photo envy.
i don't do weddings. i don't like to. i require a rather good sob story in order to do one. i had one this year, just a few weeks ago. the assistant i brought shot my brother's wedding last weekend, so it worked out well... i got a good assistant and she got some more of the experience she wanted. she just sent me her pictures from the wedding we did together, and i have to confess... i am literally jealous of some shots. she's very good. now don't get me wrong... i'm okay with this-remember when i said i don't like to do weddings? i just thought i'd share.
my wildest dreams.
when i woke up this morning to the darkness and rain, i had no idea it would be the day that one of my wildest dreams would come true. but it did. oh, it did indeed.
i started to write a post earlier today regarding tonya's response to not knowing there were no more pudding pops. i was going to tell the story about the day in college that i discovered they no longer existed. about the petition i started that eventually contained hundreds of names. about how people were surprised they couldn't buy them anymore. about how i realized that awareness was the key, as it is with yard crime (this is a dreadful topic to look forward to, as we are coming in to the season for it. be patient.). people needed to know that they could no longer snack on that creamy mix of chocolate and vanilla, so that action could happen. unfortunately, the semester got busy and the movement petered out. i'm not sure what made me think of them that day that i posted, but i did. in writing this post, i had wanted to give the history of pudding pops, more specifically the year they stopped making them. so i googled pudding pops and found a site that proclaimed them to be new! no. it couldn't be. it's a cruel trick. i clicked on locations and found three cub foods in the area that carry them. i had to call the closest one to confirm that they were indeed there. yes, said the annoyed sales boy, they are. i found a fellow fan and we drove to brooklyn park at lunch.
and friends, as i write, i am enjoying the creamy vanilla of a pudding pop.
i know. it's hard to believe. but i'm typing with one hand.
i am brought back to my grandmother's kitchen on a warm summer day. i am loving the layer of ice that comes free with every delectable treat. i am licking the stick. i am wishing i weren't.
friends, i hereby declare this heaven on a stick.
kin.
i'm very disappointed that i didn't make it to the bloggers meeting yesterday, but i had a good excuse... my cousin jenny and her husband were in from rapid city and i wanted to catch up with them before they took off again. it was worth it, but i am bummed.one of my younger brothers got married on saturday (i promise to post pictures later). i loved the chance to be with (almost) all my cousins at once. i love my cousins. i love my family in general. i love that i can be friends with them. knowing that they have my back and i have theirs. i love that we invest in each others' lives. i love that my cousins' children know who i am and look forward to seeing me. i love that i get to have relationships with those i am related to. and i love that we laugh together.not one of us is perfect, but we're real. a few years ago, i was informed that what we have is not normal. or rather, not common. i wouldn't trade it for the life i always thought i needed.after the reception, i was driving a blazer-full of people that i love, and i'm pretty sure that brandon, my cousin vicki's husband, summed it up as well as it could be summed up. he rather loudly declared, 'i married into the coolest family ever!' and you know, he's right.
pain.
i'm wounded. and it stings. perhaps i should have prefaced that with the fact that i have a rather high tolerance for pain. but today, i wince.
i ate alone again today. don't feel bad for me-it's really okay. it's not that people don't like me, they just ate elsewhere. besides, i eat two-thirds of my meals alone, so i like the solitude. but that's not why i'm wounded. it's related, but not the cause. when i eat alone, it doesn't take as long because i don't talk as much and i decided to take the second half of my lunch and explore trails that someone had told me were out there on the grounds. i grabbed my camera and headed out. i walked for a few minutes and then i seemed to run out of trail. i didn't know where else to go, so i decided to blaze a trail (this is along the same line of thinking that had me
mowing my yard in a skirt). so, i walked carefully through the thorny plants and dried grass until i encountered a fallen tree. the part of the tree that covered my path was near the top. the branches were everywhere and not small enough just to break off. did that deter me? it should have. a skirt and mary janes are not necessarily prime scrambling-over-a-tree shoes. but no, of course it didn't deter me. i had seen somewhere i wanted to be with my camera and so i stood up on the biggest branch available and set my camera down towards the other side of the tree. i stood there for a moment before i decided that i should jump over the rest of the branches.
great plan. it would have worked. it should have. if that branch hadn't shot up when i jumped off of the other one. since i lead with my right leg when jumping, that was the shin that caught the branch first. i was able to swing my left leg up and around to avoid the obstacle and land with that foot, turn around and get my right leg up and over before i face-planted in the middle of some rather prickly-looking plants. i brushed the debris off my pride, picked up my camera and meandered along my non-existent path. only when i was back on an actual path did i realize how badly torn my leg was. well, how badly scratched it was. it did swell up a bit. even now, the pain has subsided considerably and i'm sure i'm just being a wuss about it all, but
it hurt. and i'm really glad it was my leg and not my face. and that the dress i have to wear for my brother's wedding on saturday is long.
the really sad thing about it all, is that i didn't even take a picture. not one. after the debacle with the tree, i had a really hard time thinking the destination was worth it. the weeds were getting thicker and the ground soggier. in the better interest of my shoes, i decided to head back to civilization. on a different trail.
about a girl.
In response to
Jan's request, here goes...
Getting to Know Me…
Things I want to do before I die:
1. kayak really scary rapids.
2. finish the floors in my house.
3. remember to sit in my garden and listen.
4. learn to play the violin.
5. take
the picture.
6. find a hand to hold.
Things I can do:
1. take a picture.
2. find beauty.
3. make a mean lasagna.
4. love.
5. talk.
6. climb a tree.
Things I cannot do:
1. dye my hair.
2. sing well.
3. wear size 6 shoes.
4. drink coffee.
5. stop reading.
Things that attract me to my husband:
1. still working on this... when i find him, i'll let you know.
Celebrity crushes (???):
1. matthew mcconaughey.
2. michael vartan.
People I want to do this next:
1.
Joel2.
Erin 3.
Cindy4.
Terry5.
JesseThis sort of feels like a forward, so in that spirit... pass this on to five people and make a wish. in five days, just wait to see what will happen! all your dreams will come true! they'll finally bring back pudding pops!
jake armerding.
on october 29, one of my favorite musicians will be playing at the ginkgo. it would be great if you would come and support him. he hasn't played in minnesota much at all, but i'd love to see the fan base grow so that he plays here more. his music is 'a seamless blend of bluegrass and folk' and has been known to be enjoyed by people of all shapes and sizes. you can check out a few clips if you want, or ask me and i'll get you some. the show is at 7:30 and the tickets (which i guess should be purchased in advance) can be reserved now and will be somewhere between $8 and $12. he's playing with some guy named mark erelli, who i can't vouch for and sounds a bit nasally in the few clips i heard. BUT, jake is worth it.
accidental grass trimmage.
i accidentally mowed my yard last night. someone told me that's impossible, but it isn't. because i did it.
when i got home from work, i went to get my garbage can from the street and noticed that my neighbors across the street were home. wanting so very badly to put up my mailbox, i took a deep breath and went to introduce myself and find out if i could have it in their yard. no problem there, but when i was walking back home, i noticed how utterly long the grass really was in the front yard. i decided to quickly mow the front section so that at least the neighbors wouldn't talk. so i took my skirted self to the garage to get the mower and trimmed the front. i decided to at least make one path in the backyard on the way to the garage to help myself out this weekend when i would have to finish. somehow that one path turned into two and then three and then the whole dang yard. i felt very amish. out there mowing in a skirt. although if i were amish, i wouldn't have a gas-fueled mower. perhaps more hudderite than amish. at any rate, i accidentally mowed my yard. i'm not sure why and i never intended to mow the whole thing. in fact, i kept telling myself that this was the last row.
it's like when you're presented with a new pint of edy's peanut butter cup ice cream and you say just one spoonful and it turns out to be the biggest spoonful known to man because now the cream's all gone.
tubes of death.
my brothers have been tubing all summer. and i still have three brothers. amazing, huh?
ben said to me the other day... you haven't done any tubing pictures this summer. so, on labor day, i did.
i tubed with them. once.
surprisingly, that was enough for me.
duluth.
these are from my trip to duluth a couple of weeks ago.
i loved being able to spend time with my friend rachel and be in her city and her days.
we simply do not do that enough.
brake abuse.
i'm a stopper. i begin to slow down well before each stop sign i see and i ensure that my car is fully stopped before proceeding onwards. i'm a stopper. my driving record would beg to differ, but it's all a misunderstanding. my record contains no speeding tickets, no accidents (that time i got hit by the semi didn't get reported...), no reckless driving. failure to stop at a stop sign, however? ironic, really, that i honestly stop at all i see, but i speed like a race horse most days. there are two incidents on my record, the third i fought and had cleared.
the fall after i graduated from high school, i decided to see what all the fuss was about. i had ridden in cars with my brothers and their friends when, approaching a certain intersection, they would shut off their lights and, satisfied that there were no cars coming, proceed through the intersection without stopping at the sign. it was late on a wednesday night. i was sick. i had just downed some nyquil and was preparing for bed when my mother asked me to run some papers over to someone's house. i begrudgingly went and it was on this ill-fated trip that i shut my lights off, checked for oncoming traffic and took the intersection going about 70. on the other side, i flipped the lights back on and shrugged my shoulders. no big deal. as i cruised along down the country road, i suddenly was assaulted by the flashing lights of a police car. as i waited to be brought in, searched and left to die in a cold, dark corner of the county prison, i kicked myself for being so stupid.
why do i speed? the officer let me know that they didn't care much about the speeding, but were quite curious as to why i turned my lights off to go through the intersection. after being accused of being drunk (of course i would be, it being a wednesday night and all), they made me walk the line, shined that stupid light in my eyes a few too many times and gave me a ticket. i feigned no innocence. i made no excuses. when asked why i didn't stop, i let them know that this time, i simply had not wanted to.
the day i mailed in the payment for the first ticket i had ever received, i was accused of running a stop sign on a bus. this, my friends, was the one that i contested. i was jerked around the system, but i prevailed and the ticket was removed. and though i didn't have a probation officer, i can say that once, i was on probation.
years would go by before i would have another run-in, but it came one cold november afternoon during my search for any remaining cities 97 samplers. in an area i didn't know, i pulled into a parking spot at target and got out, only to be greeted by an officer who had parked his car behind mine. to prevent a mad escape, i'm certain, since i look the type to irrationally be convinced that this 86 cutlass of my brothers could outrun and outsmart the squad car. to my
utter surprise, i had run a stop sign. i had to ask the officer where the alleged incident took place. as he pointed out the crime scene, i wondered to myself why i hadn't seen it. only later, while reconstructing the crime in my mind, did i remember that the sign was blocked by a rather large truck. i remembered the car coming from the other direction, waiting to turn left. i sped up so as not to make him wait longer. oh, silly me. of course, by now, it looks like i have a problem with stopping at signs. like i care not a whim whether i endanger my own life and the lives of other travellers. and of course there is no record that states that i have stopped at
every single other stop sign in the last seven years. so i took the ticket and made my way into the store to find that the cd was sold out.
what, you may be asking, made me write of these incriminations of my character today? i have noticed one particular stop sign that i have trouble stopping at on my morning commute. for some reason, i don't slow down like i normally do and then i have to push
really hard on my brakes to stop before i am halfway across the intersection (i usually only make it about a quarter of the way into the road). perhaps the stop sign is smaller than regulation, so i think it's farther away. perhaps, it's a morning thing. perhaps it's the hill i have to drive up before the stop sign. i don't know. but i seem to be unable to stop properly at it. and as i realized that this morning, i prayed that i would never meet a patrol car there. may the eyes of the law never see my unintentional pushing the limits of it. oh, Lord, have mercy.
unexpected fun.
who would have thought that the most fun i would have all summer would be running around in the pitch black hallways of an old catholic retreat center looking for the sardine?
what?when the entire staff was invited to go on this two day retreat, i have to admit i was skeptical about how fun it would be for me. it was the shortest commute i'll have all year, taking only ten minutes to get there from home. i knew it would be a struggle to feel like i was
getting away when everything around the center were places i see on a regular basis. tuesday, i made the fatal mistake of
going home (insert horrified gasp here) during our free time. it was wonderful... i picked some tomatoes, pulled some seeds from my gardens, picked up the mail. but it hindered my ability to separate myself from everyday life. wednesday was better, as i didn't leave the grounds at all. i spent my free time with sandi, giving ourselves a self-guided tour of the buildings. we let ourselves into beckoning doors not written about in the guide, made up the information that was missing and decided to offer guided tours next year. it was a wonderful day. next year, i know that i will have to become a prisoner of the king's house and not leave the grounds. it's for my own good, really.
but wait, you say. what about the sardine? ah. the sardine.
what started out as a late-night game of hide-and-seek turned into a game of sardines. very similar to hide-and-seek with the only exception being that you must hide with the "sardine" when you find him or her. and it's done in the dark-you can't turn lights on. and you have to be silent (that's so that no one comes barrelling out of their room yelling at you for being loud). last week, ben was telling me how freaky it was when they played last year, and i chastised him for it. it's just the dark. there's nothing to be afraid of. he said, but you're surrounded by all these statues of saints and monastic motifs. i felt rather convicted as i searched a dark hallway, tightly holding hands with his wife. it
was freaky. but it was
so much fun. and the more people that would find their way to the hiding place, the sillier it would get. especially when there are only two more people out there, you hear them walking on the steps above you and then hear them leaving without finding you because it was too dark and scary. boys. they're so skittish. the other element that added to the fun was that you were running down halls and looking in darkened prayer rooms that are frequented by nuns and priests during the daylight hours. there's something to that. i may not be catholic, but there's still a reverence for them.
and from my very own experience, if you're ever looking in a closet at the end of a darkened hallway and someone turns off the nightlight at the other end, just run. just run to what little light there is. run for your life.
