friends

a little pre-Brother Sister March of Madness memorabilia.
Mostly, I love this picture because we're all just stoked to get on our bikes and enjoy the city.

Genuinely an awesome, and almost wordless, experience.

a penchant for the overtly innappropriate

I realize I'm not a shrinking violet, and I've made peace with that.

But I'm earning a reputation amongst my friends for being overtly inappropriate. Part of me smirks irrespressibly at the thought. The other part of me prays to God I haven't offended anyone.

(consequently, I don't tend to attract the thin-skinned, when it comes to friends... so I'm probably OK. but I still worry...)

That disclaimer in hand, look how well my friends know me.

Diana (welcome back to the Dark, ahem, Blogger side of the world, dear...) sent me this lovely article from the Onion (overtly inappropriate in and of itself).

It was an acute reminder of my days as an MFIP Tier II Employement Specialist (Career Counselor for welfare recipients).

Any of you JVS alums who read my blog will totally know what I'm talking about here. You won't comment, because that would be condoning my inappropriate ramblings about the type of job we had -- but you and I both know there are some scary grains of truth in here, some lines we totally heard on voicemail or objectively documented in a file.

Today is brought to you by the letter A, for...

Anger.

I have long held a belief that while, yes, I get angry sometimes, there's not a lot of point in it. It doesn't change anything... it's really self-serving... and I just had a conversation yesterday about, man, if we could just point the collective anger-energy toward being proactive and working individually to create a solution -- what a differerent world I would blog about.

That said, my interest is piqued by a couple of things of note:

(Credit where credit is due time: I've been having dialogues about this with Dave and Becca, so really, this isn't my original thought so much as it is a culmination of the thought-nuggets those conversations leave in my brain.)

A great article about the politics of anger.

VW's recent ad campain popping up all over town, begging the public to drop our pursuit of misery and dare to be happy.
(see rule #1: chase your happy.)

It could be because it's 70 degrees and amazing outside today. Or because I'm in a decent place in life. Or whatever. But I like the backlash at anger.
What if we all just decided to get over ourselves? What if we stopped being pissed off and started being happy? What if we left misery by the wayside and just started digging on the good stuff already in our lives? What would happen? How would your life be different.

Today is brought to you by A for Anger. Now forget about that, get out there and chase down some happy for yourself.

bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

Let's be real: I'm a modern city girl. I don't live in Austria prior to WWII, and I'm most certainly not Julie Andrews.

So allow me to say... these are a few of my favorite things.

City Pages Best of... 2007

Hey boys and girls!

If you live in the greater Twin Cities Metro area, go out and rock a local vote!

City Pages is running their "best of" campaign for all things urban through early April-ish (the 9th, perhaps?)

Results announced April 25th. My favorite City Pages issue of the year.

Go ye, and Vote!

It's a wedding, and I helped.

Some photos of the (I believe) aforementioned wedding of the Lovely Diana and her wonderful husband(!) Jeff.
I'm not (really) trying to toot my own horn about the dress... but I made it and I'm pleased with the way it turned out. So, there you have it. Hurray, love!

equinox

Spring arrives at 7-ish local time tonight (for those of you who like to get real technical about this kind of stuff.)

The vernal equinox always reminds me that I am strong. I survive every winter - no matter how desolate they seem. And it reminds me that life renews itself. Equinox is about balance... and yah, I'm digging balance.

(update: Thanks, Christy, for not letting my coffee-free morning screw up the entire blog post. You rule.)

life, death, and professional baseball

2007's Major League Baseball Opening Day draws ever-nearer.

I just received word I have tickets for the July 18th game vs. the Tigers and the September 21st game against the White Sox, both in amazing seats at the Dome. And while I'd rather be drinking sub-standard beer and eating too many hot dogs, sitting on hard bleacher seats and letting the summer sun beat down on my freckled shoulders, I'll take my baseball any way I can get it.

Tickets for the Home Opener in 2 weeks (Really! Just 2 short weeks!), as well as a mid-season battle and tickets for the last home-stand of the season (we close in Boston at the end of September... wish I had unlimited time, energy and money for baseball roadtrips...) have got me thinking about everything I love about baseball.

• Aforementioned junk food: giant all-beef hot dogs smothered in mustard and sauerkraut and relish and ketchup and onions, sub-standard and overpriced (but somehow still delicious) ice-cold beer, sucking the salt off peanut shells til my lips chap, warm kettlecorn in a giant bag you buy as you walk inside the ballpark.
• Wandering around the plaza before the game. Soaking up sun, my city, my neighbors. Listening to street music. Buying overpriced snacks.
• Getting my hands on a program in order to keep score. I used to do stats for our baseball team in high school. I love the art of keeping score, inexplicably.
• The ebb and flow of the game. I love the lull of a long at-bat; the mix of ennui and anticipation, knowing that the next swing of the bat could mean a riveting homerun or a deflating strikeout.
• Trying my very best to out-ump the umpire calling pitches at home plate. I don't know how many times I have screamed: Are you blind? That was obviously low and inside! He doesn't tuck his knees inside his cleats, you incompetent old fart!
• The jumbo-tron. Yup, I'm a geek, but I love peoplewatching (everywhere, not just the baseball game), and the jumbo-tron at the Dome is a kitchy, yet effective, method. I love the strange deformo-thing they do. And the kissing cam. And when they catch a baby sleeping, or a little kid tweaking, or an old lady knitting.
• Speaking of the jumbo-tron, I love the baseball game announcements. You know, the "thanks to Acme corp for having their summer picnic here" thing. And the birthdays, and anniversaries... always so embarrassing (and by embarrassing, I mean hilarious). Oooh, and then there's the classic (insert my best girly-swoon here) baseball-game-proposal. Yah, yah, I know there's the risk of "Ohmigod I'm going to propose on the Jumbotron what if she says no", thing, but that's why I love it. I LOVE IT. I think it's absurd and wonderful, and potentially (at the risk of being accused of using hyperbole), my all-time favorite proposal methodology. (I realize this makes me sound like I've propsed to several people in my life. Which would be both strange and entirely false. Ah well.)
• Dodging crap for 9 innings: foul balls, spilled beer, renegade nachos.
• Singing Take Me Out to the Ballgame. There's nothing I don't love about the 7th inning stretch.
• The insta-communities that pop up over the course of a game. Inherently, you strike up a conversation with the people around you - and especially if it's a close or fast-moving game, by the 9th inning you have a new best friend and you are screaming incoherent chants together with your baseball cap turned inside out and backwards. You will in all likelihood never see these people again (unless you all are season ticketholders), but for those few innings, you are a family.

Take me out to the ballgame, baby. I can hardly wait.

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh

The Claddagh.

What better way to celebrate my favorite holiday than by resurrecting a tradition lost amidst an ancestry dappled with indentured servantry and survival at the expense of cultural heritage.

Blessings of St. Patrick. Wishing each of you loyalty, friendship, and love.

It's Friday, I'm in love.

(urbanwanderlust confesses: I actually really dislike the Cure, and that's probably the only line you'll ever hear me quote from any song they've put out.)

If you know me outside internets (it's a series of tubes; it's not a truck!) you will know I have endured a craptastic week. Meh, we've all got 'em, right?

Well, it is Friday and things are looking up.

For one thing, the craptastic week is nearly done.
It's payday, and I was welcomed into my office this morning by a warm, chewy, decadent Everything Bagel with gobs of melty cream cheese, because my boss brought us all breakfast.
I got a good night's sleep for the first time in well over a week, after ignoring my laundry and dishes and chores in favor of a compelling episode of Buffy.
My best friend is getting married tomorrow.
It's my favorite holiday of the year tomorrow (OK, Thanksgiving is really my favorite. Food narrowly edges out drinking. This is my life.).
I get to celebrate Becca's birthday (which is today -- Happy Birthday!) with many people I adore.
Of Montreal is at First Ave tonight. I'm currently going through my Of Montreal collection (it's deliciously upbeat and absurd and nonsequitor) and seems to fit today perfectly.
That is, of course, after I partake of some Irish goodness at the Liffey.
I got to ride next to a lovely service dog (who was a beautiful Golden Retriver, and reminded me of Claire and how much I miss her and Denali and are looking oh-so forward to an East Coast roadtrip this summer) on the bus this morning.
I walked past a mailbox covered in a big sticker that made it look like R2D2 on my way into work. I have my camera with; maybe I'll wander down there and take a picture during lunch.
My hair did a semi-cooperative thing today.

Wednesday recap

I can't put my Wednesday night any better than this, really.

attitude adjustment

I was a little, oh woe is me, this morning. Just lots of fingernails on the chalkboard in my life right now -- nothing earth-shattering, just annoying as can be.

After a wonderful compliment on a previous post, and this quote, I'm feeling a little better. Still exhausted -- still overwhelmed. But at least hopeful.

It is wise to direct your anger towards problems - not people; to focus
your energies on answers - not excuses.
— William Arthur Ward

Advice my preschooler won't need for a few years, but I'm posting anyway.

There has been much talk in the woman-circles I frequent, of late, about life partners. And what makes an ideal significant other. And what we really ought to expect out of our relationships.

And I've come to realize in the last few months, as much as love is wonderful, and important... it isn't what makes someone an ideal match for you. In fact, if I could tell any woman anything about finding someone to be happy with, it's this:

Do not waste your time with a significant other you wouldn't be able to paint a room with.
Live on a liferaft with.
Plant a garden with.
Make thanksgiving dinner with.
Build a house with.
Cry and laugh and plan and be irresponsible, all in the same day, with.
Parent a child with.
Unplug a toilet at 3 AM with.
Get lost in a strange city with.
Watch your grandmother die with.

Having a partner who is really a partner -- who just works for you, just works with you, like a machine, like they get it, like , more often than not, they live in your brain and were wired to understand the world the way you understand the world -- that's something awesome. It's somethign to look for, something to be excited about, something to expect, to require for yourself. Be selfish in this one thing. There's nothing more amazing than a good partner.

cruelty-free

cruelty (noun)
1. a cruel act; a deliberate infliction of pain and suffering.
2. feelings of extreme heartlessness.
3. the quality of being cruel and causing tension or annoyance.


Kids are (sometimes) cruel.
People who love you can (sometimes) be cruel.
Life (sometimes) deals cruel blows.

I am acutely aware of, awash with, overwhelmed with, the cruelty floating around in the world. Please understand, I am infinitely blessed in many ways: dear family, beautiful friends, an amazing love, intelligence, education, a strong career, a city I love, the ability to enjoy the gifts urban life bestows.

But I don't like the taint cruelty leaves on a life so rich.

I hate that kids are cruel to my daughter, who is dear and imaginative and creative and beautiful. I hate that the world squelches 4-year-old creativity with conformity.

I hate watching people I love suffer through cruelty at the hands of another selfish human. I don't hate supporting them -- I love it. I love being there, I want to be the shoulder anyone feels they can lean on -- that's part of being the Essential Sarah. But it breaks my heart to know that someone I love, hurts too.

I hate injustice, and mixed emotions, and cruel things outside my control. I know life sometimes sucks. Believe me, I get that. But somehow, it doesn't make it much easier. I know we can't be happy all the time. I know crisis exists. I know hardships exist to make us stronger, to temper us in the fire. What I don't like is just being there... I want to make it better, to move through it, to get back to happy.

Maybe that's what makes me good in crisis situations.
But it still makes me long for a world I could call cruelty-free.

Survey says...

I'm a dork.
(we all knew that).

That being said, I'm officially a Metroblogger now.
To me, this makes Monday worth living. See statement (a) above.

(the song-of-the-morning was Ben Folds' Tiny Dancer. Mostly because the Scrubs episode we watched last night had Pvt. Dancer in it. Stoopid brain associating random things.)

flip this friday

grump.

I woke up ornery this morning. My legs hurt from working out. I slept in a shriveled ball of stress and exhaustion, and have extraordinary shoulder tension. I gave myself a killer burn baking lemon bars last night. I didn't get enough sleep -- I had a giant looming to-do list -- my alarm didn't ring at 5:40 as it was set to (I desperately need a new alarm clock) -- and Paige was moving at the speed of sleepy turtle.

My hair looks funny; I must have slept on it wrong; mostly because it was damp when I finally crawled into bed way too late last night.

I didn't get my floors mopped, my furniture dusted, my filing sorted.
I didn't get my garbage out.
I didn't finish the hem on Diana's dress.

I forgot to pack face wash for this weekend.

I still have to make curtains. The fabric is sitting there, staring at me, guilting me. I know. I know. I'll get to it soon. Promise.

But my closet is a disaster. I got nothing of mine ironed or hung out of the clean laundry pile.

And my desk is a disorganized fiasco. I need to purge and organize my crafting stuff -- desperately -- but don't have the time.

I still have a ton of homework to do.

and my driver's liscence still hasn't arrived.

Crap. I need to call about 40 people back.

Also, I have to invent 48-72 hours between now and Easter to type up my thesis. By the way, this time doesn't actually exist in my calendar or schedule; I just have to manufacture it somewhere.

I think I'm dehydrated.

I didn't fill up or wash my car before my weekend roadtrip. I hate leaving on a roadtrip in a messy (and probably slightly smelly) car. And I'll still need to stop and get gas.

Even a warm little stroll to fetch a latte, bus pass, daffodils and girl scout cookies really hasn't adjusted my point of view. Well, maybe a little. But I still feel a bit disenchanted.

---

I need to flip my friday, and fast. What's the matter with me? It's gorgeous outside -- 45 degrees and sunny. That hideous black-crusted snow is melting. I am on a free pass to drink coffee, sew, and relax all weekend. I get to spend quality time with people I love. I have a lovely job, dear friends, a happy place to live, a darling and well-adjusted child who worships me.

Perhaps sushi for lunch in an hour will put things in better perspective.

if music were drinks

I spent a good portion of yesterday heads-down, writing (I love those days.)

I woke up with a shot of Of Montreal... "Let's pretend we don't exist/Let's pretend we're in Antarctica"...

Chased that with a pack of The Hopefuls -- The Fuses Refuse to Burn.

Sat down and grabbed a splash of Rhinocerose's Cubicle with my coffee (heck yah, it always gets me going when I'm on deadline).

And then sat down to a pitcherful of Tapes 'N Tapes (The Loon. So good.)

What's on your workout playlist?

OK... congratulate me; I joined the (very nice, reasonably priced) gym at my workplace.
Now... I spent approximately 40 minutes on the treadmill and elliptal trainer today, flipping from album to album (I have a few albums I regularly listen to while running outside, and I can get around the lake in about an album... but it's just a different vibe).

I got some really great feedback on suggestions for songs to add to my deadlines playlist; so I'm putting the call out again.

What do you all work out to? it's gotta be something with a great beat -- something a little angry -- something definitely fast (motivate me to run that 10-minute mile). I have an appointment to learn the machines and start strength training midweek next week -- do you listen to anything different for that?

What are you doing to mark the 2007 spring solstice?

I don't know about you, but I'm all for spring getting here any bloody day now.
So what are you doing March 24th?

Because I'm welcoming spring with the mother of all scavenger hunts.

an open letter

Dear Winter:

It's time you know my true feelings. I can no longer hide them under the guise of being a hearty Minnesotan.

Here's how I see it: you show up at the end of every fall, all Currier and Ives, charming and quiet and gentle. You gently coat the world around me with white marshmallow-fluff snowcaps. You charm me with sleigh bells and warm evenings nestled inside under a blanket with hot drinks and merrymaking.

You even lure me out into your icy grasp for New Years Eve. Every year, you sweet-talk me into thinking this year will be different. You'll be mild. You'll let me wear high heels all season long. You'll let me get away with a flimsy coat and no hat.

And then you pull a Jekyll and Hyde on me. You turn to ice. You make the world blustery and dark. I lose all hope, as bitingly dim mornings and bitter cold nights fall into one another til it seems my toes will never thaw and I'll never again jog around the lake. I languish in my home, with starchy dinners and TV reruns, wistfully remembering the girl who roamed outside freely oh-so long ago.

Then, when all hope seems lost, you disappear. One morning, I wake up and you have packed your bags and left for another town. My dear friend Spring calls, and suddenly the birds are singing, the snow races away in melting streams, and my outdoor world is alive. Taking the bus doesn't seem like as much of a punishment, as it does a gift. I consider the herbs I will grow, filling bike tires with air, and the location of my long white skirt. I jog. I laugh. I play. I am again alive.

Until you show up on my doorstep, howling once again. You are still cold, still bitter, still vicious... made even more prominent by the recent respite from your constant barrage. Well, Winter... I'm sick of it, and I am sick of you. I don't like the way you treat me. Your inability to give me any sort of consistency is maddening. You overstay your welcome, and return to me when I least expect it.

I guess what I'm trying to say, Winter, is that we shouldn't see each other any more. I think you need to leave. In fact, I'm over you. I think my friend Spring and I are ready to just hang out for a while, and your imposing presence is getting in our way.

Do us all a favor and get out of town, would ya? You're no good for me, anymore.

Sarah

magnificent obsessions

Rooted in psychology, my education tells me we're all a little obsessive about some things. I tend to obsess about the things I find most enjoyable: food, music, city sights, beverages, purses, crafts.

With that in mind, allow me to elucidate my current obsession(s):

Mates of State: I love the dissonant harmony created by this couple-turned-indie-band. Mmm.

Cottage cheese with fresh pineapple for breakfast: I have a great cafeteria downstairs. Yes, you may call me spoiled.

Lush's Dream Cream: I realized I purchased a tub of this lotion just before Thanksgiving in Chicago, and while I use it almost every time I get out of the shower, it's only about half gone. And it makes me feel soft and delightful without smelling like I was standing next to the perfume factory when the nuke hit (it is all essential-oil based, so it doesn't really smell. It just makes me want to touch my skin all over.)

The yellow Granny purse: My winter purse imploded on itself this week. So I picked up an adorable yellow number from Target (it's that lovely Isaac Mizrahi stuff). I love how beautifully, perfectly bumblebee yellow it is. And it's an ideal size, with good pockets.

Pond's Cold Cream: I have been suffering some winter dermatological woes (dry spots, then blemishes, which form on top of dry spots... make up your mind, face.) So I followed the advice of my foremothers and grabbed me some Pond's Cold Cream. Who knew that would make my face lovely and clear and smooth... all for 4.99? Hurray. And, more proof that grandma's always right.

Alton Brown's cooking and baking methods: I cannot stop thinking about the way Alton Brown explains baking (and to a lesser extent, cooking... but we all know where my skills and passions lie.) I love the science, the chemistry, the order of it all.

Bloody Crafts: It's a happy delight every time I visit this blog. So much cute, crafty, sassy goodness.

fair and balanced: two sides to every story

Good morning! It's Thursday, it's March in Minneapolis, and we're in the flux of another snowstorm. In like a lion, baby.

Things currently making me :)

• The Twins tying Boston in their opening spring training game. OK, tying doesn't actually make me happy. Ties are unbaseballian. Almost unamerican. But spring training is in full swing, which means spring itself (and a baseball season I get all antsy about every time I think about it) is nearly here.
• A darling, poppy, punky scottish outfit called The View. I just listened to Hats Off to the Buskers. The whole thing was energetic, frenetic, britpop deliciousness. I love having the music hookup, and I love knowing people who know and love music.
• A haircut and brow wax this evening.
• Tasty, thrifty dinner goodness thanks to Athens Cafe.
• Mad sewing and 3red-season-Buffy-viewing post-preschool-storytime tonight.
• Musical evening,including wine, chocolate, and Caffrey's sammiches, with the ever-wonderful Jana tomorrow night.
• Getting past page 200 in the Jest.
• Having my stepmom call to rave about David Sedaris. I'm totally bringing her the entire set when we go up for Easter.
• Planning East Coast roadtrips.

Things currently making me :(

• Another foot of snow.
• The inability for my crappy upstairs neighbor to move his scary-kidnapper-van, thus making it nearly impossible for me to ease out of my parking spot.
• Let's be real: my crappy upstairs neighbor, in general. Why hasn't he moved out/been evicted yet?
• Only being at page 200 in the Jest.
• Meat that prematurely expires and thus stinks up your entire fridge.
• Laundry that seems to procreate on its own time.
• Unnecessary, yet seemingly unavoidable, conflict.
• A never-ending to-do list.
• The last big push of homework for school. I know it will all be over soon, but there is so very much to get done before I walk in that graduation ceremony...
• 5 more months of a strange commute from my place in Linden Hills to preschool in Golden Valley to downtown for work, and back again. Doesn't make any sense to move Paige into preschool til we find a place in Northeast to put our roots down in, but still.