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drinking whiskey and rye

P1000714, originally uploaded by Leetch11.

(from Jana's going away party on the 10th)...

Jana moved her business out to Mad-town this weekend. I'm lucky enough to get to hang with her this afternoon and evening, but thought I really ought to throw out a formal tribute to a kindred spirit. Not to mention those kick-ass pointy elbows. And ability to make up words while lamenting workday hangovers which creep up on you in the late morning.

I know it's all going to change, and it will still be good. But it's been a helluva year, and I'll miss everyday-Jana.

Thank God I also enjoy visiting NeverNeverLand (ahem, Madison).

We're Riding Along in Our Barrel

(You'll only understand the reference if you ever watched Wonderfalls. However, you are correct. This is the kickass plastic molded lion you get for a dollar at the zoo. Bewteen DTs, the little person, and I... I just don't know who was more enamoured with it.

Chicago Style

Old Style and Wrigley. I'm in heaven.

Re-Lo-Ca-Tion!

No one panic.

I'm just moving my blog to a place with a little more functionality.
(this move comes after a year or more of noodling it. Honestly, it's just time. Also, I was able to have software move all my posts for me. I'm all about the lazy.)

Please update your bookmarks!

lap of luxury

I painted Paige's finger and toenails for the very first time this evening. It reminded me of many things... of my grandma tending to my needs as a little girl, of my own frustration keeping fingernails from smudging (as a little girl, and even now... even when I pay to have them professionally painted and dried, I inherently fuck them up.)

Mostly, I feel honored to pass down all these feminine rituals to another sassy, beautiful little woman. Paige had a haircut tonight too. Gotta love it when the ladies can live in the lap of luxury from the comfort of our own living room.

oh those summer nights

Bedtime tonight. Paige is sporting a new haircut (thanks to Sally Scissors... anthropomorphizing cutting implements is the only way to get the hair out of her face. I'll do what it takes; I'm just that kind of mom.)

I remember my mom giving me popsicles on sticky summer nights like tonight... and while Paige was chowing down on this one, I had to capture the moment. It's been a total ladies' night... and I have to say, I think it's good for the soul to just hang out at home with your progeny every now and again.

And who doesn't love Scooby-Doo macaroni and cheese for dinner. Really?

I've started to do Pitchfork warmups

Set Times and Map.

(yes, I put the information into my very own spreadsheet. Why yes, I am geeking out about indie rock, thank you very much.)

hometown pride, upcoming events

Funniest thing I've read on Pitchfork in at least 6 months.

Also -- it's my biased opinion that Tapes n' Tapes are the ideal Minnesota summer band. Love those guys.

(additionally, T minus one week from Pitchfork, can hardly believe it's (almost) here. So stoked to show the DTs around my 2nd-favorite city (not to mention the adventure of taking our bikes on the El) next week, spend some quality time with B, N, and Sanne, drink 312 and listen to more indie rock than I can shake a plethora of sticks at.)

God Bless America.

Diana points out a recipe I'm going to make Thursday for my annual trip-to-blow-stuff-up-and-get-tan-as-my-form-of-patriotism (AKA, heading north to the cabin.)

Red white and blue velvet cake!

(those of you who know me may remember that I'm a big fan of red velvet cake...)

Any excuse to bake, be festive, and try something new. I'm totally going to make whipped cream frosting because it's summer, and not the heavy cream cheese business I put on Jana's birthday cake (delicious as that was).

eat it, hallmark.

I semi-regularly read Anonymous Coworker, and today (ish... when I checked the feed reader this morning) he writes a little tribute to his significant other. Which I love, and find dear and appropriate... even though I'm guessing most women (well, OK... the women I don't generally hang out with) wouldn't get it.

I get it, and I think it's awesome (Shark-Riding Ninjas versus Cyborg Zombie Dinosaurs in the Superbowl? Now THAT'S a compliment.)

How trouble starts.

P1000092, originally uploaded by terminallywanderlust.

(we're walking to breakfast. You can't see the PBR in Jana's hand. But it's there.)

quality time.

P1000120, originally uploaded by terminallywanderlust.

'nuff said. Sun, drinks, relaxation, friends. I'm in my element.

room. with a view.

P1000109, originally uploaded by terminallywanderlust.

this photo summates the weekend. Sunshine, quality time with friends I love, south dakota countryside, frosty-cold beverages and relaxation.

Blissful, I spent last weekend's mornings waking slowly to coffee, crackling embers in last night's bonfire smoldering, gently nudging me toward consciousness. My sunny South Dakota days were brimming with amaretto-laced slushies in the pool, bumming margaritas off strangers, an iPod dock that always played the right music, and sun-kissed freckles sprinkling themselves generously across my shoulders and nose. Those days melted into summer nights, laced with fireworks and magic, laughter, dancing with close friends and strangers. I floated between intimate conversations beneath a cherry tree, lighting fireworks between century-old barns, and screaming anthem rock at the top of my lungs, gravel wedged in my yellow flip-flops, sweaty strangers and bug-spray covered lovers arm in arm.

I got on my bike this morning happy to be an urban girl, happy to live amongst the cars and the people and the bustle. But also refreshed and recharged and happy to know that I can always put on my country girl, run barefoot for days at a time, shower outside in freezing cold water, make a fire, sleep on the ground, and forego a manicure (and a hairbrush) to just enjoy living.

internet quote of the day

from Jezebel:

Donna Karan's new fragrance Delicious Night, is said to smell like "the magic of New York at night." Oh, Donna, trust us: New York at night smells like stale Parliaments, cheap wine, sweat, and, er, bad decisions. [WWD, sub req'd]


Wait. That's what the magic of Lyndale Ave at night smells like. Except exchange stale parliaments for Camel Lights and cheap wine for the remnants of the bad lines at Mortimer's.

Take me out.

so, how did you spend your tuesday afternoon? I'm getting my baseball on. And my sunburn. And a bellyfull of Summit. Ah, the summer life is good.

WIPs

Ladies night!

Reasons why I like the balance of T and F in my ENTP personality.

To handle yourself, use your head; to handle others, use your heart.
(Donald Laird)

(don't know what the hell I'm talking about when I say ENTP? It's not a disease, promise. It's actually my Myers-Briggs personality type.)

tastes like grandma?

Look... Tomacco!

local blogging: does a body (of community) good.

Metroblogging (a twin cities blog collective to which I belong) gets mentioned in the SW Journal.


I blog because I like to write... I'm not in it as my career and I'm not interested in 15 minutes of fame. But it feels nice to have a collaborative effort get some mention, anyway.

Life Lesson #4453: an urbanwanderlust PSA.

This is what happens when you mix a crazy family with a little sadness and perhaps a mojito. Don't let it happen to you.

mmm mmm good.

Palm-sized strawberries make me smile.

additionally...

61, originally uploaded by Inflatigirl.

Some more rocks with history.
(Diana's, from Oxford... I was there, too. It was fabulous. And puts the history of the cabin rocks in a whole different light.)

I'm (mostly) done being philisophical now.

Rocks

It's been one hell of a weekend, and it's made me think a lot about rocks.

(This photo is one of those Ireland pictures I took a year ago. Also weird to think it's been a year since I took that trip... and what I different woman I am today. All things good, but just strange to think what a difference one year can make in your life.)

Why rocks, you say, Sarah?

For one, I've had the pleasure to get to know people who are rocks. There's been a bit of death rolling around in my life as of late (3 funerals in 2 months. Well, at least I know, in all likelihood, I'm done for a while. Deaths always come in 3s). I look at the people who carry on after death -- and especially strong women like DTs grandma, who has buried 4 babies, a full-grown son, and now, 2 husbands... and I wonder how she's not a pile of catatonic goo. She's my hero, in many ways. And Diana is right ... you don't know what you can handle until it gets thrusted onto you ... but wow.

I'm also thinking of rocks that sit in the path you walk. Are they barriers? Are they detours? Are they there purposefully ... like milestones, maybe? And is someone else's milestone my barrier? Or vice versa? I don't have any answers to this. It just gets me to thinking.

On Memorial Day weekend, my family picked rocks at the (new) cabin. We stacked those rocks around the (new) cabin, in an effort to prevent erosion and to make the (new) cabin look a little more like it belongs there (right now, it just looks like an awkward giant mansion where my childhood forest used to sit). I always think of the lifespan of a rock when I pick it up... how much its seen that I will only read about in texts, how many future generations of Sarah Green progeny have the ability to pick it up and muse the same thoughts. It was also a bonding experience: all the Greens placing stones around a house that will carry our matriach and patriarch into their well-deserved retirement. A house that will become a home with time and memories. A resting place to enjoy children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, a place to be quiet and reflect. A place to enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of labor. We all reinforced that foundation; we all buttressed the place that will shelter the man and woman who shaped each of us. It was neat, and a bit poetic, and a bit dirty. Blue-collar and homegrown and honest. Just like the family I hold so dear.

DTs is trying to teach Paige how to skip rocks. And Paige started trying to skip rocks when my dad (AKA Papa) taught her how to throw rocks into the lake, as a way of getting her to not be scared of the water and a way to help her enjoy the lake when she can't be in her swimsuit. This gets me thinking about how much I want to give Paige -- that she deserves an army of interconnected people who love her -- and how, perhaps even though I angst about providing everything I can for her, giving her a better childhood, making better memories... in spite of (or is it because of) my angst ... she's got that army. And I think it's much more her doing than mine. But I still feel compelled to do everything I can to make sure she's absolutely surrounded by people who love and support Essential Paige, and ask nothing more of her than that. I have my moments of doubt about the job I'm doing, but she's turning out lovely in spite of me. So maybe that's saying something.

The rock in my sandal last night made me bike goofy all the way to Grumpy's (in the skirt I recently sewed). But I was sorta proud of biking through my neighborhood (in a skirt) anyhow. It make me feel smart and adorable and very Sarah. Plus, the u-lock clunking in the purse against my back made me feel all kinds of sexy.

Finally, I made strawberry jam in my sweet little kitchen yesterday afternoon to the artistic styling of Art Brut's Bang Bang Rock and Roll. I'm inherently domestic; I realize this, I embrace it. 40 pounds of strawberries, some in a coffee cake, a ton of them in jam waiting to be jarred, 5 or so pounds in the freezer, and a bowlful waiting to be dipped into farmer's market chocolate. Mmm summer.

More Reasons I'm a Proud Mama.

Rocking out to brother ali during rush hour...

In lieu of actually documenting something meaningful about my existence...

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) What Greg Likes
2) A Blog of a Good Time
3) bee-spot
4) I was told there would be bacon.
5) urbanwanderlust: roving observations of a city girl.


Now... select five people to tag:
1) Diana
2) Jana
3) Barbara
4) Mojo
5) s4xton (this is the... I don't know you, but like reading you, tag.)

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Working second-shift at a nursing home, writing letters every night to a boyfriend who was in basic training at the time, trying to decide on a major, learning my way around Minneapolis again, paying off my first car loan.

What were you doing 1 year ago?

Preparing for a trip to Ireland, saying goodbye to some of my favorite
co-workers who had just gotten laid off, furiously working on my thesis,
realizing I had all my stuff together (including the courage) to finally
get the Essential Sarah back.

Five snacks you enjoy:

1. Really fresh salty nuts.
2. Chunks of high-quality cheese.
3. any variety of fresh fruit (ooh. and pairing #2 and #3 together... genius.)
4. Cascade Fresh yogurt.
5. Right-out-of-the-garden snap peas or green beans.

Five songs you know all the lyrics to:

1. Son of a Preacher Man (Dusty Springfield)
2. Cattle and the Creeping Things (The Hold Steady)
3. Sweet Virginia (Gomez)
4. Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen)
5. Don't Get Around Much Anymore (thank you, Duke Ellington)
   

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:

1. Create a giant college trust fund for my wee lassie.
2. Pay (all) the bills. Off. And sit down with someone who can teach me how to live debt-free.
3. Buy a massive old house in a picturesque Minneapolis locale.
4. Take extravagant vacations all over the globe.
5. Give the Current more money.

Five bad habits:

1. Overcommitting.
2. Procrastinating.
3. Opening my mouth. Inserting foot.
4. Buying unnecessary pants over my lunch hour.
5. Chocolate.
   

Five things you like doing:

1. Baking. Cooking. Eating fruits of aforementioned labor.
2. Drinking.
3. Crafting. Then giving it away and letting the look on the recipient's face be my reward.
4. Playing outside.
5. Anything having to do with music.

Five things you would never wear again:

1. Neon.
2. Patterned spandex capris.
3. Wet and Wild blue eyeliner.
4. Acrylic sweaters.
5. Pleated pants.
   

Five favorite toys:

1. A 1983 gray Raleigh 10-speed.
2. The KitchenAid mixer.
3. My sewing machine.
4. The PaperSource bone folder.
5. An 80GB iPod.

I'm sorry.

So sorry.

So many wonderful (good and not-as-good) things to think on and write about and ponder, and I haven't written about a one of them.

I was under the impression I'd get less busy as a former grad student. Harumph, that didn't work at all.

Can I apologize by way of a short list?
(of course I can. My faithful 3 readers, you'll let me get away with that, right?)

Things I Have Learned Since Graduation

• Families, like the people they produce, are unique and wonderful.
• I think they way you are celebrated as you exit your life says a whole lot about who you were throughout.
• Small towns aren't where I want to live (necessarily), but they aren't anything to be scared of.
• It's damned hard to find a car everyone likes.
• I am a perfect fit for my new neighborhood.
• Even in the midst of a self-image crisis, being able to give away my old clothese to someone who needs them makes me feel like a beautiful goddess.
• You can always be busier. It's the slowing down that's hard.
• I am cursed to never grow decent rosemary.
• But I make a mean rhubarb custard (I am a killer meringue baker.)!
• Just when I think I'm not very strong, I prove it to myself otherwise.
• I'm doing a good job at work.
• I've got someone I realized I'm going to miss terribly this fall.
• But I also see that life takes you where you need to go, and it makes me excited.
• My daughter is going to learn how to read someday soon.
• When you build your life as a house of cards, it will fall down. It was only the illusion of grandeur to begin with.

Scandalous.

I (sorta) fear I was the girl having so-much-fun up front at the Tapes and Tapes show Sunday at Grand Old Day, that I might have annoyed you. I was having fun; but if I was overexuberant...

well, can you blame me, really? I had at my disposal:

• My dear friends
• Gin from a jam jar (OK, it was gin and tonic in Jana's water bottle. Drank from her purse. Even if it was a messenger bag.)
• Excellent Twin Cities music
• Warmth (read: humidity)
• Mild newbie successes at Guitar Hero
• Beer
• Sunburn
• A big fat stogie
• Anne's headband
• Jana's sunglasses
• Sass
• Corn dogs and husk-roasted corn on the cob
• A stolen cheese curd
• Flipflops (my powerwalking shoe of choice)
• A bazillion other happy Grand Old Day go-ers
• Basset Hound sightings
• Dreams of a band called Dudes with Boobs (Joel playing drums on that one)

Summer's here, kids. Make it scandalous, make it fun. Just make it memorable.

Basic training for baby tastebuds

There's a great recent NYT article on the 'kids menu' and how its onset has diminished the balanced palate in our children.

Author David Kamp points out:

meals are beige-yellow-ocher in color ... and ... are built around an entree in the breaded-chicken-nubbin family.

Yikes! Dude, you just described everything my finicky four-year-old eats. That's not acceptable. How will she ever learn to love asparagus? Or tilapia? or eggplant? and what about sushi?

I'm thoroughly disturbed, I say. And sort of feel like from now on, Paige is splitting dishes with me. If she's hungry enough, she'll eat.

up the skirt.

made you look. not necessarily up the skirt, per se, but an extreme close-up of the skirt, nonetheless. I am in love with this fabric, and wearing something I made... call me a giant dork, but there's no better feeling.

full-contact sewing with a kegerator within reach.

This is what happens when you put two women in a room with fabric from Crafty Planet, and easy skirt pattern, two sewing machines and a kegerator. The picture's blurry, but the skirt's adorable. Promise. (yes, that's me standing on a dining room chair at 11:30 on a Thursday.)

So excited to get back into making my own clothes again!

exactly.

This sums up my theory of the dining-room soul* nicely, actually:

I am thankful for the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

— Nancie J. Carmody



*(if you don't know what I mean when I say dining room soul, that's OK. I'll get around to posting about it - eventually. basically, it means I strive to be the very best hostess I can be - that I try to make hospitality the gift I can always give to the people I l0ve - and that at the end of it all, my children and grandchildren and the people I knew will remember me for having that warm dining-room, dinner-party glow about me: that the one word that sums up my relationship with other people is something like welcoming, or hospitable, or inviting, or comforting, or accepting or... well, you get it.)

Dirty Velour, is turning me on.

on this fine Thursday....

...my iPod is currently spinning a Melodious Owl song that makes me want to drink gin and tonics and get crazy-dancing at the t-rock (which I'm going to recovering from in a weeks' time, anyhoo.)

...my mind wanders into the realm of sewing skirts, and I bless the blog world for providing me with myriad patterns and tutorials.

...I am potentially kicking ass and taking names on my to-do list.

...There are 3 separate brews going in my basement, which I'm really excited about. And bottles of the last batch the DTs whipped up in April are priming in a dark corner as I type. Should be ready 'round Father's Day. Have I mentioned how much I dig on the way my house smells after we've been brewing all night?

...I'm in desperate search for a cheap used 10-speed roadbike.

...I anxiously anticipate a weekend of patio-loafing, St. Paul style, biking to Buffy, farmer's-marketing, beer-festivaling, and Grand-Old-Day sunburn and wandering. Sigh. Life is good.

More on that later.

For now, breaking news:

1) I finished the 'Jest over the holiday weekend. Feel solidly entrenched in noodling the entire book, its literary meaning, its greater relational and psychological implications, all the loose ends my mind needs to tie up, attach meaning to, come to terms with. But I will say it is perhaps my new favorite book. Certainly the best piece of modern American literature I've read to-date.

Jana was right when she said that finishing the book -- and not having it to read anymore -- is like a breakup. Dave was sage in advising I take a little reading break for a couple of weeks, just to get this book out of my system.

If you have any interest in psychology, addiction, relationships, family, nature v. nuture, post-modern commentary on America... I think I need to say, you must read this book.

2) Dave sends me a wonderful Wallace speech today, and I feel utterly compelled to preserve this nugget of wisdom from it:

The capital-T Truth is about life BEFORE death.
It is about the real value of a real education,
which has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over:

"This is water."
"This is water."

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

I, urbanwanderlust, do solemnly swear.

Alright, maybe it's not that serious.

But the DTs and I did agree on a computer-free weekend (so he won't work and I won't blog a weekend at the lake away.)

I may rue this decision if it decides to rain all damned weekend long. Or maybe we'll just go puddle-jumping, swim even if it is freezing out, make a fire, eat s'mores, and snuggle under cabin-y blankets to chase the chill away.

Damn, I love long weekends in the woods.
(We didn't make promises about not using the phone for mobile blogging... mwah hah hah hah. No pictures of me in a swimsuit -- promise. I'm too ghostly white -- and drank way too much beer this winter -- for that nonsense.

Happy holiday weekend. Chase down some happy; I know I will be. I'm heading to my happy place -- the ideal Sarah place, the place that always makes me happy, always brings me joy, always gets me to relaxing and resting and recharging. I can't wait to spend three quality days with the people I love most in the world, doing a whole lotta nothing important except being.

Cheers!

would you like to tapeworm that?

You know, we always joked about a tapeworm being the easy way to drop a few pounds.
But crikey. For real?
(Thanks to Jezebel for pointing this out. She's really doing us all a community service. And I'll thank Jess for pointing out the delight that is Jezebel. What would I do if not for leeching links off other people...)

<3 you, Nordeast.

So this very broken fire hydrant caught my eye as we were driving 'round Bottineau over the weekend (or was it Monday? No, I'm sure it was the weekend...)

At any rate, I love the oh-so-obvious sign: NOT IN SERVICE. O RLY? Because it may not be obvious to anyone else, but it's coming apart in the middle. So you don't think there's an active connection to a water main inside that 4-inch gap?

Gee golly.

oh, these are the people in your neighborhood.

Neat.

Looks like my fabulous little neighborhood now has it's own website.
Northeast Minneapolis Arts District

I have been there for a month now -- and have I mentioned how very much I love it?

• Quiet
• Normal, working-class people live there
• Birds. I can open my windows and hear the birds!
• Walk to: about 150 art galleries, bike shop, coffee shop, any number of catholic churches, the Polish Deli, 331, Grumpy's, Modern Cafe, Ritz, Emily's Lebanese.
• Bike to work
• Or take a 12-minute bus ride
• Gardening in the backyard
• Neighbors that don't play trance-electronica at 1AM

an open letter to my (future) adult daughter

Having a daughter is a funny thing. For me, many times, it's looking at this little girl growing up before my eyes, all tiny and happy and full of life, curious and still awed by the simple things, and knowing she's looking back at me thinking, that is the smartest woman on the planet. She's the epitomy of womanhood, and she's the one woman in the world I trust everything to. She's my role model. She knows everything about being a girl, about being a mom, about being strong and intelligent and beautiful and courageous.

It's heavy, sometimes, to look into those big blue eyes and see such faith placed in such an imperfect me. But it also makes me feel honored and proud, that anyone - anyone! - on the planet would trust me with so much, put so much stock in my meager life experience, would look up to me. Diana and I often have the conversation/philisophical volley about only those who actually are competent ever question their competency... but it gets me to thinking about being a good mom.

I say good, because I mean good and not perfect. I am not perfect, and won't be. I sometimes get annoyed, or cannot answer a preschooler question while merging into rush hour traffic, and snap at my sweet little girl who didn't really do anything wrong. Sometimes, its easier to sit and watch Finding Nemo for the 1132nd time than it is to work on learning how to read. And some days, I just give up on "two more bites" or "drink all your milk" and just let her have the blessed bowl of ice cream.
I know things don't get easier as we both get older. She's going to run into conflict with other girls (or boys) at school. She's going to get her feelings hurt, her knees scraped, her ego bruised. She's going to have to face a bully, or a mean girl. She's going to struggle to learn something (I was a total kiddie nerd and angsted all through elementary school about my phys ed and handwriting grades).
And then she's going to turn into a pre-teen or whatever they are calling those kids now. And I'm going to get really stupid for about 5 or 6 years. I will have no taste in fashion, or music. I'll know nothing about friendships or relationships. I will have no idea what it's like to be an angsty teenager (even though, christ, some days I still feel like I am an angsty teenager. Well, not quite so bad as it was. But the memory doesn't really fade like I thought my parents' memories of angsty teenhood did... huh.)

So, while she's still cute and adoring me, and while I'm still marvelling at the delighfulness that is childhood - I want to tell my future daughter something:

Daughter mine, sweet child who will always be perfectly herself:

Don't ever doubt how very much I love you. I know we're not always going to see eye to eye - and I know you and I both have stubborn streaks that try most everyone around us - and I know that you and I are both going to make choices over the course of our lives that confound one another. That being said: I'd jump in front of a freight train for you, in half a heartbeat, even at my most exasperated. You are my daughter, and in the four years I've been blessed with you, you have taught me more than I ever thought I could learn from another person. I cannot imagine how you will shape me for the remainder of my days; I can only pray and hope I do as good a job shaping you in the 14 years of childhood I have left.

My goals for you are happiness, contentment, and fulfillment. I want for you, daughter mine, a life filled with joy. I want you to find work that makes you happy, that makes you feel purposeful and fulfilled. I want your life to be filled with respectful, healthy relationships with friends and family who cherish you, fully. I want you to experience nonjudgemental, unwavering, unconditional love. I don't really care how you find happiness. It doesn't matter to me what you do for work - who you fall in love with - where you live - where you study - what brings you joy. I'm actually really excited to just come along with you on the journey and watch you unfold into the Essential Paige someday. I'm honored that I will get to be there.

Because I want you to find fulfillment, contentment, and happiness, I have to uphold a certain part of this equation. I have to fulfill some obligation, some promise as your parent. I promise to expose you to and demonstrate to you repsectful, mature, caring relationships. I promise to provide you with good friends and family that nurture who you are, uniquely. I promise to laugh with you as much as I can, and cry with you when you need it. And I promise to back off when you need to try things on your own. With the caveat that I'll always be just a few steps behind if you need backup. I promise to teach you how to handle the crap life invariably doles out, but I'll teach you how to handle it like an adult. I promise to teach you how to respect others, how to stand up for yourself without being selfish, how to reach your goals, how to be happy in the moment and enjoy the journey. Most of all, I promise to support the Essential Paige, however she needs to be supported. I promise to listen. I promise to apologize when I screw up. I promise to forgive you when you do the same.

When you think of it, sweet Paige, it is strangely awesome to be a mom. A lot of it is mostly unpleasant and definitely self-sacrificial, when you look at it on paper -- but it never feels that way. And if you want to be a mom someday too (and you don't have to be), it will be equally awesome to share my experience raising you as you raise a child of your own.

These words don't mean much to you now, all 4-years-old and ready to absorb all the learning the world has to offer -- and they probably aren't going to mean much to you in 10 years when I'm just mean old mom. But someday, I want you to know: everything I did raising you was aimed at helping you be Perfectly Paige. It was intentional (although it's not going to be a perfect attempt at parenting). And it all grew out of this giant-sized love and respect I have for you, love you just don't understand til you try a hand at parenting for yourself (and even then, wonder half the time how all that love fits inside your tiny little adult heart that's so full of other crap to worry about).

whoopsie daisy.

heh.
This is entirely plausible, I'm sure. Since I won't be graduating from anything next May, I'll have to be sure to hit Art-a-Whirl: in my neighborhood, local art, and man, does this kind sound like my kind of party.

some days are better than others

Some days, folks, I wonder if this is my future...
(Courtesy of Savage Chickens. Yay!)

momentous

it's been a sortof challenge to myself over the last 2 or so months to make sure I have listened to and ranked every song in my music collection on iTunes. Now, it's only 7000+ songs, so I don't feel like that was necessarily an insane goal -- and I don't feel like I have so much music I can't possibly know the whole catalog -- but I was definitely rutting into the same playlists for a while.

So I made a to-listen playlist that held anything that hadn't yet been played through. At its inception, I had about 1500 songs to go through.

This morning on the bus ride in - I cleared my list. It's a tiny momentous occasion for me, if only because I have honestly listened to 2000 or so new songs (I got a bunch of new music between the time I started my list and now) in the last couple of months, and feel like I have broadened my tasted in music somewhat because of it.

I also feel like I can put my iPod on shuffle now without guilt that there's something "unlistened" still waiting for me. Damned guilt, always eating at me at silly little dark corners of my neuroses.

art!

Bring it.

This is a bunch of graffiti artists going to town on a Scottish castle.
Awesome!

growin' up: its not just for toddlers anymore.

The more one worries, the older one gets;

the more one laughs, the younger one feels.

(chinese proverb)

4 years ago today, a spunky, sassy, infectiously extroverted little girl graced my life for the first time. I have watched her grow from a tiny newborn, to a determined (read: stubborn) infant. I was there to help her learn how to eat, how to walk, how to turn the pages of books through toddlerhood. In the life of a preschooler, I've watched a tiny baby develop into a completely dynamic, sensitive, others-centered little girl with an amazing command of her native tongue, exquisite taste in music, and a heart so big it makes mine want to burst.

Through it all, we've taught one another how to be patient. How to be gentle. How to not settle. How to demand the life we so richly deserve.

Happy fourth birthday to my beautiful little girl. I hope one day, she'll understand how often I just sit here in awe of how perfectly Paige she's always been.

Go take a rest; you deserve it.

I mentioned last week the completely appropriate fortune cookie that shooed me to take a nap.
I wish I'd have listened to it, as my weekend was equal parts wonderful and frantically paced. I did get to rest my head in my sweetheart's lap for about an hour or so yesterday afternoon (best. mother's day gift. ever) before we hit the greenhouse for plants... but alas, as tired as I have been - no real rest.

And errands tonight, Paige's birthday tomorrow. Plans on Wednesday and Thursday, and time to plan for and prep for graduation on Saturday. Blissfully non-busy on Sunday. I want to read the paper, eat a lazy brunch, perhaps water the garden, and otherwise, become one with relaxation.

I don't know that I've ever looked so forward to spending a 3-day weekend at the cabin, come Memorial Day. I mean, I always look forward to having some quality time with my lake, my grandparents, with Premium and magazines and catching sunfish and really, not doing anything of importance except enjoying life. This year, however, it's like I'm suddenly awash with the last month's worth of accomplishments - and I need a giant, 3-day-nap to recouperate from it all.

Jana inadvertently challenges me to a Friday Five.

1. suppose, for totally moral but still illegal reasons, you've killed a man. where do you hide the body?

Perhaps I don't hide it at all. Perhaps I hang it on a post in my front yard as a warning to anyone else who wants to cross me.
***
2. if you were only allowed 3 pairs of shoes for the rest of your life, what shoes would they be and why?

black kitten heels
brown danskos
running shoes

I am all kinds of creative and ridiculous in many facets of my life. But I am all practicality when it comes to shoes.
***
3. if, instead of going to work next monday, you had to relive a day from your childhood, what would it be?

Give me any 95 degree, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky, summer day at my grandparent's backyard pool.
***
4. suppose that through a combination of apocalyptic disaster and spontaneous collective memory loss, the human race no longer has the means or knowledge to brew beer. what do you drink when you get home from work?

I sign my will and trust, kiss my daughter goodbye, and drink a gallon of Dran-o.
A mojito would also do the trick (at least if it's warm out), and there's nothing like hot cider and whiskey after being out in the cold too long.
***
5. the perfect chocolate chip cookie: chewy or crunchy?

When warm: chewy and buttery
After cooling: cripsy edges with a flat, chewy center. Delicious and perfect when dunked in cold glass of milk. Damn. Now I want cookies.

*****

Since Jana was kind enough to tag me with five questions at my behest, I'll put the same offer out there. You want questions? You just let me know. I'll give YOU questions, sister (or brother, for that matter... this is a gender-equality-friendly blog.)

song of the day

I may not always love you

But long as there are stars above you

You never need to doubt it

I'll make you so sure about it
God only knows what I'd be without you
If you should ever leave me

Though life would still go on believe me

The world could show nothing to me

So what good would living do me
God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows what I'd be without you
If you should ever leave me

Well life would still go on believe me

The world could show nothing to me

So what good would living do me
God only knows what I'd be without you

God only knows what I'd be without you

God only knows

utterly lovely.

IMG_0120.jpg, originally uploaded by jakemohan.

Is there anything I like to see more than this?

(the correct answer is no. No, we all know you are obsessed with your Grain Belt, you insane Minneapolis woman.)

I just want a girl who'll hold my hand

Bang, Bang, Rock and Roll, my friends. It's gorgeous, it's May, it's Friday. I'm drinking iced coffee, loving my new neighborhood (long live the NE Arts District.)

There's something especially marvelous about driving past the old Grain Belt Brewery each morning when I drop Paige off at daycare. I need to spend some quality time on my bike with my camera in the neighborhood in upcoming weeks.

Which probably means I should stop by the neighborhood bike shop.

I'm in a great mood today - possibly because I was able to relax(!) for the first time in oh, 6 years, without some to-do for school rolling around in the back of my head. Ah. Accomplishment.

I always did love a happy ending.

Done!

Let's all take a moment to admire a completed, bindered, and ready-to-turn-in thesis, shall we? I even got it done a day early -- man, with time to spare! I'm so slacking on my procrastination skills...

(Dave is going to kill me for saying that).

Hello, Sarah's real life? Yes, she's done with her master's program now. Expect her to join you shortly.