie, I miss my Christmas tree and will probably listen to "The Nutcracker" later on. If the roads were safe, I'd head to a State Park to rent snowshoes and walk out on frozen water.

I'm just happy as a clam with a brunch cocktail and Wigwam socks.

Minnesota Weekend

2011-02-12T16:45:00.016-06:00

I've been a bad blogger lately, but not bad in a way I feel bad about. More like, life has been awesome lately and I'm enjoying it and just being lazy. But I did want to share some pictures from two weekends ago. On that Friday, Beth and I volunteered at a party at the Walker Art Center. It was for the new "The Spectacular of Vernacular" exhibit and had an indoor/outdoor Minnesota theme:

There was also a contest for the best outfit. Officially it was for "Sweaters That Tell A Story," but I just went for "Super Midwestern." Thankfully someone could lend me a corduroy John Deere baseball cap with fleece-lined earflaps to complete the look.

And then that Saturday I went for a meatloaf sandwich at the Cheeky Monkey Deli followed by three hours of snowshoeing at Afton State Park:

And Sunday, I don't know. Probably I half-napped while watching "Men in Black" on TBS or something.

Pastafest 2011: Some Final Notes

2011-01-08T15:51:00.005-06:00

Earlier this week I went over to the Cohabitat to enjoy some savory roast chicken with rosemary and mashed sweet potatoes that Emily made. She's gotten a lot of cooking equipment from Art's mom's recent "Getting Married/Moving/Giving Away All My Crap" kick, and has grown-up lady items like a food processor and meat thermometer. So Emily made the main dish and main side, as well as honey butter, and I provided cornbread muffins and wine.

I am totally daunted by making a roast chicken (Emily has no fear about cooking any kind of meat). It was one of my 2010 resolutions and has rolled over into a 2011 resolution. The funny thing is, I do have cooking skills. Mainly, name an Italian food, and I can make it. I am fearless! And I cook tasty things. My basic metric is a scale of 0 to "my grandma made this," and if it doesn't rate high, I keep adding things. So I don't so much do recipes as I do permutations of many similar ingredients and cook by feel. (I also make amazing cakes.)

Some additional backstory to bring you up to present day: This fall Emily and Julie came over to make pasta sauce and knit, because I know pasta sauce, Julie knows knitting, and Emily is the buffer because while Julie and I have a mutual lady crush, you never want the first "date" to be awkward. And sadly, that night was the first time I made a sauce I wasn't happy with. In my rush to serve tasty things, I had the heat up a little too high and the sauce scorched. Mounds of cheese helped the final result, but my pride was wounded. I have my dad's secret recipe, which to me tastes just like my grandma's sauce, although my cousin makes his own variation that he swears tastes just like grandma's sauce and I swear tastes just like grandma's sauce but with more sugar. Ahem. Anyway, my family treats pasta sauce as serious business, is the moral of the story.

So I was excited, on roast chicken night, to propose a Pastafest 2011 day, in which I would come over to the Cohabitat and have a re-do, this time with more meat! Emily, Art and I planned a great afternoon of sauce-making, followed by lots of eating and wine, and watching of DVDs, and then sleeping on the couch because of the wine, and then homemade waffles in the morning. It was going to be great! And then I remembered I was going to REI's Winter Trails Day at Ft. Snelling State Park with my friend Beth, and we had to come up with a plan B.

Plan B ended up being me feeling like a schmuck for proposing Pastafest 2011 and then not being able to make the sauce, leaving Art and Emily with the responsibility of sauce-making and me with the responsibility of delegating my dad's secret recipe, which makes me nervous, because Emily is not related to me. (My family really does take food seriously. My dad didn't even give me his sauce recipe until I was 20 and is still holding his pizza recipe hostage. He's tried to "teach" me, but I always do it wrong. I think he likes having this proprietary knowledge and doesn't actually want to pass it on.)

And because she's "cooking for an Italian," Emily is feeling the pressure. But I'm sure the sauce smells great right now, and Art is wanting it to be ready, but it's not going to be ready for a long while yet, so Art, why don't you sit down in the living room and watch some Star Trek?

I will leave Emily with these final tips:
Sometimes, for science (and spice proportionality), you have to try the sauce along the way. And sometimes it's delicious to use a slice of bread or a piece of cooked penne to do so. Call it Italian French Fries, like my dad does. Just dip a piece of pasta (or bread, if you're less committed to the French fry similarities than my dad is) into the sauce as if you were dipping a fry into ketchup. Now you have combined testing (necessary!) with snacking (which Art will beg for anyway!).

Also, if you want to add more wine to the sauce to make it richer, go for it. Don't limit yourself to what I instructed, because my notes were imprecise at best. Do what you think will taste good! And just know that no matter what, I appreciate your effort, and will judge you harshly regardless. Xoxo, Stephanie

2011

2011-01-02T19:21:00.006-06:00

The unexpected is always upon us. And of all the gifts arrayed before me,
this one thought at this moment in my life is most precious:
And so, we begin again.
-Feast of Love

A wonderful thought at the start of a whole new year, don't you think? I always feel grateful this time of year to have been given another.

One Final Christmas Post

2010-12-30T21:37:00.007-06:00

I should have posted this a week ago, but oh, well. It's too funny (to me) not to share.

My Christmas card:

I mean, it's a nativity. You see a lot of that. But then, the message inside:

Why I like this:

It's literally Jesus, Mary and Joseph. But it's also the colloquialism! I love it when something involves a colloquialism and then some literal version of it.
COSTCO.
The many good buys I'm sure to get there in 2011.
My dad's exclamation points are triangles.

Thanks, Dad and stepmom!

(Also, those kids in the picture are me and my brother circa 1989, wearing our Disney Christmas sweatshirts at the mall in Milwaukee when we went to meet Santa. Although apparently I think I'm on my way to the Gun Show.)

I think we all know the answer.

2010-12-27T11:57:00.004-06:00

Merry Christmas from the Family.

2010-12-25T20:38:00.006-06:00

***

Everything in this room tells a story. (Seriously, point out an object in this photo in the comments, and I will give you an accompanying story.) I'm so happy to be home.

***

"What are you do-ing, sis-ter?"

2010-12-24T16:15:00.004-06:00

"I'm taking pictures of the living room at Christmas with my laptop because I don't have a real camera."

"Oh. You don't mind if I just, like, stand here, do you? Eatin' some pizza?"

"Not at all, Adam."

***

Happy Holidays from Cat Face

2010-12-12T22:25:00.005-06:00

I Need To Start Writing Things Down.

2010-12-12T21:45:00.003-06:00

So I ventured out in the snow on Saturday to get dish soap because I was out and even though I could have sworn I'd bought a bottle a few weeks ago in anticipation of just such a day, I couldn't find it anywhere. I decided I must have put the bottle back on the shelf at Target because I didn't need it yet and went about my business, bundling up, walking to the store, losing the bottle in a snowbank and finding it again. I got to the bottom of Dishes Mountain earlier tonight and was putting away some things in my kitchen and stumbled across the soap I bought a month ago sitting right in plain sight under the sink.

It's like that time I found myself with two copies of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 because it was $5 at Target and I thought, "What the hey?" and picked it up, only to come home and find another $5 copy still wrapped in cellophane on a shelf in my living room. Five dollar DVD amnesia!

Page 44

2010-12-11T17:28:00.004-06:00

They liked to be there, before the warm fire, with Black Susan purring on the hearth and good dog Jack stretched out beside her. When they heard a wolf howl, Jack's head lifted and the hairs rose stiff along his back. But Laura and Mary listened to that lonely sound in the dark and the cold of the Big Woods, and they were not afraid.

They were cosy and comfortable in their little house made of logs, with the snow drifted around it and the wind crying because it could not get in by the fire.

-Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods

...That Name Again Is Mr. Plow.

2010-12-11T13:45:00.004-06:00

Well, no news here: it is snowing in Minnesota today. But I have had friends over to eat baked ziti and drink mulled wine and eggnog for two nights in a row. My dish soap ran out and Dishes Mountain has grown to disturbing new heights in my tiny kitchen. It was time to put on the snow pants, long underwear, serious snow boots, down jacket, fleece-lined knit hat and fleece neck ruff and make to the Linden Hills Co-op on foot for some Dirty Hippie Dish Soap (not a real brand, though perhaps my next business venture).

When the snow wasn't blowing in my eyes, it was really fun to see all the other people walking or snowshoeing to the Co-op. Some of them were very smart and were pulling their bags of groceries in plastic sleds. It was so pretty out (when the snow wasn't blowing in my eyes) that I decided to take a short detour on the way home to walk by a park. I saw people digging their Prius out of the snow--which, even if you get it out, how will you get anywhere with it? You see the roads. They're right there, with snow piles taller than any part of your car.

Kitty-corner to the Prius was a stuck USPS truck with front wheels spinning. I kicked the snow away from the postman's front tires so he could get down the street, but we met up again around the corner when he had to stop for the minivan stuck going uphill--which, again, if your bumper is maybe five inches from the ground, why would you try?

Postman and I pushed the minivan back down to the plowed street from whence it came, and by that time the mail truck was stuck again. I got down on the ground and scooped snow away from the wheels and he was on his way again. Back on my block I noticed the dishsoap had fallen out of my jacket pocket. Nothing like looking for a white bottle of soap in a blizzard! I retraced my steps and found it in the snow next to the mail truck's tracks where it had gotten stuck the second time.

It was honestly so fun walking around in the snow that I had to play in back of my building for a bit. Stomp, stomp, stomp; snowball; stomp. A guy in the building on the other side of my block was running sprints back and forth in his parking lot, so I think I was comparatively pretty cool.

Now I'm back inside for the weekend, polishing off the nog and watching unchallenging Ben Stiller movies on cable by the tree while my boots dry in the bathtub and I finish my Christmas shopping online. I mean, I'm not going back out there to shop. It's snowing at an incredible rate!

Christmasing

2010-12-06T20:41:00.006-06:00

At some point after college, I stopped being able to get into the Christmas season as well as I could when school breaks also marked a complete change in pace and a time to decompress. When you only have three days to travel "home" and back because of PTO or a lack thereof, there isn't as much time to slow down and luxuriate in having nothing to do and nowhere to go, and how nice the lights look, and how everything smells like apples and cinnamon. This year I am, admittedly, throwing myself into the pre-holiday activities. Last weekend I saw "The Nutcracker" and put up a (real) tree with my brother. Tonight, the sweatpants are on, the holiday music is on shuffle and I am reading "Little House in the Big Woods" by the tree. I am creating my own damn winter break.

Schlu-u-up!

2010-11-24T21:23:00.005-06:00

...Is the sound the cranberry jelly will make tomorrow when I open it, turn it upside down and hit it a few times with the heel of my hand until it wiggles out onto a small plate, where I will lay it sideways and cut it into slices using the indentations left by the can. It's easily my favorite part of Thanksgiving (besides loose pants). My mom gets me a can of the pink stuff every year, even though I'm the only one who likes it, which makes me feel very special and very parented.

Have a very happy Thanksgiving, wherever you are (and whatever your rituals).

This Marty McFly Costume Has Really Got Me Thinking

2010-10-30T01:39:00.003-05:00

You know, there wasn't really a need for the sequels.* Doc, you don't need to go to the future to get Marty and Jennifer's kids out of trouble. You can just warn them about it, thereby preventing it from happening in the first place, and let those two crazy kids drive to the lake in the 4x4 for the weekend. Because it is the future. I'm no mad genius inventor, but I am pretty sure that means "not happening yet." Start laying opposite groundwork in 1985, and 2015 can just, you know, be different as a result.

*But thank you! They are delightful! And I think III is underrated. Now, where is my Hoverboard?

Life is Amazing, and Time is a Thief

2010-10-27T22:49:00.004-05:00

At the foot of my bed sits a pink and white afghan my grandma knitted me. She wanted me and my brother to each have one (his isn't pink). I clip my cat's claws partly to prolong the life of this blanket. I look at it, and I see my grandma Philomena knitting each stitch, and then I think of paste e fagioli in her kitchen in the summers when we'd stay with her in Cooperstown for Hall of Fame week every year. We'd pile on the grated Parmesan, and she would tell us how during he Depression, you could gauge how an Italian family was doing financially by the pasta::meat ratio in their paste e fagioli. More pasta, maybe not a good week. More meat, they were doing okay. Stories about how her father was a grocer in Toronto during the Depression, and the Irish girls who would wait outside the store for apple cores. And then I think of listening to Dean Martin with her, and watching reruns of "The Nanny," and the smell of the Nag Champa incense she'd light. All her outfits lined up on hangers in her closet, row after row of floaty floral sleeves. My mom's stories about how grandma tried sneaking butter into all my baby food. How surprised I was when I realized she grew up in Canada, that regular people actually grew up in Canada. How she'd give me $3 before I'd bike or walk downtown every day. How she swept leaves off our front walk when she stayed with us for a month when I was 10. The time in sixth grade when I interviewed her for history class and she told me about the day she married my grandpa, and how they had a full Mass, how handsome my grandpa looked in his army uniform and how the newspaper specified he was American in their wedding announcement. And how after my grandpa died she said she'd never remarry because she couldn't imagine becoming accustomed to another man, and another life. And the day she died, and then four years later going through all her things because my aunt, who she'd been living with, hadn't been able to bear to, and getting to know her all over again.

Day One

2010-10-11T22:56:00.005-05:00

Today was my first day at my new job. Did I not blog about quitting my previous job? It was probably because I was too busy dancing in the street. I kid, I kid...ish.

I'm so happy to be at a larger company doing the type of work that I studied to do in college and that I enjoy the most. Previously it was about half what made me actually happy, half duties I can do but that felt like a pair of shoes that were half a size off. In summary, I have a good feeling about this job and the people I'll be working with. I'm genuinely excited to show up to work tomorrow and learn more.

And if that wasn't enough, this morning I was told 1) I could wear jeans every day and 2) that the Chipotle order form for tomorrow's meeting would be coming around soon. Win!

Family Birthday Notes

2010-10-01T00:43:00.004-05:00

Mom:
"It [26] was a big year."

Dad:
"Don't wait on anything. You never feel ready for the big stuff until the unconditional love of having a family makes you capable of things you never thought you were before."

Brother:
"I don't know what I'd do without you."

A very good birthday! Thank you so much to all my friends and family for making this day so wonderful.

It's My Birthday!

2010-09-30T09:55:00.004-05:00

Today I turn 26, at something like 5:38 p.m. CDT (I was born on East Coast time, you know. Empire State forever, etc.). To me, 26 has always been the Adulthood Birthday. My mom was 26 when she had me, so knowing she was married with kids by this age always made me see it as the bare minimum of years I needed under my belt before I would be able to do those things without seeming too young. At 26, I'd be a legitimate adult, old enough for everything.

I've actually been old enough for everything (including lower insurance on car rentals) for a while now, but that hasn't kept 26 from sort of looming out there. When I was little I always wondered what I'd be like on my 26th birthday. What would I be doing as a job? Would I be married? Have a house? Look like a put-together grown-up lady?

Well, let's see. Not married, and no kids, but that's okay. Everything happens in time, and frankly I am still a kid myself. I don't know that I'll feel responsible enough for a while, especially not when I still enjoy regressing and wearing my band sweatshirt from high school as much as I do. At the very least, I think maybe when I stop wanting Swedish Fish for breakfast, that'll be about the time when I start feeling like doing other mature things like marriage and kids.

I live in an apartment (my first without a roommate) and not a house. I bought a new car this year, which made me feel very, very adult. My brother moved to Minneapolis a few months ago, and that makes me feel like I actually, finally have roots in the city I've lived in for 8 years. I hate real pants, but I do manage to put them on and go to work every day.

So am I a real, live adult? Am I at least as mature at 26 as my mom was? I really don't know. Some of the things that make a person a Grown-Up to me, like financial stability, my mom had a leg up on. Her dad was a farmer, so she got a full scholarship for college, whereas the U.S. Department of Education gets a good amount of my money each month. My mom was also married to someone nine years older than her, which I don't know that I would do at this age. She moved on her own from Wisconsin to New York after college to take a job at a newspaper where she'd been hired, sight unseen, on the recommendation of one of her journalism school professors. That's so bold, and I admire it. I only looked for jobs in the same area I went to college in because--wait for it--moving seemed like too much work. Although I was talking to a newspaper in Des Moines for a while. But that's really not the same.

But I really like where I am in life. Separate from my mom's milestones, I think adulthood means being at home in yourself, and I feel closer to that than ever. Not quite there all the way, but I do feel like life gets better and more exciting every day. I love being an active participant in it.

So, this is 26. It's been interesting so far. I had my pupils dilated this morning at an eye appointment, and on my way to work I passed a tanker truck outside a restaurant. I thought the name on the side said "BBQ Pumping," and I got really excited about the idea of a restaurant that would need that much BBQ sauce (and didn't think twice about how likely it was that I was actually looking at a steel tank of it--I just figured maybe that was a thing). But on closer inspection, it said "Boss Pumping." Ah, the joys of compromised vision. I liked what I thought I saw way better.

How To Be Alone

2010-09-16T08:14:00.006-05:00

I don't know about you, but I love being alone. When I was an au pair one summer in college, I spent a lot of my free time taking myself on solo trips to the movies or out to eat. At first, not having many other people my age to spend time with felt isolating, and then after a few weeks it felt more liberating than anything else. I'd take the train from Connecticut to New York City and walk up and down the island all day. Sometimes I'd drive to my aunt's bed and breakfast in Cooperstown for a weekend. The time alone in the car was some of my favorite time I spent out there. There's just something meditative--and hassle free--about spending time by yourself. Six years later, I am still one of my favorite people to hang out with. Yesterday I stumbled across this video and wanted to share. Maybe you love spending time by yourself, too. Maybe you don't. Either way, it's definitely worth a view or two. Enjoy!

I'M the Mary and YOU'RE the Rhoda!

2010-09-02T22:22:00.012-05:00

So, Emily wishes to challenge my status as the new Mary Richards of the Twin Cities. Well! It is on, Bourne. It is on. Growing up to be Mary Tyler Moore is my department, and I don't like it when someone steps on my turf.

Ask me to draw the floor plan of any house she's lived in on any TV show. The Dick Van Dyke Show? Child's play. The Mary Tyler Moore Show? Puh! I will even throw in Valerie Harper's apartment on the spin-off Rhoda as well as Cloris Leachman's house in the other MTM spin-off Phyllis.
When I moved to Minneapolis for college, I was freaking out. But as my dad pulled the minivan off 94-W and toward the West Bank, I started singing the Mary Tyler Moore theme song (she's even on the freeway, heading into Minneapolis, too!) and I felt so freaking empowered by the time we arrived to my dorm (which was located blocks from where Mary Richards' apartment was later in the series).
I have initials hanging on the wall of my apartment and office.
I too gained my professional footing by working on the Twin Cities media scene. Okay, maybe I was an intern at a couple of newspapers vs. a producer at a TV station, but as we all know, Mary Richards lied about graduating college to get her position at WJM, so I think we can call it a draw.
My family has a friend named Chet who looks just like Ed Asner.

So...I think it's clear who's the winner here. Ahem. Don't even try, Bourne. I will knock you back to Rhodasville so fast your head will spin. BAM.

Camping At Home

2010-08-10T21:09:00.009-05:00

The weather tonight is reminding me of the time in college when a storm knocked out our power and it wasn't back up for six days. My roommates and I rallied; it was like we were camping indoors in a big old house. Having the illusion of needing to band together to survive made for some awesome camaraderie. We sat on our hand-me-down sofas, plugging my friend Beth's Sony Watchman with batteries and watching episodes of "That '70s Show" (before network TV was digital). We pooled canned goods to make tuna noodle hotdish and store the leftovers in a cooler full of ice we'd run to the gas station for. I took baths at night, because the tub was near the bathroom window and not in the dark interior like the shower stall, and carried around an iron lantern I'd gotten from a neighbor's garage sale a decade before because blackout or no blackout, I was still a broke college student and didn't want to spend $6 on a flashlight. When we came home, we'd talk or read instead of heading to our separate rooms to hang out in front of our computers. We made good use of daylight. It was more satisfying than it was a hassle, though had the blackout lasted longer, I might have gone a little nutty. It made me feel connected to things I had only read about in Little House books. And it also got us six days of a subsequent Xcel bill prorated, which was pretty flipping sweet. And when our power was restored, it almost felt like too much choice for a day or two. Wait, I can have light when it's dark out? Hmm. I don't know. Maybe I'll just go to bed.

What Year Is This?

2010-08-08T22:35:00.006-05:00

Warning: this entry contains some completely well intentioned profanity.

Maybe friendships that reach full strength at age 15 and continue to be that strong for 10 years and counting operate best when you all forget what year it is and act 15 again. Because standing up as maid of honor at my friend Lynna's wedding two years ago did not bring me the same satisfaction and joy as hanging out in her rec room in our hometown, wearing pajamas, watching cheesy '80s and '90s movies, eating faux cheese (therefore: real cheez) snacks and being completely ridiculous with another one of our friends from a million years ago. Even though she and her husband bought a house and it was their TV room, I kept expecting her parents to come downstairs and tell us to be quiet while we regressed.

However, while he serves as a reminder that this is 2010 and not 2000, her husband is a welcome addition to our group, because he knows exactly how to join in. When he wanted a s'more, he lept up from the couch and yelled "it's s'mores motherfucking time!" He then said that a few more times while running in circles around their German Shepherd and running up to the kitchen with the dog. We followed upstairs and made melty microwave s'mores and ate brownies, while I did a little chant/dance in the kitchen to mark the occasion. You can sing along:

"WHAT motherfuckin' TIME is IT? It's S'MORES motherfuckin' time!"

So...that's what I did this weekend.

UPS' Delivery Protocol Sucks.

2010-08-06T16:51:00.005-05:00

My very nice aunt ordered my an early birthday present and had it sent to me this week. I don't have it yet because, in layman's terms, UPS' delivery protocol sucks.

On Wednesday I got a door tag saying they'd try again Thursday from 2-5 p.m., and after 5 p.m. This happened to work out for me since I had a Comcast service person coming that afternoon. Comcast came; UPS did not. I was home from 2-6:15 p.m. waiting, even prolonging things like doing laundry so I could answer the door if they rang. I left for my evening plans and when I came back I had another door tag, saying they'd be coming by today after 5 p.m.

I made sure to get home by 4:45 only to discover they had actually been by earlier, around 2:15 p.m. Seriously?! I feel like I did everything I could to accommodate those stupid door tags and I am rewarded by having a nice, scenic drive to their facility--on Monday. And here's where it really chafes: to switch the delivery address costs either $4 or $6, depending on how you make the change (phone vs. online). Do I want to pay for the driver to go three miles to my office? NO.

I called today to see if I could make a complaint and was told that "unfortunately, there is no way to make a complaint." Well, UPS, yes there is, and it's called "the Internet." Suck it.

Update: UPS, your protocol may suck, but you have one very nice delivery man under your employ. My buzzer just rang, and when I came to the door he said, "I was still in the neighborhood and I thought I'd see if I could save you a trip." Very nice of him. It does save me a trip!

A Seriously Good Tuesday

2010-08-03T22:57:00.005-05:00

Tonight was just completely enjoyable. I almost feel like I'm on vacation, I'm so relaxed. While I couldn't seem to find anyone to join me, I set out after dinner for a walk and some ice cream. I headed to downtown Linden Hills and got a scoop of Pavarotti (banana, caramel and chocolate) at Sebastian Joe's and ate it sitting outside while reading The Onion and Citypages.

I was walking home along 43rd Street past the library when I saw the Minneapolis Parks & Rec movie screen set up in Linden Hills Park. I walked to the popcorn table and asked what movie was playing, and a very enthusiastic man told me, "Breaking Away. If you haven't seen it, you won't regret it."

Since it's National Night Out and all, there were about 100 block parties happening, but not on my street. "My block is all apartments," I told the enthusiastic man. "People just try to avoid each other."

So I walked a few blocks home, grabbed a blanket and a stadium seat, sprayed myself with DEET (I know, I know--and it's dissolved my toenail polish!) and headed back to the park. And I'm so glad I went! It's a seriously great movie. Everything in it just felt so genuine, and it featured the dad from what might be my number-one movie of all time, Sixteen Candles. As a bonus, it really cooled off after 9 and the world didn't feel like an armpit anymore.

And I walked home around 11 p.m. and felt totally safe (well, maybe a little worried--I'm me, after all) being out by myself for a change. I mean, this neighborhood wouldn't hurt a kitten. While I used to be pretty fearless about walking at night by myself in high school, college made me too sensible and I drive most places after dark now (to be fair, my suburb of Milwaukee is also incapable of hurting a kitten). But I think I was just so relaxed after an impromptu night of ice cream and walking and a good movie that I couldn't be bothered to really worry about it. And walking across a baseball field at night in the summer, kicking up grass clippings with your flip-flops and hearing the crickets chirp, it's pretty much impossible to not relax just a bit. Work has been on the shit side this week and I could have been thinking about that, but I wasn't. Didn't want to. And I'm not going to.

Once Again, My Feelings Are Summed Up By A Web Comic.

2010-07-28T23:49:00.010-05:00

This time last year, I posted a State Fair-related Natalie Dee comic that expressed my general state of mind at any point in July/August. And she's done it again:

nataliedee.com

Oh, am I just going to eat a corn dog or five. That is the first food I consume at the fair each year. They're near the gate I go in, cheap, delicious and set the tone for the day. Corn dogs are just synonymous with the State Fair in my mind. There's nothing like nibbling the last bit of batter from the bottom of the stick before ogling some adorable baby animals in the CHS building.

Last year, I had some key takeaways/notes for improvement. And you best believe I'm already strategizing for next month. Mainly: drinking less milk = eating more food.

Itemizing The Silver Linings

2010-07-27T09:42:00.006-05:00

I'm in a funk this week. I'm moody, I'm covered in horsefly bites, and I just want to curl up in front of the TV/indulge in retail therapy. To help put a smile on my face and turn this crab-fest around, I've been listing the things that are making me happy this week.

Coffee (first and foremost)
My comfy bed
My new orange scarf
Naps
Clean dishes
Olives
Gift baskets at work
Ridiculous Twitter conversations
Remembering the campfire steak and cheesy potatoes from last weekend
The plums and pineapple I got for a steal this week
"January Wedding" by The Avett Brothers
"40 Day Dream" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
The squinty face my cat makes when it's sunny outside
Pop-Tarts
The fresh stack of books to read waiting for me at home
All the sundresses I plan to wear this weekend
My trip to Wisconsin next weekend
My friends' gallery of Comic Book Weddings on their wedding website
Knowing the State Fair (and the livestock/poultry barns and all the delicious food) is just a month away
Update: How could I forget? Classical guitar covers of "Here Comes the Sun" on YouTube are immensely cheering.

What do you find cheering when you're having a bad few days?

I'm All Leg, According To Source

2010-07-25T23:21:00.005-05:00

This weekend's camping trip ended up being completely different than what we planned. First, I had to swap some of the gear I ordered for other, more packable things. Second, one of the people on the trip had her work travel schedule changed, so we went for car camping an hour away rather than a hike-in site four hours away. I was bummed about this at first--I had a new pack to break in!--but it ended up being a very good thing, because third, my new pack tore when I was doing a test pack of all my stuff. And fourth, our friend who had gone early to grab a first-come, first-served site had to leave the site and drive to a store because the sole of her hiking shoe fell off. So, while not the trip we envisioned, it ended up being a good call for many reasons.

Of course, I returned my piece-of-feces pack to REI today (it was purchased online and not one they stock in the stores). Can I just say I love that store? I would like to hang out in it all day and imagine all the trips I could take. And, yes, I'm aware I just nailed what they're going for. I decided to try on some of the packs in the store to see what I might think of getting for next time, and I learned two things about myself from the pack guy helping me out that I would like to stitch on a pillow and look at every day:

I'm extra small...In backpacks, I am as small as they come (thank you, Italian heritage, for my short little Strega Nona torso!). I haven't been an extra small in anything since birth.
...And "all leg." On a related note, my short torso means I am "all leg," says pack guy. At 5'6'', that is not something I hear very often. I love it!

I didn't end up buying a new pack today because I don't have any other hike-in trips scheduled this year, unless we're able to move our reservation for the original trip. I'm thinking of doing one for my birthday, though, so perhaps I can justify the purchase. Pack guy even found a closeout model of the pack I liked on the REI-Outlet site. Maybe it's a sign.

A Wine-Soaked Slumber Party On The Internet

2010-07-22T21:53:00.003-05:00

I was talking online with Art last night about blogs, and blog genres. For instance, journals, which I wouldn't exactly call this, because feeling feelings all over the Internet is not what I do. Perhaps it's more of a log than a journal. Anyhow, I told Art that if my blog were to have a category, it would be a wine-soaked slumber party on the Internet. Art seemed to think I hit the nail on the head, and you know, he's not far off. As his cohabitator Emily will tell you, when I'm sitting on a mattress on the floor in some flannel pajamas with a giant tumbler of Franzia Chillable Red (which, by the way, the website says "pairs well with lighter foods"--like Cheetos?) in my hand and an unchallenging movie playing in the background, the topics of conversation are far reaching, often ridiculous, occasionally deep, mildly personal, and rife with pop culture references. So I have, accordingly, re-subtitled this blog. That's all!

Must Be Something In The Water

2010-07-18T21:07:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I arrived at the family farm and hung out with some of my cousins and their children while we all sat in camp chairs around a Finding Nemo-branded wading pool soaking our feet and drinking Diet Coke. I don't know if it was the heat, the long drive, the spring water in the pool or whatever is found in the magical brew that is D.C., but I had the weirdest dream last night:

I was sitting on a beach hanging out with Tom Hanks, his wife Rita Wilson and his son, Colin Hanks, and Colin put the moves on me a little bit while we watched his dad, who in my dream was also an extremely talented physician/brain surgeon, offer help to a little boy playing in the sand. The boy was not hurt, but his brain was on the outside of his head instead of the inside (I would imagine that if such a condition existed in real life, and you suffered from it, you'd probably want to avoid sandy locations). And just how did Colin Hanks, son of Tom Hanks, put the moves on me in my dream? He tried to hold my hand, but couldn't, because we were each holding one fried ravioli, so we just sat there with the backs of our hands touching. And then I woke up and the first thing I thought was, "But I read he got married this year!" and I felt a little guilty.

Wilderness Shopping Spree

2010-07-14T18:53:00.015-05:00

Earlier this week I was talking sleeping bags on Twitter. I'm going on a camping trip next weekend to Scenic State Park in Bigfork, MN, and have a few more planned for the summer. Last year I borrowed most of my gear for a hike-in trip, but this year I decided to take the plunge and buy my own so that I'm not a mooch every July. Here's what I picked out:

All on sale, and all arriving Friday. I'm excited.

(Also, this is the first Photoshop project I've done on my own. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I'm feeling very of-this-decade for having figured it out.)

Watermelon Killer

2010-07-11T19:21:00.005-05:00

A watermelon killer is on the loose in the Twin Cities. The suspect is about 5'6", mid-twenties, and suffers from a case of Rebellious Summer Hair she hides under Yankees or Twins caps when stalking her victims. She has been known to carve and consume 30 lbs. of watermelon in a seven-day period, requiring it at two meals daily. If you are a 10-15 lb. watermelon priced under $5 and residing in or around the St. Louis Park area, consider yourself at risk for the duration of the summer months. If you believe you are too heavy to be a potential victim, be advised that the suspect possesses storage containers capable of holding up to 20 lbs. of watermelon at one time. Be vigilant.

"I'm Very PRO THAT, Kathy!"

2010-06-27T21:38:00.008-05:00

On Saturday night I went out for dinner at Kieran's and then to the early Kathy Griffin performance at the Orpheum. We were in the most upper balcony and Kathy looked just miniscule. I kept reminding myself that I was watching her live, and not on TV, so I had better pay attention.

But it was hard to pay attention, because seated behind my group of friends and friends of friends was the Drunkest. Girl. Ever. Also, the loudest. Hoooooly cats, you guys. And she seemed under the impression that this performance was a participatory event. And that Kathy Griffin could hear her 1.25 miles below us. Our row kept looking back a her to Minnesota Shush her, which only prompted a "Whatever, deal with it." Her voice was hoarse--like she'd been doing a lot of "Woo!"-ing the night before--and at one point she commented that she could barely talk. Lady, I beg to differ.

Just about everything elicited a "Yeah, Kathy!" at the very least. And then there were the extras.

Kathy: "My mom is tipping that box of Franzia all day long. But she's 90 years old--what am I going to tell her?"
Drunk Girl: "Yeah, Kathy! You let her, Kathy. Yeah."

Kathy: "As you may have gathered, I am not what you might call a big fan of organized religion."
Drunk Girl: "Yeah! I'm very...pro that, Kathy. Totally."

Finally she got the stink eye enough that she shut up for a bit, but not before informing us that "If one more person looks at me sideways, I'm gonna pop them one." I won't lie; after that I was afraid to even look at the girl seated next to me, because I would not have put it past her to cut me.

And then she cried. I heard lots of jagged, heavy breathing and whispering, and her friend telling her "Don't worry about it!" She composed herself (relatively speaking, obviously) and rallied with another "Yeah, Kathy!" and our whole row braced for the second half of the show being just as loud and drunk as the first.

But then, in an unexpected twist, God heard our blue-streaked prayers and got her to leave. Or possibly, made her have to vomit. She careened down her row and stumbled out into the main walkway, swerving left and right (in flat shoes, mind you) and we never saw her again. Well, until the end of the show when everyone made their way down two flights of stairs to the lobby and we spotted her gripping the railings and staring straight ahead, quiet as a drunk, drunk mouse.

I Am a Dirty Old Lady.

2010-06-24T20:37:00.008-05:00

It's been a really busy week at work, which has sapped any inclination I might have had to blog. However, I had to share what happened to me Sunday.

I was at the Mall of America with my friend, doing some damage. It was all well and good until we were at the Gap, where I fell into the chasm of awkward while paying for some cute sandals.

The cashier was an extremely good-looking man. Well, good-looking in the sense that he wasn't scary pretty (I hate pretty men; they make me feel unfeminine) and was wearing plaid button-down, which I have a serious weakness for. And he had some stubble, which I also have a serious weakness for. Moral of the story: I was not unhappy about spending two-and-a-half minutes of my life standing in front of this dude making small talk while he rang up my purchases. And as an added bonus, he kept giving me the "you look really familiar" stare, and then he said, "You look really familiar."

"Did you go to the U of M?" I asked.

"No, I never went there," he said. "I've visited a few times, but I never went there."

My friend had finished paying for her stuff at this point, and came over to where I was standing and killed some time smelling a cologne tester. "Stephanie, this smells really familiar. What does this remind you of?"

I sniffed. "The hallways of our high schools in 1999. It smells like that Tommy Hilfiger cologne every guy wore."

She agreed, and the cute cashier laughed knowingly.

"So did you go to high school around here?" said my friend to the cashier, trying to find out how we might know him.

"Yeah, Eagan," he said.

"What year did you graduate?" she asked.

"2009," he said.

Let that soak in. 2009. 2009. 2009! Do you know what this means? That this "man" was actually a child of 19 or so. I mean, he's legal, but...gross. He easily looked 28. And if he graduated high school in 2009, that means that in 1999, when every boy at my high school smelled like Tommy cologne, he was in second grade. He was not laughing knowingly; he probably just couldn't believe there were people in high school so long ago. And when he said he'd visited the U of M, he didn't mean to a house party. He meant on a tour.

So, it turns out that I am a dirty old woman. It's certainly news to me, believe me. But it gets better. My friend is a high school teacher, and she asked if he'd ever competed in debate or speech. She coaches speech, and I judge both. "Yeah," he said. "Both."

And that, friends, is why I looked familiar to him--I have probably judged him in a round at some point. When he said, "You look familiar," it wasn't an attempt at flirting. He recognized me as an Adult In Charge at a high school activity.

Oh, God. It's been five days and it's still not any less awkward. From now on, I am checking the ID of every man I meet. Because if I can mistake 19 for 28, and there are apparently-grown men in the Twin Cities who I have actually evaluated in an extracurricular, I need all the help I can get.

The Prime of My Mother-Effing Life!

2010-06-16T22:15:00.006-05:00

I got an amazing haircut tonight--easily the best I've had in years. I no longer feel frumpy, or frizzy, or like I ate too much Chipotle for lunch, or crabby or worried about where I'm going in life. Me and my freaking amazing haircut are going to take on the world! Suddenly, I am fiercer, and full of potential, and have good ideas about coordinating outfits and accessories, and my sarcasm is dazzling and I am tossing my curls and walking with purpose because I am only 25, dammit, and I am in the prime of my mother-effing life!

Ahem. In other news, if you need a haircut, I can recommend someone.

The Family Farm

2010-06-16T19:47:00.004-05:00

My mom's parents lived in a town of about 250 in Wisconsin. They lived together on the same farm from the day they married to the day my grandpa died, and after that my grandma stayed until her health took a turn for the worse and she went into hospice care. My grandparents were married for 65 years and my grandma lived on the farm for almost 70.

It's just about the most gorgeous piece of land you ever saw, and I'm so glad to have been able to experience visiting a place like it when I was growing up. There was always something to do or explore--I still haven't seen the whole thing. It's in a valley, and it borders my grandpa's brother's family's farm, and when I was little my grandpa and cousin built a village of wooden teepees in a hayfield, and my grandpa dug a lake in the shape of a Christmas tree once (Christmas Tree Lake, of course). My grandpa had a pickup truck with a horn that played "La Cucaracha," and he'd give us rides in the tractor bucket, and one Easter he tricked me and my brother into looking all over the area between the barn and the granary looking for chicks (he just had one of those tweeting toy chicks you hold in your hand in his overall pocket). My grandma would always put on these huge spreads of really ordinary food, but I loved it. She made the best pickled beets, and because of her dinners I love canned creamed corn. At my brother's graduation party, she and I split a bottle of Leinie's Berry Weiss and I felt like I had the most badass grandma in the world.

My grandma died in 2007 after moving to hospice in 2006, and I haven't been there since before she left. I have missed that farm so much. This summer I'll finally get a chance to go back and I'm a little nervous, because since my grandma left my uncle has lived in the house by himself. She always kept it so clean but from what I hear now it's pretty gross. I know it's been years since my grandma was there, but I have no recollection of it after she went into hospice, so it's fixed in my mind how it was in 2006. Hopefully this is one of those situations where I'm bracing myself for the absolute worst, and it ends up not being as bad as I had pictured. A case of over-worrying, if you will.

I'm going to pick up some furniture from one of the bedrooms and hopefully take a look around the parts of the property I haven't seen yet while I'm there. It really made me sad to think that I would never see the whole place. But next month I get to go back to the town and visit family and see the farm and I seriously can't wait. I feel recharged just thinking about it. The town festival takes place over a weekend and there's a parade and rides and dancing and beer and food--lots of good, clean Wisconsin fun. And good, clean, drunken Wisconsin fun. Once in high school I went on the ferris wheel with my grandpa and he said it was the first time he'd been on one in over 50 years. And the fairgrounds are next to the legion hall, where my brother and I both had our high school graduation parties. This town just never changes--except maybe the name of one of the bars in town--and I'm just so excited to make the drive there again.

The last time I visited the town, for my grandma's funeral, a couple of my cousins and I snuck out for a bit and went two doors down to the name-changing bar ("Alibis" at that time) for a mental health break. I sat down at the counter and the bartender, who it turned out went to high school with my mother, knew whose kid I was immediately. So when I visit, they'll know who's back in town.

Fung Shui This is Not.

2010-06-15T21:27:00.006-05:00

I rearranged my bedroom tonight. It's part of my ongoing overall effort (office speak in real life!) to get my apartment just so. However, I have run into a problem. All of my furniture fit in my room in the previous configuration. Now I have a blue wooden trunk that I've had since (I believe) my 10th birthday that is just in the way and taking up way too much visual real estate. It's bugging me.

But I'm making myself leave it that way for a few days before I bribe a friend with beer to help me move it to my storage space. Whenever I rearrange a room it feels inherently wrong for a while. I'm used to navigating the old setup, especially half asleep, so I'm not going to rearrange again until I'm sure that a little thing like knocking into my furniture in the dark isn't clouding my judgment.

And all of this, of course, was really just a way to keep putting off doing laundry for another night. But in a surprisingly productive turn of events, I did put away the clean laundry I did almost a week ago, so that's something.

Leaving the Stone Age, One Step at a Time

2010-06-13T20:38:00.006-05:00

I've never owned a digital camera. All my friends have cameras, so it's not like there's a shortage of pictures of me on Facebook, but I'm starting to think that maybe it's time. I'm conflicted because I really like relying on electronics as little as possible (which still means I rely on them a lot). Evidence: I waited until 2008 to upgrade my computer from this guy:

Some stuff just seems unnecessary to me, and the fact that I've made it this far without needing a camera (and don't truly need one now, as evidenced by all those Facebook photos) means that I still need convincing. But once I hem and haw and vet and decide I will take the plunge and acquire a new gadget, I usually love it. You'll have to pry my MacBook from my cold, dead hands.

And one nice thing about the Internet is that it's full of people with opinions on things. So, Internet friends, it's time for you to go pretend shopping with money that isn't yours: I'm giving you 200 imaginary dollars to buy a compact digital camera of decent quality and range of function. Which camera(s) would you buy, and why should I take the plunge and buy one?

"I Like Your Shirt"

2010-06-09T19:43:00.005-05:00

There are quite a few kids living in my apartment building. Sometimes the noise of them playing right outside my window is a little much, but they're really nice and seem totally happy to just play in the yard with a ball (the toy of 1,000 games!), which is awesome. This group of kids does not seem to complain about being bored. And they all seem to like each other, and the bigger ones help the little ones get out of the way when someone goes to back out of their parking spot. Moral of the story, they're noisy but overall endearing and smart.

A few weeks ago they were filling up water balloons at the faucet outside the back entrance to my part of the building, and one boy held a balloon out toward me. Oh, crap, I thought. Kid, don't even try it. But he just asked if I wanted to throw one. My heart kind of grew three sizes then because this kid wanted me to join in their water balloon fight and didn't immediately think to pelt the grownups. I declined because I was just taking out the trash before a run (jeez, that sounds boring. Note to self: next time, thrown a damn water balloon, you old lady).

At the time, I had on a blue runners' shirt that my future cousin-in-law Frannie gave me (P.S., click her name and read her super cool new food science/nutrition/Bill Nye-ish blog). A kindergarten-aged girl told me she liked my shirt, and I thanked her. So her big sister jumps in and says, "I like your shirt, too!" like it's a competition in which I am always the winner. I thanked her, too. Flattery will get you everywhere, children. I am not complicated.

I decided to change into a cotton shirt while I was inside. The blue shirt is great for moisture-wicking on long runs but does not always...um...leave much to the imagination...topography-wise. Shall we say. When I came back out with my recyclables, the girls told me how they liked that shirt, too (just a random "event I volunteered at" unisex shirt). These kids were just seeming better and better, even if the outdoor faucet they left running had flattened all the surrounding plants in the time I was inside changing shirts.

So this all happened a few weeks ago. Yesterday when I was leaving for work the two sisters were outside drawing with sidewalk chalk. "I like the shirt you have on now, too!" said the older one.

"Thank you! You like all my shirts, don't you?"

And that is why I like these kids. They like all my shirts!

Comcast, You're a Liar.

2010-06-08T21:00:00.004-05:00

I'm a creature of habit. One of those habits (and maybe I shouldn't admit this, now that I think about it) is watching reruns of "The Simpsons" at 10 p.m. on weeknights. Even in middle school back in Wisconsin, there was usually an episode on around that time Monday-Friday. So we're talking 10-15 years of this habit, which isn't exactly a proud thing (unless you are My Kind Of People), but it does show dedication.

Tonight I turned to channel 10 expecting this to continue, and you know what I found? "The Office." Come on! I mean, I like that show. It will do. But it is no "Simpsons." And there is just about always an episode of "The Office" or "Family Guy" on rerun somewhere at any given time. TBS alone seems to air both of those shows constantly from about noon-11 p.m. every day, supplemented by other stations. You can actually change channels and flip between different episodes of the same shows at multiple points throughout the day. "The Simpsons" had a comparatively small airing of twice a night. And now it's only on once? "The Office" is okay, but it doesn't really merit six times the airings daily as a show that's been on for 20 years and isn't the American remake of anything. And I don't like it as much. So there.

And to really rub salt in the wound, Comcast's online channel listings still show that "The Simpsons" is on in the 10 p.m. timeslot. That just makes it burn!

Update: To use one of my favorite Simpsonian transitions, "and furthermore..." I think what really gets my goat here is that "The Office" is funny but it's obvious. "The Simpsons" has many levels of humor--including obvious, but also subtle, and referential, and clever, and literary, and historical...the list goes on. "That's what she said" is delightful, but it's about as subtle as a brick, and it makes me sad that "The Simpsons" can't compete with that.

How I Know It's Summer

2010-06-01T22:16:00.007-05:00

In the winter, just about any alcohol I consume is in dark beer, red wine, or Bailey's in coffee form. On Saturday night I went to hang out on the rooftop of Stella's with a friend (along with, apparently, everyone in Minneapolis not Up North and/or at The Cabin for the long weekend--I wouldn't have been surprised if the roof collapsed) and that, pals, called for a gin and tonic with the lime slice wrung out on top. Mmm, refreshing. Summer! (Not refreshing? The sight of a girl wearing a romper. In public. On purpose. From behind. Don't do it, kids.)

Of course, those gin and tonics paved the way for me demolishing some nachos and cheese curds at Liquor Lyle's a few hours later, but that sturdy fare is straight up seasonless.

You're Invited, Girlfriend!

2010-05-31T09:05:00.002-05:00

Last night my brother Adam came over to watch Daria and show me around Photoshop some more (when we hang out, he brings himself, and I bring the apartment that is not a suspect summer sublet). As you may recall, learning Photoshop is one of my resolutions for 2010.

Together, this is what we came up with. It's just an informational lecture about some of my key character traits, advertised with Back to the Future-esque font (of course), a cheesecorn background, and a badass unicorn galloping across what is either 1) lasers 2) space/time or 3) a disco floor (if only I had taken the time to extend it across the bottom of the flier!). But overall, I think it really communicates what such an evening would entail. My brother is kind of awesome.

New Slang: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

2010-05-30T16:15:00.007-05:00

A "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern" is my term for a boy from one's past who resurfaces randomly in the present (on the main stage), thus blowing the idea that he was relegated to a specific time/place in one's life (in the wings). For instance: the boy I flirted with in my geology class freshman year of college, whom I only knew within the boundaries of that class, and then ran into years later. It was actually shocking to see him in the real world, not taking notes about rock formations--sort of like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs, to paraphrase "Mean Girls."

Back to the present. Thanks to Emily, I have a deep and abiding love for Cute Boys With Cats. It's like an online catalog of handsome, cat-loving imaginary men! It gets me right where I live. All you know about these boys is their first names and the name(s) of the cat(s) accompanying them (and occasionally that they have girlfriends or wives, which is understandably disappointing and ruinous to the fantasy). Half the charm is not knowing anything more about them. It's just good clean eye candy.

So you can imagine how jarring it was to stumble across a (very smart and nice, in case you are shopping the man catalog) boy I dated about 100 years ago (you know, in 2003) on the site. Uh-oh! Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are appearing in the wrong scenes! Confusing!

But look at the kitty!

Good Gravy, Bally's is Disgusting.

2010-05-24T19:59:00.004-05:00

High points from tonight's visit to Bally Total Fitness:

The used panty liner in the first locker I opened.
The otherworldly body odor eminating from someone in the upper level. That stank was thick enough to chew. It actually made me look forward to running, when I mainly breathe through my mouth anyway.

It's 90-something degrees and 80-something percent humidity today, and the inside of Bally's didn't feel much better than the outside. Not a good gym day, but I'm glad I went, on principle. If not in practice.

In Which I Rant About Computer Cars

2010-05-21T12:19:00.003-05:00

I've gone on at length about my previous car, a 1997 Dodge Neon. It definitely had its problems, but one thing it had going for it was how simple it was. No power anything means no electrical problems. It had some sensors to deal with (once I had to replace a sensor on the radiator), but really, the issues I ran into with it were limited to the moving parts. That car was to the point.

I love my new-to-me car. It's fun to drive, loaded with safety features and I don't have to worry (knock on wood) that it will need $600 of surprise engine work at any given moment. However, I'll be driving a loaner over the weekend while Mazda finishes up a repair that has taken weeks to resolve.

On my test drive, the tire pressure light on the dash flickered a bit. The salesman assured me this happens in winter; the system is sensitive to even small fluctuations in pressure, and cold temperatures can lead the air in your tires to contract, affecting what the tire pressure monitoring system reads as your tire pressure. I have friends who drive Mazdas, and they vouched for that, so I wasn't too worried. The light still flickered after the weather warmed up, though, so I brought it back and it turns out that the sensor behind the dash that gets the data from the sensors in the tires (TOO MANY SENSORS!) was failing. Nothing is wrong with my tires. They're not actually leaking air. But because of this little chip, that annoying yellow light comes on every couple of minutes.

So initally Mazda wanted to wait for a lease return of my car, so they could take a part from a vehicle still under warranty. That was cool with me; I just wanted it fixed free of charge. And the broken part is really pretty useless--like a spleen or something. So I dropped if off yesterday. First they had the wrong part. Then they got the right part. Then software wouldn't download to the part, so they gave me a loaner for the night. And now it turns out they have to order a new part after all, so I'll get my car back on Monday. Kind of a hassle, but the repair will ultimately be free to me, plus they gave me a full tank of gas and a car wash for my trouble. I'm placated, and coming out ahead when I factor in the gas and the trip to Wisconsin that I'll be making in their car, not mine, thus saving miles to my car.

But really, this would all be avoided if people were not so sissified by modern cars. Half of the things on my car that I will eventually need to fix don't serve any essential function, but you can't get a car without this stuff anymore. You don't need a computer chip to tell you if your tires are low. I mean, what did people do before TPMS became so common? Use their eyes? To look at their tires like some peasant? Worse yet--actually touch their tires to check for resistance? Use a tire gauge? Forget cars and just ride wooly mammoths to work? What dark, dark, pre-millennial times we lived in!

Plz To Has Motivation?

2010-05-18T22:53:00.003-05:00

I need motivation to run lately. It has been two weeks since I've gone for a run, and even though it was very enjoyable I keep finding reasons not to do it again. But I still have a somewhat reasonable level of fitness and I am committed to running a 5k in July. I belong to a gym, where there are many treadmills, and I live near Lake Harriet, which has a very scenic, almost-5k path around it. And my running shoes have plenty of life left in them. So, friends, Internet friends, and Internet strangers, what works for you? I need a push to get back into a good running routine.

Talk amongst yourselves (hey, I never promised my references would be current).

The Source Of All Deliciousness.

2010-05-11T22:25:00.009-05:00

So, you like food? Tasty food? And eating that food? It's pretty cool. And chances are, if you answered "yes" to at least one of these questions, you have tried--and enjoyed--prosciutto.

If case you did not know, prosciutto is a cured ham product that hails from Italy. Italians make it over the course of about ten months, using natural temperature and air quality fluctuations, and lots of salt, in order to dry and cure the meat. It is, technically, a raw food, and suitable for raw foodists, but if you told that to one you would probably get an eye roll and a huffy "but that's not the point."

Right?! Right.

I was in Iowa this past weekend for my cousin's fiancee's graduation (she's younger than me and has a Ph.D. Oh, God. What have I done with my life?)/a mini family reunion. My aunt and uncle were there, and upon arriving in Ames I was told that my options for activity Saturday morning were to go on some nature walk (the outdoors? Gross!) or tour a prosciutto processing plant.

At least, I think that's the phrase for it (prosciutto plant? Curing house? Salumi saloon?). And naturally I chose that option for Saturday morning, as did my vegan brother, because he didn't know anyone going on the nature walk and didn't want it to be awkward. So he toured rooms full of raw meat.

My uncle is a food scientist for a company in California that makes a lot of prepared foods for stores like Trader Joe's (he is personally responsible for many of their hummus varieties) and arranged this tour partly for professional reasons but partly because, hey, what self-respecting person who eats wouldn't want to see many hams turning into many cured hams? Even the vegan wanted in!

The company is called La Quercia (The Oak) and it's located near Des Moines. It was founded about 10 years ago by Herb and Kathy Eckhouse, and they have tens of thousands of hams on the premises. There are four main rooms, each of which mimics the climate qualities of a different season, starting with winter. Each of these rooms is sealed with an Italian refrigeration door, but a little bit of air escapes whenever one is opened and the main hallway area connecting the rooms reminded me of nothing so much as being by the ocean. You can breathe the salt in. And pork essence. The air had a fine, salty, porky quality about it. I could not. stop. inhaling.

And the air became even more like inhaling little molecules of meat as Herb showed us through the other rooms. Seriously, I could practically eat the air. These hams looked--and smelled--delicious. It was so hard to not try to fit one in my purse while Herb looked the other way. I don't think he'd have noticed--in one room alone he estimated there were 25,000 prosciutto hanging on racks. On a side note, I am now confident that when I go to Heaven (because I am awesome) it will look like that room. And in addition to the prosciutto, La Quercia also makes pancetta (bacon's fancier, more European, cousin!) and whole-leg, foot-on cured hams from pigs that spend the last six months of their lives living in Spain and Italy, eating acorns. I'm almost jealous of them. Maybe after I spend time in my version of Heaven I can be reincarnated as one of these pigs. I mean, I've never been to Europe.

That night we got pizza from a Punch-like place in Ames, and one of the pies had La Quercia prosciutto on it. The verdict? DUDES. It's as good as it smells. It practically dissolves in your mouth. I recommend it. If you would like to find it locally, you can get it here.

And in proof that it is, indeed, a small world, when I told my dad where we'd gone on Saturday, he told me that he knew Herb. The guy opened his house to my dad a few years ago when their mutual friend, a columnist at the Des Moines Register, died and my dad needed a place in town to stay. So not only does this place have good ham, they're good people.

Best Possible Outcome.

2010-05-06T15:50:00.003-05:00

Yay! My clothes are back! None of my underwear is being sold on Craigslist.

A woman in another unit knocked on my door to say that her boyfriend had grabbed my clothes from the washers by mistake. "Are you the one who lost their clothes? Yes? Oh, I am going to kill him!"

I'm so glad to not have to deal with insurance or buying new clothes. Neighbor lady was right: "Girl, no one has money to just be replacing clothes like that." Damn straight.

So now I have my clothing back, having gone through the character-building exercise of sifting my underpants from her laundry in her living room. Special times, special times.

Now I'm Just Afraid To Do Laundry.

2010-05-06T12:28:00.003-05:00

Last night someone stole a load of my clothes from the laundry room in my apartment. There was maybe 30-45 minutes between when I put quarters in the dryer and when I went back down to discover that things were missing, so I didn't leave them there for a day and beg for this or anything.

I'm pretty shocked--as you know, I investigated to make sure this was a safe neighborhood before I moved in. And who takes someone's clothes? Unless we're the same size, you can't use them. And if you just felt like stealing a load that included some of my underwear, you are a creepy, creepy creeper. Ew. The whole thing feels really violating.

I put a note on the dryer, and on the mailboxes in my building, letting people know what had happened and to watch out. And also to ask for my clothes back, because you never know. I'm hoping it was a mix-up, and some girlfriend had told her boyfriend to "get the clothes from the dryer" and he just got ALL of them from ALL the dryers, and they'll reappear at some point. But more than likely, I am just never seeing them again, including the new pair of pants I hadn't even worn yet.

So, here is my dilemma: I have renter's insurance, but do I file a claim? I did file a police report last night, and the officer estimated my loss at $800. My deductible is $500. I'm not even entirely sure what was in the load--a little bit of everything. I tend to go a long time in between trips to the laundry room, so we're talking pants, shirts, exercise wear, the aforementioned underwear, towels, etc. I'd come out ahead after paying my deductible, but only by $300. And my agent says this could cause an increase in my premium if I ever get homeowner's insurance.

So, Interwebs, I'm putting it to you: file a claim, or no? Have you ever had a similar experience? I'd like to hear your thoughts.

Ladydate!

2010-05-04T22:54:00.006-05:00

What a good night. I am back in the swing of running and doing not-embarrassing distances, and Emily and I had a lovely Ladydate to which I contributed wine and she contributed a pizza she made.

The wine helped us talk about feeling feelings and the night totally devolved into a slumber party. We talked about boys, and babies, and making out, and whether I should cut my hair (and if so, what to do with it). We talked about our athleticism goals, and friends, and Internet friends, and weddings, and how "The Biggest Loser" is totally inspiring until the contestants start approaching your weight and you are faced with the contrast between their level of fitness and yours and suddenly it isn't as fun to get McDonald's before you watch because you are What Is Wrong With America. And then we talked about boys some more. The whole night made me think of my college friend Ben, who did a mean impression of all ladies. It went like this:

"Diet Coke! Ranch dressing! Boyyysssss!"

I'm so pleased with how this night turned out. My day started off kind of rough, mainly because I stayed up so late reading the pile of new books I got last night that my face hurt all day from being tired and I didn't know if I had energy to do anything more tonight than nap on my sofa to the dulcet tones of "The Simpsons." So now I am that obnoxious girl that vouches for the energizing powers of a good run. Sorry.

Adventures in Babysitting

2010-05-02T22:29:00.004-05:00

I was pretty awful to babysitters when I was younger. My brother and I locked a sitter in the basement once, and another time I locked myself in my room after smearing Noxzema cream all over the outside of my door (it smelled bad? I don't know...). Truly, karma should have sent me a steady stream of consistently terrible children to deal with. While there have been a few choice adventures over the years, I really have lucked out.

Saturday night I watched four kids. There was a little bickering (boys vs. girls!) but mostly we just used sidewalk chalk, ate pie and watched Disney Channel. Oh, and there was one piggyback ride that resulted in a double-decker Velociraptor impression. When bedtime rolled around, they were supremely cooperative.

When I checked on them later I noticed the sign on the boy's bedroom door:

boy's territory

O.M.G.

Way better to come across on a kid's door than half a jar of smelly face cream.

Dear Ladies Whose Bodies Are Perfectly Fine and/or Ladies Who Make My Weight Their Business

2010-04-30T13:20:00.008-05:00

Dear Ladies Whose Bodies Are Perfectly Fine and/or Ladies Who Make My Weight Their Business,

Hey. Hi there. I know you. Sometimes I am you! But I really try not to be.

Here's the thing, my trim friend: When you bash your body and point out your flaws, it makes me feel like crap. I don't wish to engage in this dialogue anymore. We've all had this conversation practically twice a day since birth. So for me, that means I have spent a QUARTER OF A CENTURY hating on, and bitching about, my body and the bodies of others. And you know what? I'm done.

I'm not a big lady, but I do happen to be taller and heavier than most of my friends. So hearing what is most likely a petite girl complain about her thighs or butt or whatever when her swimsuit stash is comprised solely of bikinis is 1) not convincing, because I have EYES and 2) really depressing, because if you feel that way about your body, who knows what you must/I should think about mine. Even if you were twice my size, it would still not be a constructive dialogue for either of us. The comparison game is never, ever good.

This conversation is boring! And as long as you're healthy and your weight isn't putting you at risk, can we just all recognize that our bodies are capable? And at our/my age, they're actually as capable as they'll ever be. Can we just enjoy that? Like for five seconds? It seems that somewhere along the way it became taboo to just like yourself. But just because it's swimsuit season, or you're getting married, or you have a gym membership, that doesn't mean your body is an ongoing improvement project. You don't "fix" one thing only to single out the next thing you need to "fix." Bodies aren't projects! They carry us around and let us experience the world, so please just shut up already about how fat you are because 1) You're really not 2) No, really. You're not. 3) This conversation is so, so, SO boring and 4) Do you want to spend the next quarter century in this cycle of "not good enough"?

When you say you're a heifer and point out your totally normal, fits-in-pants-so-it's-not-bigger-than-a-butt-should-be-allowed-to-be behind as evidence, what am I supposed to do? Agree? Compliment you? Either way, it's BS, and boring, and not good for anyone.

And why is it that if I appear to have lost a few pounds, it needs justifying? If I say, "Well I started going to my exercise class again and am working on another 5k," that seems snooty. ("Well you could be down a few pounds, too, if you put down that muffin and went to the gym!" Ugh.) Also, is it your business? Is it a compliment? An accusation? Do I need to deny it? JUST STOP. In this world, many things are your business, but my pants size does not fall into that category. Sorry.

Okay, for now I've run out of steam. FOR NOW. But, seriously. I can't think of anything more boring, or annoying, than how fat you perceive yourself to be. And that includes when I do it. I bore myself! Can we all just call a truce on this for a while and talk about something interesting, like cats? Awesome.

xoxo,
Stephanie

Dear Caribou Coffee

2010-04-27T12:17:00.005-05:00

Dear Caribou Coffee,

You and I got off on the wrong foot. My first experience with you was via a sickly sweet white mocha that was the catalyst for me despising white chocolate. Many of your drinks are so flavored and sugary, I am convinced we could all swill hummingbird nectar and save ourselves some money. However, you were very helpful the time I needed to bring a tote of coffee to my friend Andrea's hospital room the day after she had her baby, and it was so nice of you to brew the coffee fresh for me. It was a hit, and all of her under-slept relatives really appreciated it.

And now you're near my house. I'll be honest; you're still not my first choice. You're so fake-woodsy. I'd rather have genuinely yuppie than fake woodsy. And yet, you're growing on me. However! How do you reward my change of affection? BY CHARGING ME SIX DOLLARS FOR A LATTE. A LATTE! DUDES. Time to adjust your prices.

I used to work as a barista. I know for a fact that it takes under two minutes to make a latte, so I know you're not billing me for the staff's time. I also know that ingredients are cheap. Today I ordered a large soy hazelnut latte. I was not trying to be trendy by ordering soy; my stomach does not do well with cow's milk and I did not wish to inflict that upon my coworkers. Perhaps you think this is 1999 and ordering a soy beverage is crazy trendy and deserves an upcharge. Well, think again. You can get soy milk for the SAME PRICE as cow's milk at the grocery store. Sometimes cheaper. So I had to pay extra just because I didn't want to be all farty at work. Thanks, dudes. (This paragraph really goes out to all coffee shops, but is directed at you today. Be ahead of the curve and FIX THIS PROBLEM. Think of the extra business this would earn you. You're everywhere! You'd be a pioneer! Just like Wendy's was with their dollar menu. McDonald's and Burger King followed right quick. Drive the trend, Caribou. Drive the trend!)

And the syrup charges! This I can understand a little more than the milk upcharge (because you actually NEED SOME KIND OF MILK to make a latte. Don't make me pay more for the MAIN INGREDIENT just because I need the kind that makes me non-farty), but still. Sweet Jebus. Sugar and fake sugar packets are free, and this is essentially flavored sugar and fake sugar in liquid form. Next time I will forgo flavoring and dump in some Splenda and save myself some damn change. Because what started at a steep but doable $3.50-ish beverage soon escalated to $5.46, and dudes? I could buy a whole breakfast, including coffee, at McDonald's for that. Or a sandwich ANYWHERE. Or just save my money and MAKE MY OWN DAMN COFFEE.

I just wanted to treat myself this morning since I didn't get much sleep last night and it's been a rough couple weeks for me. But now I am out almost six dollars and just feel insulted. Maybe other people don't know how cheap and easy to make lattes are. I don't know. But consider me chafed.

xoxo,
Stephanie

Things I'm Happy About Today

2010-04-23T12:42:00.004-05:00

Happy Friday! I'm so excited to have two days all to myself. This weekend I'm helping a friend shop for her wedding dress (I'll be the wry member of the group keeping it real and making fun of doves flying out of cages and other wedding trappings, while providing a keen eye on pretty dresses), babysitting for some truly fun (and literate, God bless them!) kids, maybe buying some new shoes, and I think I might just squeeze a run in there somewhere, too.

Since Friday is the best day ever (except Sundays, of course), I thought I'd list some of the reasons that I am in a good mood today:

The spicy ginger tea I picked up at the grocery store last week. I brought a lemon in my lunch bag today, and it's making my afternoon at work so tasty.
Last night I had happy hour with some wonderful ladies I met at my internship at Big PR a few years ago. It was so much fun to catch up and pretend we just got out of college and aren't grownups yet.
I rearranged my living room furniture a little last night and am starting to arrive at some decisions to resolve my big decorating dilemma (thank you all for the help by the way!)
My new purple Adirondack chair for my balcony. It makes me so happy. Such a cheerful color, and it makes me think of my grandparents' house in the Adirondack mountains and visiting them every summer.
Winning free tickets to Rock for Pussy VII. Remember how much fun I had last year? It will be like that, but MORE, because Emily has promised not to drink so much she has to sneak out early again. Also Art, Conner, and Beth and Jeremy will be there!

What are you looking forward to this weekend?

Welcome to Minneapolis

2010-04-19T09:40:00.004-05:00

Because of ridiculous construction-related traffic on I-94, I got back home around 11 last night. Not bueno, dudes. Not bueno.

After dropping off my brother at his place I headed down Lyndale and turned onto Lake on the way to my apartment. A couple blocks after the Bryant Lake Bowl, I had to swerve suddenly (good thing the roads were empty because it was 11 p.m. on a Sunday [grumble]) to avoid a situation that I would probably place at the bottom of any "likely to happen in Minneapolis" list: a rickshaw. Stopping in the middle of the street to pick up two persons. Being pulled by another person.

I just wanted to share. Has anyone else seen Minneapolitan rickshaws? I am intrigued.

Road Trip!

2010-04-16T14:15:00.008-05:00

In a an hour or so I'm hitting the road (first road trip in my new car!) with my brother and heading back to Wisconsin for the weekend. It will be so nice to pick up where I left off with friends from high school, go to Costco with BFF and wander around, watch movies, and basically have a 48-hour slumber party. I really hope I don't have to spend much time wearing real pants (that attitude seems to be a trend with these visits).

Weekends back home are so recharging. Have a great weekend!

Secret Talents

2010-04-13T23:28:00.006-05:00

Last night I remembered a secret talent I forgot I had. During my final semester of college, I took a horseback riding class at a stable in Wisconsin every Sunday. One of the first things our instructor did after finally letting us mount our horses was to make us turn in a full circle in the saddle (the horse stayed put). Piece o' cake! It took two seconds. And then she had us do the same thing again, this time with no hands.

I remember thinking, Um, pardon, lady?

But I did it. It seems minor when I type it, but when I remembered last night that I know how to turn 360 degrees in the saddle, hands-free, without falling off my horse, I felt a little badass. And at the time, I can guarantee you I felt like I could conquer the world.

I remembered all this while thinking about how excited I am for the riding classes I bought the other week on Groupon. I can't wait to brush up on my skills and hopefully spend some time riding outside now that the weather is nice.

So, tens of readers, I already know that you're great for interior decorating advice and giving carpinions, but what are your other secret talents? Do they make you feel secretly badass, too?

Apartment Advice?

2010-04-11T20:57:00.003-05:00

I've been in my new place for one month now, and I am finally, 100 percent settled in. You know how it goes--you have to get your closets set up in a way that is actually useful, you realize a bunch of stuff can just go in your storage space, etc. It's nice to have the last boxes cleared out of my living room and just enjoy the place.

However, now that I'm settled in, my mind has wandered to the next step, which is actually decorating my three rooms. I've done a little bit in the living room by picking out some lamps and pillows, but other than that, this place is very beige. Tan carpet and off-white walls. To top if off, my couch has a cream-colored slipcover and I have white bedding. So, not a lot of color happening here, and I need ideas to tone down the institutional vibe of the place.

Some background information: My property management company does do custom colors on the walls, but only if you choose one of the 10 colors they offer. And somehow, none of those 10 colors looked good to me--it was either dark brown, bright green, a weird shade of blue, etc. And my living/dining areas are all in one open room, so it's not like I can just have a red dining room or something. So the walls pretty much have to stay as-is, unless you all want to come over and do the painting--and priming over it when I move out--for me. So whatever color I add has to be in the form of furniture, wall decor, rugs, or other accent pieces.

Anyway, I like the idea of incorporating some bright pops of color, and I figure that somewhere out there on the Internet are other people who have lived in similar beige-y apartments and might have ideas. Plz to has input!

And, I'm Back.

2010-04-07T21:26:00.006-05:00

I've been off the map for a little while, so I wanted to write a quick note and explain the absence. Some things have happened recently that a) required some blog housekeeping and b) mostly fall under the "do not blog" header. It's been kind of a rough couple weeks, but here I am.

But it hasn't all been bad, by any means. Lots of good things have been happening, too, and I'm looking forward to sharing some of them again. Just today I overheard the most charming old people in the bagel aisle at the supermarket. They hadn't seen each other in a while and were so excited! "Well isn't this aisle just the place to be! This is just wonderful!"

I can't wait! Just 50 more years.

Life Plans

2010-03-25T09:37:00.009-05:00

First of all, blog? What blog? I have a blog? It seems moving and setting up shop in the new place takes a lot of time and energy. I mean, I actually used a measuring tape and level to hang photos correctly instead of eyeballing it. And that's not exactly interesting blog material. Oh, hey guys, it turns out pictures are way straighter when you make sure they're level, so I have lots fewer holes in my drywall here than at the last place. Let me tell you all about my tools and how fun it is to use math for simple household tasks. Type type type.

However, after reading this post by Emily (no, not this Emily) on childhood wish lists, I felt a little inspired again. I remembered that when I was five, I couldn't decide if I wanted to marry Dr. Seuss, or just grow up to be Dr. Seuss. I figured he seemed like a pretty cool guy, but I also thought that "being Dr. Seuss" was some sort of official position, like Poet Laureate or artist in residence. And I figured I had plenty of time to work on being the new one.

That's my man.

I also wanted to go to the New Kids on the Block concert, like my cool older (third grade) neighbor Amanda B....

It was not enough just to have their cassette tape, beach towel, sleeping bag OR concert video.

...to have a canopy bed; not to have pink carpet and walls in my room; and to wear lots of bike shorts, Teva sandals and Chuck Taylors.

My mom nearly killed me when I lost one crazy expensive sandal at the local pool.

I wanted braces or a retainer, because I wanted to change my rubber band colors. Or at the very least, to break my arm, so I could have a hot pink cast.

So jealous, still. Kids with casts became totally popular at school.

Oh, and I always asked my mom and dad to rent She's Having a Baby from Blockbuster. I don't know.

What was on your childhood wish list?

Shamed by Google

2010-03-16T22:05:00.003-05:00

It's one of my many dream vacations to camp my way through national parks in the U.S. and Canada. To help with my daydreaming, I Googled "travel yosemite park." What did Google suggest, based on previous searches I've made?

Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show.

Fair enough, Google. Fair enough.

First Meal in My New Place

2010-03-16T21:02:00.006-05:00

Last night I finally went grocery shopping. Seriously, I have never eaten so many McMuffins without cheese in my life as I have this week. It was getting to be a desperate situation.

I decided to make myself salmon, a mashed yam and salad. Nom nom nom.

Excuse the crummy photo. I am still rocking a cell phone camera. Because it is 2004.
Note my grandma's Medaglia D'Oro espresso tray. It makes eating in front of the TV so much easier!

It was so nice to break in my kitchen and cook an actual meal of actual food without a lot of fuss. It's like I've marked my territory now. My apartment. Mine!

98% Moved

2010-03-14T21:53:00.006-05:00

Oof. Dudes. What a few days. Moving is like working out for three days straight. But 1) I don't feel this wiped when I work out and 2) this totally means I don't need to work out for a while, right? Even if I did eat about a whole pizza today because I haven't had time to grocery shop yet.

On Thursday I did a little working from home and a lot of packing. On Friday, I took three car loads (hatchbacks are seriously so great. I'm so pleased with my new car right now) over to my new apartment, and later brought over my newly Craigslisted dresser, plus an entire other carload of my stuff, with some help. And I sold my old IKEA computer cart for $20 to a nice lady. I also got Chinese food and had a picnic on my living room floor while drinking wine and watching basic cable. Then I unpacked like a madwoman to get my bedroom and kitchen in functioning shape so that I could get up at 6 a.m. Saturday and drive to one of the southern suburbs to judge a high school speech tournament.

On Saturday, I left the speech tournament around 2 p.m. and took a nap on the couch at my old apartment, then brought over another carload to my new place. After a trip to Target for a few essentials (okay, more than a few) I was set up to bring over Catface, who is still excited about all the new smells to smell here.

Then this morning I went over to my old place to throw out a few things before going to U-Haul for my cargo van. My nice neighbor (whom I will miss because of the extensive niceness) helped me load up the van with my furniture. I sold my IKEA bed to a nice lady from the Internet and gave her my mattress and memory foam topper for free. She said if they don't end up using it, they can burn it, since they live in "the country."

My friend Mary came over to help lift things, and she is surprisingly scrappy and strong for such a petite girl. She's 2/3 my size but lifted the same amount of couch that I could. This makes me think maybe moving doesn't count as working out and I should actually, you know, work out. (Plus, that whole "entire pizza in one day" thing.) And then we brought over ANOTHER car load. But that's okay, because now I have most of my furniture! And therefore something to sit on while I watch basic cable on a bigger TV.

So, what's left at my old place? My wall art, my bowling balls, my bike, some cleaning supplies, end tables, vases (roommate and I still need to figure out which are whose) and a ton of other stuff that I can't remember but I will sloppily pack before the end of the month. It was weird seeing the living room empty.

So far I like the new place a lot but there are a couple kinks to work out, so I'll get to see how my new rental company's maintenance checks out. And the list of items I need to get at Target keeps growing, not shrinking, so I've got this whole money pit thing going on that's really cool. But the weather is gorgeous, and I got to be outside in it all day because of moving. I'm just so glad to be moved and start settling in and making this place feel like home. My cat certainly has--it's only been a day and she's already scratched the carpet and licked herself inappropriately in every room!

Life is Expensive!

2010-03-10T09:58:00.006-06:00

As I get closer to my move (Friday! And Sunday! But not Saturday, because I'm judging high school speech!), I am realizing more and more how skewed my perceptions are on what life should cost. Last night I went shopping for a mattress and possibly a couch, and ended up paying so much for a mattress (that was already on closeout!) that it scared me away from buying any more furniture.

Somehow I thought I could get away with paying $300 for a mattress set and have it be comfortable and high quality. Well, let me tell you about the $300 mattress sets. They're either wicked springy and squashy, or they come stacked in suspicious piles in the middle of a Home Goods store and you can't try them out. I ended up paying about three times that (including a bed frame, delivery and tax) for an excellent queen-sized set. And it FREAKED ME OUT. But considering my current bed situation is a free mattress with a memory foam topper I got as a gift on an $80 IKEA bed frame, anything above $80 was going to shock me anyway.

After I finished calling friends to freak out, I stopped feeling like I was going to cry every time I looked at my receipt. When I bought my computer a year or so ago, I had a similar moment of needing to rationalize spending more at once than I ever had in my life. But prior to that, my computer was a blue Jeff Goldblum-in-the-commercials-era iMac I'd gotten from a former coworker for $55. So I think this is just another case of me needing to just get the eff over it and realize that becoming an adult with non-crappy life items is not free. And if I'm going to spend a lot of money on any furniture, it's going to be my mattress, considering how much I hate getting out of bed. And after less than three years, it will be a dollar per day if we look at this purchase in my favorite way, which is price per use.

While I'm happy to have a great new bed, this means I'm holding off on getting a couch. Instead, I'm getting a slipcover and a U-Haul and keeping my current one, which was free to begin with.

So am I the last person on Earth to learn that life costs money? Did anyone else experience it as kind of a cruel slap in the face? I'm filled with a new appreciation for my parents buying enough furniture to fill each of their houses growing up. No wonder they made me support my own clothes habit in high school.

I Am a Wimp.

2010-03-05T11:48:00.009-06:00

This morning, I went to bring a bag of garbage back to my Dumpster. I move in a week and every day I swear there are three bags of crap I've found to get rid of. As I approached the Dumpster, I noticed squirrels scurrying up the sides, which kind of grossed me out, even though squirrels are adorable. But one time I lifted the lid and was greeted by a sleepish raccoon who was all, "O hai! I'm sleeping in your trash!" so I'm skittish about animals that subsist on garbage.

In addition to the squirrels, there was a wild turkey scrounging around this morning. What the heck? Turkeys are so large that it freaks me out if I think to hard about how they're birds. And this one was right by the Dumpster. And where there's one there must be more. Between the rodents and the large fowl, I couldn't bring myself to get close enough to open the lid. I just couldn't do it. I was afraid of squirrels and a turkey. I tossed the garbage bag at the base of the Dumpster and turned on my heel and got away from there. The whole time I was telling myself that despite their size, turkeys are not birds of prey, and birds might not even be able to carry rabies anyway, so I'd be okay. But I could not escape the thought of a rabid, scrappy turkey tackling me from behind.

I am a wimp.

Reassurance to the Bride

2010-03-04T22:43:00.006-06:00

Tonight at Target I was shopping for a birthday card for my cousin. He recently got engaged, and I toyed with the idea of getting a belated engagement card, too. I didn't, mainly because it's just about impossible to find a wedding-related card that isn't too schmaltzy or generic to really feel right to give people I actually know. Like, everyone I know will likely get the exact same cards for their respective weddings, because they're the only ones that pass muster. I would have felt better getting some breakup card that said "Boys are the worst! Let's eat ice cream and talk about how we've evolved past needing them!" and assuming they got the joke. Anyway.

While in the wedding portion of the greeting card department, I discovered a category I never knew existed. You know the pieces of cardboard behind cards that label the categories? I shit you not, I stumbled upon "Reassurance to the Bride."

Reassurance to the Bride.

It's actually pretty smart, and a largely untapped market, I'd imagine. Bridal reassurance! The best thing of all was how completely, totally unsubtle it was. Like, it was as nuanced as an elbow to the face. "I've never seen you happier." "You glow with love." "I can tell you're going to have such a great, long future together." "Your true love for him shines from within and is a beacon of enduring marriage." I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea.

Honestly, it made my night. A night which included a surprise trip to the 5-8 Club with Roommate.

But the moral of the story is that I got my cousin a card with dinosaurs all over it. Naturally.

Who's Got Two Thumbs and a New Car? THIS GIRL.

2010-02-26T20:56:00.006-06:00

Great news! I finally bought a new car!

After getting back from my work conference on Wednesday, I got to work. I have been researching models and figuring out what I can afford for what feels like forever. On Thursday I got approved for a loan and went shopping. I happened to find one of my top choices (based on online research) with a ton of features right at the price point I was looking for. And it's fun to drive and (relatively) inexpensive to insure to boot. So I went back today and made it mine.

I decided to go with a 2008 Mazda6 hatchback sedan. I didn't even know that hatchback sedans were a thing, but I'm really excited about its IKEA trip potential. And the extra size and safety features of this versus some of the smaller models I was interested in means it's something that will be really versatile over the time I own it (ideally for the next decade).

To clarify, I don't generally support buying a car so quickly. But, truly, I have been budgeting, researching and test-driving since 2008, so I don't think I exactly rushed into it. And I chose a car with just about every safety feature possible, and good mileage, and ample trunk space. There's no used-car factory, and I happened to find exactly what I wanted, so I went for it.

It's been a really tiring day, though. A lot of paperwork and parting of monies, and driving--three trips across the metro area today, plus the shorter drives from dealership to insurance agent. I drove my new car home and left the Neon at the dealer, and then went back to pick it up tonight. And I can tell I'm getting sick. I managed to stick it out through some crazy hours at my conference this week, but now that I'm back I think my body is getting back at me for that. And I'm thinking ahead to my move and all the expenses that will come with that, on top of car payments, and having a very small freak-out. But I'm too tired to freak out too much, so that's...good? Maybe? But still, fancy problems, so I'll stop complaining. "I'm poor from buying a car. I'm tired from working so much. I own too many cars to drive at once." Boring!

I'm holding onto the Neon for my brother, who will take it in about two weeks. Internets, cross your fingers that he will find some spare change in his post-collegiate pockets to help offset the costs of owning and insuring two cars for 13 days.

Thank God I'm Not Going to Florida This Year

2010-02-10T23:19:00.002-06:00

Last year, I went to Florida for a week in March for spring break. I'm not going this year so that I can budget for/move into my PajamApartment (real pants discouraged), and the lack of vacation may be a good thing for reasons more than budgetary.

Tonight Beth and I had a crescent roll party. As a result, my fridge currently holds a leftover tube of dough, turkey cocktail franks, brie, bleu cheese, bacon and an apple. It just feels so American. Tonight, when my hands were too greasy from pre-made dough to unscrew a bottle of wine, I felt downright patriotic. Satisfying, but not exactly the ingredients of a beach body.

USA! USA! USA!

Snow Day!

2010-02-08T21:38:00.004-06:00

Growing up in Milwaukee, I never had a snow day, because our superintendent was from Minnesota. The big day everyone from my high school remembers is "Water Main Break Day," which occurred in fall of tenth grade for me, when...the water main broke. Oh, and once there was a bomb threat and we had to evacuate. But no snow day!

Tonight I went to Costco. You know how to get rock star parking at Costco? Go on a Monday night during a snow emergency. It was amazing! And on the way home, people were actually driving courteously. Like, someone in a big SUV actually slowed down to let me merge instead of vrooming ahead of me to let me know that their car would eat my car for a snack. And I'm so proud of my little car, powering through the crappy roads like a champ. And I'm proud of me, for not taking the weather as a sign to work from home.

This is my favorite kind of snow. I love how fluffy and drift-y it is, and how quiet everything is because of it. Brushing my car off at Costco, in my big poofy parka with its big poofy hood, I was having a great time. This weather is wildly inconvenient, but it really is the perfect winter weather, if you're into that.

When I turned onto my street tonight I passed a plow and gave the driver a thumbs up as I went by. And he gave me a look that pretty much told me he thought I'd flipped him off. Oops. Not so, Mr. Plow!

And on one final snow note, please enjoy this song, which in my opinion is the perfect snow song.

Things That Make Me Happy

2010-02-07T21:57:00.004-06:00

It's Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday, and the insane conference prep that will occupy the next two weeks of my life will be in full force. So to keep me in a good mood as I wind down the weekend, I've made a list of things that make me happy.

My programmable coffeemaker, gifted to me by a former college roommate when she moved back to St. Louis. I love smelling coffee when I wake up, and it really helps get me out of bed and into a coffee shower. Also, being from my college days, it reminds me of a simpler, more futon-y, less car-dependent time.
This episode of Undercover Boss that's on right now. It's warming my heart.
My cat. It's a little crazy and Cat Lady of me, but it's fun hanging out with her and I like that she gets jealous of my laptop occupying her spot. She's a fun buddy for Battlestar Galactica, too.
When there are surprise bagels or donuts at the office in the morning. It's a little moment of hope every morning--even when there aren't any (so, 93 percent of the time), it's fun to think that there might be.
Grocery shopping. I just love the feeling of having a stocked fridge and getting good deals. I keep myself on a pretty strict budget, and I like seeing how much I still have left over. And grocery shopping leads to cooking homey things like pot roast, which is always more satisfying than something pre-made. Unless that something pre-made is...
...a number #55, medium spicy, with tofu, from True Thai.
Winter nights. Even if it's just for a minute while I'm getting gas, it's nice to be able to just enjoy the quiet and watch the snow.
My memory foam mattress topper. Ahhh.
These pictures of Amsterdam in the snow.
Imaginary decorating my new apartment!

I'm going to focus on these things until it's time to go to work tomorrow and squeeze every last bit of fun and relaxation from the weekend.

My New Apartment

2010-02-06T11:44:00.002-06:00

Thanks everyone for weighing in when I was choosing between the two apartments I liked! In the end, I did go with Apartment #1. I didn't think it would be so hard to decide. As you can probably tell, it's tough for me to make choices like that. Pros and cons lists don't really help me, either, because then I start thinking about how those are really subjective, blah blah blah.

So I turned to cold, hard evidence. Also known as Minneapolis Police Department violent crime statistics. Both apartments were in the same precinct, so it was easy to compare. I have some news for you--in Linden Hills, nothing ever happens. And near the intersection of Franklin and Hennepin, things happen. Over the course of one year (I looked at all 52 weeks), there were quite a smattering of "R" dots for rape, little gunshot icons (far cuter than actual gunshots) and scary face icons for "robber persons." And while on-street parking is a titch inconvenient, my main issue with it was personal safety, real or perceived. I get nervous walking alone at night--other ladies, do you get like that, too?

So I talked to my dad (yes, I'm 25. What of it? He loves my crazy.) and he put it to me this way:

Imagine it's the worst workday of your life, and you have to go grocery shopping, and traffic is awful, and you're ready to scream, and you get back to your building and can't find somewhere to park. And then you have to make two trips to bring everything to your third floor walk-up. And you're worried that someone's going to mug you. Or imagine it's that same awful day, but you park right by your door and walk up one flight of stairs to your apartment, and go sit out on your balcony with a glass of wine and chill out.

So, did I love Apartment #2 more? Absolutely, and I'm still a little bummed that I couldn't have it all. But my dad knows me, and he got it dead on. In the end, the peace of mind that comes with more convenience and a safer neighborhood (which was still one of my first choice neighborhoods) will mean more. Plus, I'm getting a new car in two months, and off-street parking will make me (and my insurance rates) happy in that regard.

I move in March 15, and I'm having a fun time thinking about what furniture to spend my tax refund on. Could this be the end of the hand-me-down-mattress era of my life? That's one more grown-up criteria I'd meet. Scary!

Such An Apt Name!

2010-02-03T23:17:00.003-06:00

It's been a while since Emily has posted an extremely adoptable animal, but I would like to submit for your consideration Tippy:

They really did a crackerjack job naming her. Don't you just want to give her love? And nutrition? She would make you smile every day. Just look at that distinctive little face! It's enough advertisement right there. Plus she sort of looks like a bear!

Help Me Pick an Apartment

2010-01-31T15:41:00.007-06:00

Dudes, apartment searching is hard. First, it's time consuming, and second, you see a lot of dumps. And then third, sometimes you see two apartments you like equally but for different reasons and are totally torn because it's your first place on your own and you want to love your new home. With the latter in mind, help a girl out.

Apartment #1
In Linden Hills, has assigned off-street parking and a balcony. Walking distance to Lake Harriet. Newer building with carpet. Tons of light due to said balcony. Small but reasonable kitchen. Very spacious main area. Huge closets. Within my price range, but is currently on special so it might cost more after 12 months. Was totally smitten by it and picturing myself in it until I saw...

Apartment #2
In Kenwood, close to Hennepin but quiet. Adorable old brownstone. Walking distance to Lake of the Isles. Super well kept building with a live-in caretaker who's been there for 20 years and will build tenants custom shelving. Hardwood floors in great condition. Big closets. Corner unit with great light. The most secure building I've ever seen. Higher end of my price range but doable, and shouldn't change much. I'm kind of in love with this apartment and am decorating it in my head. However, it's a third-floor walk up (plus side, no noise from above) with on-street parking (but in a quieter neighborhood so spaces are fairly easy to find), and the bathroom is through the bedroom. The kitchen is small but actually very functional, with newer appliances.

I think #1 is the more practical but less exciting choice (but again, I loved it until I saw #2). Apartment #2 is the cute old apartment I've always wanted but is maybe less convenient than #1. I'm a practical person, but I'm also 25 and if I'm going to do the whimsical-but-slightly-imperfect thing, now's the time. Both apartments include heat in the rent and have A/C units, and both have on-site laundry.

Help me, Interwebs! Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

The Olympics are Coming!

2010-01-26T21:28:00.005-06:00

So, today over on Go Fug Yourself they did a roundup of costumes from the recent U.S. National Figure Skating Championships. And they included a link to this video:

I think it is safe to say that "gay as a parade" should be replaced in the lexicon by "gay as Johnny Weir ice dancing to 'Poker Face.'" A-mazing!

I love it. LOVE IT. YES. Bring it, Johnny. I love the Winter Olympics!

At Least It Isn't Pinkeye

2010-01-25T23:16:00.004-06:00

Today started early and is (clearly) ending late. I'm in the middle of a two-day meeting at work, but I guess the plus here is the overtime. During a break today I squeezed in a doctor's appointment because my eyes have been red and itchy forever, and I have a conference next month, and I really didn't want it to develop into anything contagious on the road. You know.

The good news (I think) is that all I needed was a prescription for some antihistamine eye drops and they sent me on my way. But in the pharmacy, a dude about my dad's age pitched a fit.

Pharmacy technician: "I'm sorry, sir, but your prescription still isn't ready. If you'd like to wait, it should be about twenty more minutes."

Cranky fit pitcher: "No, I don't want to wait! I already waited! I left, and I came back!"

PT (getting uncomfortable): "I apologize sir, but we're very busy today? If you'd like I can give you a pager?"

CFP: "No! I don't want a pager! I don't want to wait around here. That's why I left, and came back, and it should be ready. Jesus Christ...fricka fracka...mumble...cuss..." (at this point he was stomping away and I was walking quickly so as not to get stuck in the entryway with him).

For what it's worth, I waited. And read the same copy of Parenting magazine (IT WAS ALL THEY HAD. DON'T JUDGE. But now I'm paranoid about kids I don't have yet choking someday and needing to know how to Heimlich a kindergartner and also keep them from watching too much Nickeloeon [NO SUCH THING]) that was there the last time I picked up prescriptions in December. I don't even want to think about how many people have thumbed through it during flu season.

So I might not have had pinkeye going into that place, but I may very well have left with it.

"You wanna have, like, ten thousand of his babies."

2010-01-18T21:29:00.003-06:00

It has been raining babies in my life lately. About six months ago (holy cow, it's been six months!) my friend Jessica had a beautiful baby boy, Everett. Last Saturday, my friend Andrea had the amazing Enzo, who is so cute you could just take him home in your big purse. And today I found out that my friend (and former prom date) Justin is going to be a dad...like, any hour now.

Justin's best friend from college got pregnant and the father is not involved. Justin has always wanted a kid and has a super secure job with amazing benefits, so he is going to adopt the baby and they'll raise it together. I think this is just amazing, and touching, and I'm sort of blown away by the "it takes a village" attitude. Justin's gay, and the mom is straight, so at some point step-parents will likely be involved. But that's really no big deal (I speak from experience) and probably going to be the weirdest part of the whole thing for the kid, because Justin will be an excellent dad. This baby will have a wonderful, funny, cultured, tri-lingual father who wanted more than anything to become part of his life. I just love that. Plus, Justin is an such an upstanding dude. Didn't even try to sleep with me on prom night or anything.

I'm just feeling all gushy and getting excited when I see the labor updates. Congrats, Justin!

Review

2010-01-17T20:50:00.007-06:00

A couple weeks ago, my Kinetic Classicor Dutch oven arrived from cookware.com. They just asked that I accept this free kitchen equipment (okay, twist my arm), use it and let you know how it went. Can do! So far, I am really pleased with it.

I did a test run with it last week and made some brown rice. For the first time in months, I did not burn the bottom or accidentally make brown rice risotto glop. Yesterday I busted out the big guns and made a pot roast. In addition to its other qualities, I'm pleased to note that the Dutch oven fits a 4 lb. chuck roast and a heap of potatoes, carrots and onions. Basically, it fit the bill perfectly. I love homey foods that take hours to cook, but it's really important to have the proper pans to really do those recipes right.

The rice turned out great and the pot roast was amazing (sprinkled it with salt and pepper; seared the outside on the stove top with some olive oil; added vegetables; cooked it with a bunch of Mrs. Dash, a can of crushed tomatoes and some water in the oven at 350 degrees for about three hours; and splashed in a good pour of red wine about ten minutes before serving).

While I got my Dutch oven for free (and very much appreciate that), I also think the price ($29.99) is totally reasonable. It's a very good weight and distributes heat evenly (thus the scorchless rice). And it's got a smooth finish that things wash off of, and the lid seals well. (That last sentence should let you know what's lacking in the majority of my post-collegiate cookware.) The only bad part of the experience was forgetting my potholder and scorching my fingers on the lid. But it's not cookware.com's fault that I'm a klutz.

Resolution Time

2010-01-17T17:30:00.007-06:00

I'm not big for resolutions that call for dramatic, immediate revisions of behavior. Overnight, I will not start flossing every day, getting up at 5:30 a.m. for pre-work jogs, or drinking more green tea instead of coffee. I might take on more of those behaviors, but extremes just don't work for me when I'm trying to change or improve my ways.

So I've thought it over for a few weeks, and I think I've come up with some good resolutions.

Talk less. Say "should" less. Listen more. I figure this one explains itself.
Exercise more. Seventy-five percent of women will be widowed by age 56. While I can't speak to at what age most men are widower-ed, this is a good reminder to move around more. This stat just generally spooked me and made me realize that even if I'm just 25, I need to start good habits now if I'm ever going to hit 100 and then become half robot.
Learn to sew and upholster. Nothing anti-feminist about knowing how to not hemorrhage money on decorating.
Learn HTML and Photoshop basics, finally, so as not to be irrelevant on the job market.
Replace "have to" with "get to." I don't "have to" go to work, I "get to" go to work. Etc.
Roast a whole chicken. I've never done that.
Visit my family more often. Milwaukee isn't that far. Neither is Detroit.
Take a trip to Mount Rushmore. "North by Northwest" reenactment optional.
Dress like a grown-up more often. Real pants are awful, but I can at least accessorize them properly.
Get a passport. For all those trips I fantasize about and could potentially take one day.

I'm sure this list will grow throughout the year. We'll see what I get through. What did you all resolve?

I Smell a Halloween Costume

2010-01-10T10:05:00.004-06:00

Last night the following exchange took place via text.

Emily: In Iowa there is a man with a mullet, fringe knee-high suede boots, and pants that are khakis in the front and jeans in the back.

Stephanie: Is it Art in disguise?

Emily: I wish!

Art, I'm not saying--I'm just saying. MN Beard-Off outfit, perhaps?

And The Winner Is...

2010-01-08T17:19:00.004-06:00

...Reuben! Of the 12 comments submitted, Random.org selected #6.

Reuben is the proud new owner of this rotary cheese grater from cookware.com. I think he will find it awesome because:

No one really loves the Olive Garden, but the best part of it is the servers' ability to rotary-grate little snowdrifts of cheese on your soup, salad and pasta.
Regular graters leave to clumps of cheddar or whatnot on the inside of them, and you have to knock them out, and you never get all of it.
Regular graters are a pain in the butt to wash, as they often try to grate your sponge. I'd imagine you could just "grate" some soap and water through this.
No more accidental knuckle grates!

Congratulations, Reuben! Let us know how you like it.

A Little Dose of Happy

2010-01-07T14:46:00.008-06:00

via Travel Africa

I'm working from home today because of the awful weather (and therefore awful driving conditions for my little car) and because I woke up this morning feeling like I was getting a cold. With a big conference coming up this month and my tendency to get sick in a really major way at inconvenient times, I wanted to take it easy.

All day I've seen people shoveling and salting walks as it gets blustery and blustier (sure, it's a word...ish) outside, where the temperature is currently 9 degrees. Doesn't it just make you want to take a vacation? I Googled "ultimate tropical vacation" and found this picture of a beach in Mozambique, where it is currently 81 degrees. Don't you just want to be in that little boat, dangling you feet in the water? And don't even get me started on that amazing sand. I want to go to there! Focus, and enjoy.

I Feel Pretty

2010-01-05T21:21:00.012-06:00

Jess posted today about how seeing plus-sized models, while somewhat reassuring to the average woman, is still intimidating because, well, they're models. Regardless of weight, these women are statuesque, picturesque, Rubenesque, you-name-it-esque. Don't get me wrong, it still blows me away when I see larger women in magazines and makes me feel like I'm not such an anomaly, and sure, it's empowering, but they're still really, really beautiful women with great clothes and hair and lighting. Not exactly "average" or "normal" or even "un-Photoshopped," but a step in the right direction nonetheless. Anyway, the whole thing reminded me of a link I came across recently. New York Magazine put this slideshow out in 2008 but I only saw it over my holiday vacation when catching up on some reading over at Little Green Notebook. It instantly made me feel so much better!

These are before and after shots of models at the Gucci Spring 2009 show in Milan. I always figured that, yes, these girls look hyper-gorgeous on the runway, but makeup can only do so much. They must still look pretty amazing barefaced.

And while some of the girls in the slideshow are truly gorgeous either way, others look like they never went to bed, or haven't had coffee yet, or need meatball subs. In other words--like people. Observe some of the transformations:

Before

After

Before

After

Before

After

It's just refreshing to see that a lot of what we see is not what these ladies roll out of bed with. It clearly takes some serious skill, technique and makeup. I don't know about you, but I don't have a team of experts ready to make me look superhuman every day...or ever, really. Unless Stacy, Clinton and Carmindy count. This narrows the "me vs. them" gap in my mind a little, because part of the product is the process here. I'm not going to touch the whole "women and media" issue here in any serious way, I just thought this might make you feel better, too.

Just Remembered This From My Vacation. Also, Neil Diamond!

2010-01-05T00:12:00.006-06:00

While back home for the holidays, I took a trip with the BFF to Costco (of course, she left the building as a new member. I'm a wholesale club missionary!). The first thing she and her husband did after we entered was make a beeline for a special on king crab legs and buy two pounds. The second thing they did was turn around to the refrigerated seafood case to eye a display of giant whole smoked fish.

"Holly Holy!" said BFF, before grabbing one to add to our cart.

In high school, we'd drive around in her Honda and listen to Neil Diamond with the windows down. We particularly love(d) "Forever in Blue Jeans," one of my favorite songs ever. I sincerely owe Will Ferrell a lot for bringing it into my life (though I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I didn't really know who Neil Diamond was or why he was so great until the Gap introduced me to his work. Oh, how I have grown):

When Emily and I saw him perform in 2008, he sang that song and I swear, I could have been hit by a bus leaving the Xcel Center and died totally fulfilled. It was quite possibly the happiest four minutes or so of my life. If you ask Emily, she'll probably say I yelled something like "SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPITSFOREVERINBLUEJEANSICANDIENOWOMGOMGOMG!"

Anyway, I just think it's so nice when smoked fish, bulk buying and Neil Diamond can be combined into one experience!

You know?

Review Update, Plus: Giveaway!

2010-01-04T22:19:00.007-06:00

Reuben must have sensed something, because I have some exciting news! My dutch oven arrived today from cookware.com, and a review will follow shortly. This also means...giveaway! (See the original entry here.)

First things first. I can't decide what to make in my new dutch oven for reviewing purposes. Thoughts? While I'm not sure about what I should cook in it, my first impression of it is that it's really well made. As a burgeoning adult, I really appreciate kitchen equipment that doesn't make me feel like I'm settling. It doesn't look quite as deep in person as it does online, but I can tell it will hold a lot. The question is, a lot of what? Brown rice? Currently I fail at making it, but none of my pots have tightly fitting lids. Enter dutch oven (heh!)? Perhaps I should make pasta sauce. Mashed potatoes? Or pot roast. Or just...a lot of pasta. Or any variety of Italian grandma dishes.

Second: Giveaway time!

Visit cookware.com and leave a comment below regarding why this rotary cheese grater should be yours. I'll choose the winner at random on Friday. Comment as many times as you'd like. Good luck!

Update: Durr. Eireann's comment reminded me to tell you that the cheese grater can only be shipped within the U.S. Europe (et al), your knuckles remain at risk.