A Reflection on 72 Hours of Wilderness

I have been attempting to compose, organize, and draft my thoughts on my recent trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness (BWCA) for several days now, but it is much harder than I thought.  Perhaps, much like the photos I captured while there, my storytelling can't really do that part of the world the justice it deserves. 

I thought about giving you the play by play-- detailing each lake, each portage, each mosquito-infested campsite, and relaying the horrors that are northwoods latrines. 

But it still didn't seem big enough.

So what I came up with is quite a bit simpler, a little more abstract.

To be in a wilderness so dense and unspoilt is an incredibly humbling experience. The moment the paddle shatters the reflected forest on the surface of the cool, clean lake I had to involuntarily surrender control to my environment. The weather, downed trees, nosy wildlife; they all have the ability to overpower the skills I bring with me.  There is only a small smattering of people, scattered few and far between, and travelers can't count on seeing anyone.  You certainly can't count on anyone having a working communication device. 

Those things in mind, I think it is a space that redefines 'trouble.'  To be in trouble here at home (flat tire, late bus, broken appliance, and so on) is really to be inconvenienced.  To be in trouble in the BWCA is to be in trouble.

To be in the BWCA is also empowering.  There is that beautiful feeling of chasing (and then catching!) an experience many people don't get to have.  It is a place ripe for accomplishing many things, from the simple breakfast cooked over a camp stove to the 232 rod portage.  It fosters a great sense of independence and self-reliance.  At the same time, it makes one put a lot of trust in the person they travel with-- trust that that person will have your best interests and safety in mind, trust that that person will communicate, trust that that person will not get (too) frustrated. 

I think I may have said this about rural North Dakota too, but if there is such thing as 'God's Country,' the BWCA is it.  I cannot think of many places that I have been to that inspired me with a sunrise, amazed me  and challenged throughout the day, instilled great fear and respect for my surroundings in me as the sunset washed the world in a purple shadow, and then gently rocked me to sleep with the most stars I have ever seen in one night and the gentle lullabye of wilderness in the nighttime. 

My words, like photos that just look like water, trees, and sky, do not begin to really describe this magnificent place.

On the Plains of North Dakota

Beautiful? Sure.  For a little bit.

By hour 8 on Interstate 94, headed westward through North Dakota from Minneapolis, this view gets a little old.  In fact, by the 8th hour in the car you have run out of stories for your road trip teammates to catch up on your hectic summer life.  You have already passed the giant bison in Jamestown:

and the world's largest holstein cow in New Salem (I don't know those people):



Apparently, this cow's name is Salem Sue.  Thanks, Google!

The land, while beautiful, is so empty that even your game of "those are my cows" has fizzled.  There simply are no cows to claim.  As the car travels west, the soft, flat landscape of the Dakota plains begins to give rise to a few rocky bursts as we hit the very earliest signs of the North Dakota Badlands and one road trip teammate cracks an "I like big buttes" joke that gets far more laughter than it deserves. Everything is funny during the 8th hour.

The road is flooded about 50 miles out of Dickinson, ND (our final destination) and everyone slows to a painful 45 miles per hour after sailing across the state at 80 or 85.  Passengers are overwhelmed by the feeling that we never want to be in a car again. For the rest of our lives. 

Phone calls and texts from Dickinson start coming in with less than an hour to go: "We're all checked in, can't wait to see you guys!" "Are you close?" "Will you pick up at least one case of beer?" "I think the groom's dinner includes free beer and wine." These messages feel like twinkling lights on the horizon-- we will make it and it will be good.

And it was good.  In truth, as boring as the drive can be at times, you cannot at some point be overwhelmed by the beauty and serenity of huge plots of land that remain virtually untouched.  It made me think, If there is such thing as 'God's country,' this truly must be it. And there is a charm to small towns that cannot be matched by the excitement and glamour of bustling cities.  Residents and strangers alike are all old friends, and life moves at a pace that allows one to truly enjoy a lively conversation over a hot breakfast and the summer breeze caught in the veil of a new bride.

Though a thousand-mile-round-trip-in-the-span-of-72-hours mini-vacation wasn't always riveting, the truth is I would have traveled much further and much longer to celebrate the wedding of dear friends, who now embark on a far greater journey of love, partnership, and compromise. 

May they continue to laugh at one another's 'big butte' jokes and not take every opportunity to kill the other's cows with each passing cemetery.

Drugging Your Cat and Other Thursday Night Things To Do

A few weeks ago-- maybe even over a month now-- I became the owner/feeder/keeper of this charming orange ball of fury kitty.

This model of cat (who I named Jasper, after Jasper Johns who is a famous American artist) comes complete with 20 extremely sharp claws, a mouthful of needle sharp teeth, and one giant attitude.  Unfortunately, right after I got him, I was involved in the tornado response in North Minneapolis and any sense of regularity and schedule he and I had started to develop was totally destroyed.

Since then, we have had a series of minor, but no less annoying, owner-cat issues.  Some hyperactivity, some aggression, some attempts to destroy things that I would rather not have destroyed thankyouverymuch.  I tried feeding him more, and then less, and then different. We have reestablished a schedule, as much as possible.  We play for no less than 15 minutes every morning and every night.

And yet, the following things have happened this week:

1. At one point in the evening, I found him completely underneath my area rug in the living room.

2. He climbed through the blinds.  And then got stuck.

3. He wedged himself in the space between the storm window and the inside window. And then got stuck. 

4. He jumped onto the shower curtain rod. And then got stuck.

5. He spent 45 minutes at 3 AM jumping on the wall after a dead bug and letting the pads of his feet squeeeeeak all the way down the wall on his way back to the floor, where he landed with a thud! and a MEOW! before promptly jumping again. 

6. My feet have been attacked while I was doing the following: sweeping, sleeping, stepping into the shower, stepping out of the shower, coming into my apartment, leaving the apartment, sitting on the couch, feeding the cat.

And the truthiest truth  is that I love him for his quirks and the strange trouble he gets himself into. But tonight I was at Petco and I saw these treats (he loves a tuna treat!) that help calm cats.  Like, uh, kitty Xanax.  I had actually been told about this once before-- some herbal supplements to basically get your cat to just chill the eff out.  And I was totally against it! I wasn't going to drug my cat! I was simply going to love the bad behavior right out of him! 

At the moment I was walking away, I remembered a story a grad school classmate told me about traveling when she was a child.  When she was little her parents used to give all their kids Benadryl or some other drowsy-making medication that made them all zonk out for the duration of a flight or road trip.  So the kids basically had no recollection of traveling-- just being in new places.  It's not that these parents didn't love their kids, they just also valued their own sanity.  So for $5.99 I thought I would just try it, and if I ended up with some doped up, tuna treat addict for a cat, we could stop. Enter him into detox, and then stop, really.

I walked into the apartment at 5:47 PM and the moment of truth occurred just before 6 PM.  And guess what? He wasn't doped up, he didn't just crash and sleep the whole night.  In fact, he still got in a little bit of trouble.  But he wasn't on the verge of psychosis.  More importantly, I was not on the verge of psychosis. He was playful and he even bit me once, for old time sake.  But now, as we wind down for bed he is actually winding down.  Let the choir sing.  

The packaging says I can give him 1-2 per day.  $6 per pack, 21 treats in the pack = $2 per week for a happier household that I think we are both appreciating.  I can handle that. 

"Those cows are mine," the horse dog, 4 trombones, and other tales from south of the border

I know this is oh-so-late.  Forgive me. 

In the midst of a very emotionally and physically trying few weeks at work, I was granted my Memorial Day weekend and traveled to Decorah, Iowa.  I had previously only been to Iowa once and my experience can be summed up as: sludge in the hotel pool, stale donut for breakfast, an airplane engine for an air condition, and Ft. Madison prison.  Other than this trip, my ideas about Iowa came mostly from pop culture references such as:

This I like because, even though I don't know these guys, they are demonstrating an important fact about Iowa-- the highest elevation in the state is in a corn field. 

So, against my best judgment, I let myself be carted across the border on a sunny Friday afternoon, headed to Iowa.  Decorah, specifically, a place where 80 percent of the homes have gnomes in their yards or windows and no fewer than half the flagpoles fly the banners of Sweden or Norway, is an incredibly peaceful respite from the hustle of the Twin Cities. 

On the way, Aaron taught me a car game that I feel is perfect for driving through the heart of the Midwest: Those Cows Are Mine.  The rules are simple-- if you see a herd or small grouping of cows, you simply exclaim to all other people in the car, "Those cows are mine."  There is no counting of cows or herds; there is no score.  And if you see a cemetery, you want to be the first person to unleash havoc on everyone else's cow collecting by declaring, "Your cows are dead."  In all fairness, the passenger has a clear, insurmountable advantage in that they can look far and wide for the most hidden heard of cows to quickly claim as their own. 

Once I had claimed all of the Minnesota-Iowa cows I could, we arrived in Decorah and drove straight to Luther College, Aaron's undergraduate institution of learning and tromboning and other things uniquely college/young 20's.  The self-guided tour included the following distinct features of Luther College: The CFL, where music is played on a grand stage for a packed house; the Union; the library, including a Japanese rock garden under the stairs and a visit to the study corral Aaron used to do much of his research and writing; the library lawn; the music practice rooms; the art building; the science building; the gym where an infamous "Hard Body Plan" once took place; and various other significant buildings, landmarks, and lawns.

Decorah has a certain magnetic pull that seems to be an especially strong force on young men with large brass instruments in their trunks.  We met up with two of Aaron's closest friends from college (as well as the joyous fiancee of one of them), who also are accomplished trombone players (trombonists? tromboners? I am not sure...).  One of the best parts of the trip was driving down some rural roads just outside Decorah, 5 young adults in a powder blue Prius, sunburnt and relaxed after a day of site-seeing and frisbee golfing, to a small white farmhouse.  We pulled in to see four chairs and four music stands pre-arranged for the evening festivities-- a concert by a garage band, if garage band means impromptu trombone quartet.  It was an incredibly soothing experience for me, having just come from a city literally torn apart by disaster, to laze in a chair in the middle of the country and listen to four gentlemen make music and shoot the breeze.  It is here that we also met the horse dog, Magne.  Magne is a giant black Great Dane with the running gait of a fish out of water and sweet, sweet eyes.  While Magne is Norwegian for "fierce warrior," I would describe him as a pretty gentle giant. 

I am realizing this post is starting to get long, and probably isn't very cohesive... I apologize, but it is hard to weave into my own experience each of the stories shared by the young men about what the people and places in Decorah mean to them and this very strong kinship between them and this sort of fairytale place.  Every story has this fantastical, larger-than-life quality that makes you fall in love with all the characters.  I can say, hopefully with great clarity, that it is always wonderful to be welcomed into a group of close friends nearly immediately and with such warmth.  So much so, in fact, that sleeping 5 across in a 4 person tent is only crowded, but never awkward.

Spring Training 2011 and why the months of April (and maybe May and June), September, and October are going to be difficult

Hockey pre-season starts in September and regular season goes through April.  Play-offs and the Stanley Cup championships go all the way until the 2nd week of June.  

This makes it nearly impossible to also be a fan of a sport in which the pre-season starts late February and regular season starts in April (this covers the most critical period of hockey's regular season).  Further, post-season play could end up stretching into October, overlapping with hockey's earliest drops of the pucks.   

And, after all, I do live in the State of Hockey.  Not the State of Baseball.

But something makes me think I might slowly be turning a corner, and I may have to be a two-sport fanatic.  I am sure it has nothing to do with 4 beautiful days in Ft. Myers, FL, attending my first outdoor professional baseball games, third row tickets, ballpark hot dogs, fabulous company, or the awesomeness that is: a foam finger.  

Reverb 11: February

One month in to 2011, what question(s) are you living?  Are there any prompts from Reverb10 that are still resonating in you life? Are you living new questions?


I took some much needed time this morning to read my Reverb10 posts-- I needed some time to refocus and recenter myself and I think, even though I didn't recognize it at the time, I needed to read those posts too.  The Reverb prompts are so great at challenging me to look at the good and the bad in myself, my experiences, my year and put it all in words.  Own my accomplishments, and failures too.

From all 31 posts in December, I discovered the following themes are still resonating with me and inspiring some of the things I am doing in 2011:

1. Continue to GROW even when it is painful.
2. I learn more about myself and my limits (or lack of) with every mile I RUN.
3. STOP WAITING.
4. CREATE whenever possible.  Create LAUGHTER always.
5.  Be CONFIDENT in my beauty, inside and out.
6.  CELEBRATE the little things, the lucky things, and the things that happen by chance.
7. In 24 years I have cultivated some of the most amazing RELATIONSHIPS.  Hang tight to those.
8. It's not always easy, but there's NO GIVING UP.  
9. The simplest JOYS are in front of me all the time.  There is no need to search.
10. CHANGE is inevitable.  I can resist it or I can look forward to the way it refreshes my life and the way I experience it.  One of these options is far more rewarding than the other.

For me it is easy to embrace and live 2, 4, and 6.  1, 9, and 10 come fairly naturally.  The beauty of 7 is that when I slip from it a bit, the others in those relationships pick me up.  That's how those relationships became amazing.  3, 5, and 8 require a little more practice, a few more reminders, but they too can be accomplished.  Overall, a very manageable and inspiring theme list.

Life is good.

Three Amigos Weekend

Animal/housesitting for my jetsetting parents this weekend.  The dog and cat would like to share with you how that is going so far.


The Dog's Day


8:00 AM:  Oh wow!  You're awake! Yay! My favorite thing!

8:30 AM: We're going outside! My favorite thing!

9:00 AM: Running around the yard! My favorite thing!

10:00 AM: Cuddling on the couch with my person! My favorite thing!

12:00 PM: Lunch! My favorite thing!

1:00 PM: A nap! My favorite thing!

2:00 PM: Playing ball! My favorite thing!

5:00 PM: Dinner! My favorite thing!

6:00 PM: A back rub! My favorite thing!

8:00 PM: Outside! My favorite thing!

11:00 PM: Treats and bedtime! My favorite thing!


The Cat's Day


It's Day 3 of my captivity since the people left and their Youngest Offspring has inhabited the home.  I make my displeasure in the changing of the guard clear at irregular but frequent intervals. I get the best reaction when I 'discuss' the matter with Offspring between 0200 hours and 0400 hours.  Especially if I enhance the conversation with my claws.

On Day 2, at 1400 hours I caught Offspring dining on fresh packed tuna while the other inmate and myself were left to attempt to stomach some sort of dry protein nuggets.  While I make my contempt for the inadequate rations perfectly clear, I reluctantly eat the offerings.  I must maintain strength.

I was almost successful in an assassination attempt this morning by weaving around Offspring's feet while she was walking on the slick kitchen floor.  Will try again tomorrow, earlier in the morning to capitalize on the pre-coffee fog the Offspring often seems to suffer.  And at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the Offspring has brainwashed the other inmate.  The dog is a totally flunkie.  He is occasionally released, but seems more than willing to return.  Obviously retarded.  But also seems to be entitled to special privileges, including periodic treats for completing idiotic tasks.  Perhaps I will 'consult' with him later on his strategy.

When I sleep on the Offspring's shoulder, she seems to find it endearing and talks to me in the most obnoxious voice and fails to use complete sentences.  I endure, and continue to keep my friends close and enemies closer...

Weekend.

New coffee mug.  Sleeping in.  Sunshine pouring in the windows.  Fresh almond rhubarb coffee cake.  Home brewed beer.  A long, healthy run. Completed painting.  Raucous one-woman dance party (or two or three dance parties!).  A Sunday afternoon football game.  Fantastic company.  Games of fetch.  Delivery pizza.  Good night phone call.

Happy is so easy to find some days.

Slumber Party

Host: Myself.

Guest: Willow.  A 50-something pound poop-eating, lefse-stealing, ball of anxiety shaped like a yellow dog.

10 pm: Dog so exhausted she cannot even stay on the couch with the rest of the family.  Must get on the floor and sigh heavily to ensure that all family members realize she is tired and would like to go to bed.

10:20 pm: Confusion of epic proportions when "Willow's people" go upstairs (where she would normally sleep) and dog is being herded into basement bedroom with perma-squatter (co-owner of dog and home's younger sister-- yours truly).

10:30 pm: Dog must pace like caged lion and blow air and dog snot onto every item at dog level in the room.

10:31 pm: Whines at door.

10:31 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:31 pm: Whines at door.  

10:32 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:32 pm: Whines at door.  

10:32 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:32 pm: Whines at door.  

10:33 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:33 pm: Whines at door.  

10:33 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:34 pm: Whines at door.  

10:34 pm: Jumps on and then immediately off bed.

10:35 pm:  Dog is told "That is quite enough of that!"

10:35 pm: Dog makes sad eyes, lays on the floor.

10:36 pm:  I foolishly apologize to dog for asking it to behave and getting results. 

10:45 pm:  I post photo of Neurot Dog to Facebook, wondering via the internet if this was really a good idea...

11:05 pm:  Dog gives in, decides it is tired, and hops into bed.  Curls up behind my legs and gives a "happy ending to a happy day" sigh.  

11:06 pm:  All is peaceful in the kingdom.  

Katie International Yellow

Dear Misters Picasso, Van Gogh, Warhol, Close, and Johns,

You know you guys are "my boys."   The ones I can always rely on to make me smile with whimsical subject matter, the perfect use of bold color, and a true talent for making everyday objects and occurrences feel more alive and more beautiful.  Nothing can take that away from you and nothing ever will.  However, after witnessing an incredible display of the works of Yves Klein at the Walker Art Center last night, I would like us all to consider him for membership in the exclusive Association of Katie's Favorite Creative Artists. 

I understand he is not as well known as most of you, but I think his application warrants examination given some very strong characteristics:

1.  His talented use of a blow torch.  And not to inflict pain upon himself, Mr. Cuts-Off-His-Ears Vincent.  Yves (yes, we're on a first name basis) torched some wood-backed cardboard and it turned in to fabulous and provocative pieces that I think highlight how elemental art and design are. 

2.  He wears a bowtie and at least two out of the three pieces of a three-piece suit while torching.  (See above photo for reference). 

3.  He invented his own color.  His own color!  And it is named after him: Klein International Blue.

 

4.  He's got a pretty good way with words. 

For me, each nuance of a color is in some way an individual, a being who is not only from the same race as the base color, but who definitely possesses a distinct character and personal soul. -- Yves Klein

Overall, gentlemen, I do not believe that Klein's inclusion into the Association will overshadow any of the contributions any of you have made to the art world, and specifically, to my art world. 

Please consider my request seriously and provide a response to my inquiry soon.  If I am difficult to reach in the next few days, it is simply because I am busy perfecting the formula for Katie International Yellow. 

With highest regards,

XOXO,

Katie



Reverb 10.27: Ordinary Joy.

December 27-- Ordinary Joy.  Our most profound joy is most often experienced during ordinary moments.  What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

The frenzied typing of a term paper would slow and eventually stop.  The last dishes from the dinner meal would be dried and put away.  The TV would fall silent after playing the preview for next week's episode of [fill in the guiltiest pleasure reality TV show].  And from all corners of a charming second floor Uptown apartment, my roommates and I (and often Roommate 2.0- one of the boyfriends) would gather around the most sacred space our combine student loans could afford: the kitchen counter.  Every night, between 8 and 10 pm (or whenever the last roommate navigated the tiny front stairwell after a long day of class), the three/four of us would sit on the $10 kitchen stools in the bluest of blue kitchens and have our "kitchen counter pow wow." 

At the time, they didn't seem anything special.  They weren't even really a scheduled event.  But somehow, a block of time-- at least 30 minutes-- found its way between class schedules, long nights at work, piles of homework, and social engagements.  And this time, sometimes stretching hours and going way past bedtime on a school night, is the time I got to know my roommates best.  Sometimes we just talked about our day: how great/awful our classes were, the weirdos on the bus, a planned 8 mile run that turned into 3 miles and a latte instead.  Sometimes we talked about more serious things: heartbreak, how we imagined our future lives, things that scared us, things we were excited about.  Sometimes we watched YouTube videos so many times we could quote them for months following.  One time we broke into "MmBop" by Hanson.  Always we appreciated knowing that someone was checking in to make sure we were each okay, all separated from our families by the drive to earn post-grad degrees.  Always we appreciated the different views each of us brought to the kitchen counter. 

Each night I understood these women better than the night before, each night our friendship became stronger, each night we laughed, and each night we made an unspoken commitment that no matter how crazy our lives got, there was always time to say "Hey, I am thinking about you and I hope you had a good day."

Reverb 10.15: 5 Minutes.

December 15-- 5 Minutes.  Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes.  Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010. 

This list is not entirely comprehensive, as I only had 5 minutes for a heck of a year.  The last item is sort of a catch-all.

Best New Year's kick off ever (subsequent 4 day hangover/moviefest less fabulous, but still great story).  Graduation.  Tubing down the Apple River-- getting ridiculously sunburnt the first time and battling a thunderstorm and ultra-slow river the second.  Golden birthday celebration.  Roomies' birthday celebrations.  Break up celebrations.  Celebrations.  The rush of relief upon hearing "You have finished your Masters of Public Health with no revisions to your final paper."  Selling my artwork.  Beautiful weddings.  Excited phone calls from some of my most favorite people announcing their engagements.  Recently, a Snowmaggedon/Tsnownami/Snowpacolypse. A big kid job and then a bigger kid promotion.  Excelling at that job and starting to make a teeny tiny name for myself.  Happy. 

Reverb 10.14: Appreciate.

December 14-- Appreciate.  What's the one thing you have come to appreciate the most in the past year?  How do you express gratitude for it?

This one's easy: Coffee maker. Next question.


Just kidding (sort of).

I actually was thinking about this prompt yesterday while I was at work.* I was in a meeting with most of the people in branch (one level up from my team/division) and not surprisingly, it was all women. There are approximately 65 people in our department and about 6 men. Such is the typical make up of public health.

What I noticed in this group, moreso than I had noticed in my co-workers before, was that this was a group of very smart, dedicated women. Every one of us at the table had worked hard to get where she is, has immense passion for what she does, and contributes in a meaningful way to the health of her community and the overall wellness of the people around her. We were also discussing the budget issues crisis absolute disaster sinkhole Minnesota will be facing this session and how, right now, our departmnet budget is intact and semi-stable but how cuts in other areas (education, transportation, housing) will likely impact the work we do. I loved being a part of this roundtable of bright women who are politically active, engaged in their community and engaging in conversation, and that's is when it hit me what I have remembered to appreciate most this year: strong women.

Given the personalities of the women in my family, I think "strong woman" was a behavior and personality type modeled before me from a very early age. But it can be easy to lose sight of that as we travel through life, particularly the young adult years, where feminine behavior seems be regarded as more important and 'becoming' on a lady.

Luckily, my year has been absolutely filled to the brim of strong women. There's the other fabulous ladies in my masters program who were instrumental fibers in the safety net of support I built for myself while also busting their butts to complete their own studies. My project advisory committee included two women who I respect like mad for the things they had accomplished, the way they faced their own lives with incredible balance, and reminded me that no project and no degree is worth losing sight of who I am and not worth (too many) sleepless nights and temper tantrums. And I already gushed about my workplace, but I honestly can't turn a corner in the office without running in to a woman I admire greatly. And of course, the women in my family continue to remind me that I am just one in a long legacy of independent, strong-willed, and frankly, brilliant, women. My mom-- she's beautifully human and not at all ashamed about it; she's everyone's rock.**

The best way to show gratitude for these women/role models/superheroes of my world is to continue the tradition. To show through my actions and accomplishments that their influence on me has been great and I plan to do remarkable things with what I have learned from their example. Watch out, world.



* I was multitasking, not daydreaming.
** One sentence, and then tears. See? Overly emotional. All the time.

Reverb 10.9: Party.

December 9-- Party.  What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010?  Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

Oooh! I do so love a good party!

2010 has been kind of a fete-filled year and with so much cause for celebration. It's certainly hard to pick a favorite: I loved celebrating a close friend's wedding to a man who adores her in one of the most beautiful and elaborate weddings I have ever seen. I loved eating dinner with my family at my favorite Dinkytown haunt, the Loring Pasta Bar, after graduation. I loved the intimacy of sharing a glass of wine with my high school best friend after I defended my Masters in October. She has now been through 4 of my graduations (if you count Masters defense as it's own-- which I think it deserves). I loved being able to wish someone well as they took a great step forward on their journey, even if I hated the goodbye. I loved the raucousness and craziness of New Years, bachelorette parties, and birthdays. I loved the hangovers less.

I love the clinking glass of a good "Cheers!", whether it is between myself and one other person or a roomful of friends and strangers alike. There is simply so much worth celebrating.

In 2010 I celebrated my Golden Birthday and that, for me, was the best fete of the year. I bought myself a new black dress with gold detailing around the neckline and down the front of dress. I bedazzled my fingers and toes with a nail polish aptly named "Gilty Pleasure." I made reservations for dinner for 20 at my favorite Uptown haunt, Stella's Fish Cafe and we had a delicious dinner appetizers, seafoods, and soups. I blew out the candles on a Transformers-themed DQ ice cream cake and carried the figurines in my faux-snake skin purse for the rest of the evening. The night was not terribly wild and crazy; it was just some of my closest friends visiting my favorite bars in the neighborhood I had grown to love in the previous 14 months and would be leaving (heavy-hearted) the following afternoon. I had my first booze-infused milkshake and sipped on a Minnesota Nice. I inhaled a beautiful summer view of Minneapolis from the buzzing rooftop bars. It was entirely blissful.

I had a lot going on at that time. I was still working feverishly to finish my Masters project while trying to be a model employee in my internship and look for full time, permanent work. I was moving away from the women and the neighborhood I adored because it was the right and responsible financial decision. But for that night, all I had to worry about was relishing that I had survived another year, I had good friends that loved me, and whether or not my glass was full.

It was so fun, in fact, I am thinking about having a birthday again next year.

Reverb 10.8: Beautifully Different.

December 8-- Beautifully Different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different and you'll find they're what make you beautiful.

As a young(er) woman, I think I got a little caught up in the common mindset that beauty equals perfection. When you had achieved physical perfection (as defined by a very unclear, semi-unrealistic set of standards) and could do everything and be everything to everyone, then you were beautiful. And it turns out, attempting that and inevitably failing, is exhausting. Sorry Chaka Khan/Whitney Houston, I'm not every woman.

Happily, I can report that at the infinitely wise age of 24, there are a million things I haven't learned and that I don't do well (yet), but I have learned to recognize that I am beautiful. And further, I have recognized that it's not immodest to know that I am beautiful and to act with the confidence and poise of a beautiful woman.

Let's pretend that junior high never happened, am I right, ladies and gentlemen? There was very little about my awkwardly morphing (and yet still chubby) body, my good (but occasional backstabbing) group of friends, or the fact that I was smart and did well in school that screamed 'beauty' to my junior high self.

The earnest journey towards discovering my beauty really started when I arrived in Fargo, North Dakota as a wide-eyed and semi-panicked freshman at North Dakota State University. As the mature 'adult' I thought I was at hardly 18 years old, I was determined to take all the best parts of me and fashion them into the young woman I really wanted to be. She looked sort of like a mix of Oprah Winfrey, Katie Couric, and Mother Theresa, except probably a little sassier and less organized.

And then I fell for this boy. And the independent, strong woman in me cringes at the idea of giving any mere man credit for anything I have done, particularly a journey so focused on self-discovery. But the honest, realistic woman in me knows that our relationships give dividends far greater than our investment, including the opportunity to look at ourselves the way someone else sees us. And for the first time, I really looked at myself through the perspective of someone who thought smart was sexy, saw my creativity as true talent, and understood that my rare occasional somewhat frequent emotional outbursts (whether it was manic joy, crushing devastation, or red-hot anger) were simply part of being human and he tolerated me with patience and grace, the two qualities I most severely lack and most desperately need a partner. Above all, that relationship taught me that I deserve to be treated well, especially by the men who are lucky enough to capture my attention. It also taught me that those things that I was most self-conscious about were the best parts about me because they weren't perfect (yet) and my flaws were the most human part of me.

The journey towards discovering beauty within myself didn't end on the same crisp, fall day that that relationship 'ended'.* It actually intensified, as I was left (and now feeling a bit alone) to redefine my adult self without that other person reminding me of all that I had accomplished, all I was capable of, and how fantastic I looked in a black dress with heels. I was going to be responsible for my own self-assurance and for maintaining my own confidence.

And it turns out that wasn't so hard (although, I will give College Boyfriend some serious credit for helping to lay the foundation). And I could probably list for you several things I think are beautiful about myself: the ability to feel emotion super intensely, to talk to anyone about anything, to recognize that, sometimes, the one thing I need is my famous one woman dance party, an undying desire to give more, and some wicked blue eyes and out of control curly hair. But, like most things, the journey to beautiful has been much more meaningful.

Occasionally I pick up on hints that some of my friends might be in the throes of their very own journey to beautiful, and I hope that my openness and honesty about truly feeling beautiful and love love loving my flaws is shedding some light on their journey as well. And this is not to suggest that my journey is over, by any means. It is a constantly evolving process of learning to first accept and then appreciate the things and situations and people that were not as you expected or wanted them to be. When I let go of my expectations of things, they often turn out better than I could have imagined. And when I let go of the expectations of myself, I am turning out better than I imagined!


*It didn't really end, but simply officially became what it was turning into for some time, which was a ridiculously supportive and fabulous friendship.

Reverb 10.3: Moment.

December 3-- Moment.  Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year.  Describe it in vivid detail (textures, smells, voices, noises, colors). 

My 'moment' this year came a mere 1 hour, 36 minutes after I was quite convinced I was closest to death.  And perhaps I was, at the time, blowing things a bit out of proportion.  However, finding oneself in the middle of a cold lake, not terribly confident in one's own ability to actually swim long-ish distances, plus the added challenge of attempting to avoid many heel-to-face contacts between oneself and the 50 or so other swimmers, all eyes trained on a piece of the beach that looks like a postage stamp in the distance.  Despite feeling that my sinking to the bottom of Pike Lake near Duluth, MN was not a statistical probability but a infallible certainty, my feet finally grazed and took a firm step on the sandy lake bed which turned out to be the first step towards a moment of almost shocking mental clarity. 

That clarity came as I crossed the finish line of the 2010 Brewhouse Triathlon, after completing a near death swim, a flat and uneventful bike, and a run that started with a 1 mile uphill slope.  But the moment was really about 25 minutes in the making, starting when I hung my bright red Bianchi bicycle back on the chaotic rack in the athlete transition zone and let my feet groove to the pavement, proudly donning the neon blue Nike Pegasus running shoe I had personally designed just for events like this. 

I started triathlons in 2009 and I would only describe myself as a triathlete in the very loosest of the terms: one who has completed at least one triathlon of any distance.  I have completed three, so I think I can at least entertain the idea of wearing the title on occasion.   It's sort of amazing that I continue to do these events, considering that my interest was borne out of a young passion and commitment to running, and I harbor a general fear/disdain of swimming and overall apathetic view of athletic bicycling.  So by the time I finish the swim and bike portions (always the first two events), I am relieved to finally be back on terra firma.  It's a little like that warm feeling you get when you return home after a vacation and say to yourself, "That was fun, but this is where I belong best." 

Running, for me, is the great stress reliever.  There have been days in the last year where I have been sitting in a class or in a meeting or stuck at a computer and thought, "I cannot wait to hit the lake trails or hop on the treadmill."  Really.  I think best in motion; it forces me to say things to myself I cannot say when I am busy transitioning between obligations, and it allows me to think all the way through the depths of a situation.  It is peaceful.  Running also allows me to feel life physically.  I run fast and hard when I am angry, I flit and bounce along the trail when I am overjoyed, sometimes I run up a large hill triumphantly and other days I say "Oh hell no" and turn around.  There are many everyday experiences that are much akin to a runner's burning lungs or throbbing legs and of course those moments that you have simply gone too far and are receiving a sharp, stabbing reminder of your own limitations in you side.

On the day of the Brewhouse Triathlon, I turned out of the transition zone to face a mild upward slope and those long but gentle hills are deceiving.  They tell your brain "Look how small I am.  I will simply lead you to a higher elevation."  But they tell your thighs (after swimming and biking and overall constant motion and abuse for an hour already) "This shit isn't easy, and frankly I don't think you have the muscle fibers necessary to climb this goddamn hill."  In turn, your brain is saying to you "Look, isn't this nice and pleasant?  The scenery is fabulous" while your legs say "Turn around! Turn around!  Stop this! This is madness!!"  I may or may not be a triathlete, but I am not a quitter.  Sorry, thighs.  And that thought kept replaying through my head-- after a school year in which I cried myself through more than one term paper, had a complete breakdown in my car after a Saturday morning final exam, had my academic integrity challenged, fought battle after battle towards the completion of my Masters project, and was finding it difficult to secure full-time, permanent employment-- I still had not quit.  And 2.6 goddamn miles (half of which had now become an excrutiating uphill) were not going to have the satisfaction of breaking my resolve. 

And shortly after crossing that finish line, I stuffed approximately 5 doughnut holes covered in the most satisfying powdered sugar I have ever tasted into my mouth at once and swished it around with a big swig of orange juice (because to the victor goes the gastrointestinal spoils!).

And nothing makes me feel alive like a mouthful of doughnut holes.

It's Caturday!

One of my guilty pleasures is perusing I Can Has Cheezburger to enjoy the week's "lolcats."  I have sort of a schedule of online perusing and I kind of try to keep my Google reader fairly clean with personal blogs, news blogs, etc.  Very little goofy stuff, with the exception of a grad-school specific comic strip.  Well, Saturday is known as Caturday on Cheezburger, and so it seemed like the perfect morning to share some of the lolcat pics that got me laughing this morning.  One warning:  these will be funnier if you have owned cats and really understand their personalities.  Our family has had many cats and they have all been so wonderful and different that going through these photos, I can almost always think of one of our cats that would find themselves in the same situation and "say" the same thing.


I just really love the Beatles, and Imagine.  This is perfect.  



This reminds me of Cricket (the cat) and Sonny (the dog).  Cricket and Sonny are working at peacefully cohabitating at my parents' place, and Sonny tries very hard to be a good dog.  But Cricket absolutely relishes in the times he gets in trouble.  She is a terrible tease.



I know that feeling...



Lots of puns and plays on words at Cheezburger.  This is a good one. 



These are representatives from [fill in your favorite government office/bureau here].


All right.  Back to work.  Have a good weekend!  Hope you are all doing something OTHER than writing your thesis! :)

Please Swerve for Pigeons if You Drive Through Uptown

Remember these guys?  These are the pigeons that sit on my neighbors gutter every sunrise and sunset and who we can see from our kitchen window.  An adorable pair, the animal example of what we all hope to have one day in our own old age.

Tonight, there's just one.  Looking less cuddly, and awfully solo.  I hope nothing has happened to the other.  There's still maybe 10 minutes before true sunset... maybe he/she will come around.  Fingers crossed.

Love Doves

It's sunset on the 2700 block of Fremont Avenue in Minneapolis.  After a long day of doing whatever birds do in the dead of winter, these two love doves (well, love pigeons) come back to our neighbor's gutter every night.  They sit wing to wing in this little alcove, protected from the wind, and gaze southwest at the setting sun.  We see them there nearly every night, and occasionally I am even up early enough to brew coffee in their loving presence.  

I adore them.  I really do.

100. One Hundred. Hundo.

To celebrate my hundredth post I thought I would make a list for ya. I love lists and I love this website on the power of the "List of 100." Listing 100 things on any topic definitely makes you think really hard, dig deep, and get a little creative.

Since it's the holiday season, and I am getting over my Grad School Blues a bit, I think I will grace you with:

100 Things That Make Me Happy

It may seem a little lame, cliche', or tamer than the things I have been sharing lately, but I think it is such a good evaluation of life sometimes, to remind us that there are at least 100 things to be happy about. Enjoy!

1. Woolen socks on winter days.
2. Philosophical conversations over hot coffee.
3. Working for an organization that I truly believe in, and support their mission not only through my work but through my personal actions.
4. 4-legged friends.
5. My roommates. They are some of the most vibrant, dynamic young women I have ever had the pleasure to know.
6. Fast-forwarding though commercials.
7. A big beautiful, blank canvas and an afternoon.
8. Midday naps.
9. Christmas movies (especially when enjoyed in summer).
10. Picking apples off the tree and eating them in the orchard.
11. Doing the crossword in bed on a weekend morning.
12. Singing in the car.
13. Summer evening rainbows.
14. Purring cats.
15. Wearing summer dresses to local art fairs.
16. Talking to strangers in airports/on airplanes.
17. Black and white photos.
18. Being in triathlon shape.
19. Shivan's "Hangover French Toast."
20. Freshly washed, still warm from the dryer bed sheets.
21. 2 f0r 1's @ Stella's on a Saturday night in "the" upstairs corner booth.
22. Weddings. Wedding dances. Getting dressed up for weddings. Being so honored to be asked to be in a wedding. Celebrating love. Weddings are the best!
23. Tacos.
24. Free stuff.
25. When strangers buy coffee for each other.
26. Sun porches.
27. Early morning breakfasts.
28. Wii Tennis championships in the living room.
29. Surprises.
30. Emergency preparedness/planning.
31. Nightly roommate pow-wow in which the following topics nearly always come up: school (we hate it but we love it), funny things we did as undergrads, men (the good, the bad, and the ugly), and food.
32. Fresh snow on all environmental surfaces EXCEPT the roads.
33. Getting to the on ramp right as the idiot light turns green. Wahooo!
34. Getting lost and then found again.
35. Mittens.
36. Going barefoot anywhere it is acceptable.
37. Skipping.
38. Telling "college" stories. What a unique experience to have such a padded place to test your wings.
39. Birthday Week (one day does not have the capacity to contain all the fun I prefer to have for birthdays).
40. Yellow shoe laces.
41. Making Christmas cookies with the "Muehe" ladies. I do not remember a Christmas that we have not had an afternoon of rolling, cutting, baking, frosting, sprinkling, goofing up, "breaking" the cookie to eat it, and some hysterical laughter.
42. One woman dance parties. It is absolutely imperative to one's mental health to celebrate their own accomplishments.
43. The ocean.
44. Being able to consider my immediate family my best friends. It has been wonderful to have a collective 126 years of life experience to draw from!
45. The Spoonbridge and Cherry. Easily my favorite place on the planet. This makes me think that it is funny that no matter how well traveled I am (and I would consider myself moderately to fairly well-traveled for someone my age), it's still things close to home that make me happiest. This is a true testament to the fact that amongst all the other "rights" in my life, I am in the right geographical place too. What a lovely feeling.
46. Car rides. If the walls of cars could talk, they would tell the most intimate of secrets.
47. Driving a manual transmission car. Vrrooom Vrroooom!
48. House plants.
49. Custom Nikes. Love love love love love.
50. Being able to say I am halfway done with large tasks.
51. Realizing I have less to do on a large task than I have already accomplished.
52. Flirting.
53. Giving presentations. If you can't dazzle them with science, baffle them with bullshit.
54. Being respected for being intelligent and praised for being a hard worker. These are some of my favorite qualities of myself.
55. Getting my haircut.
56. Easy to open pistachios.
57. Getting mail.
58. Making faces.
59. Being able to tell your dreams and aspirations to someone and have them love and respect you for it rather than think you are crazy.
60. Sledding.
61. Sailboats.
62. Giving to charity; whether it is time, money, donated goods, or simple well wishes and a thank you.
63. Hot tea before bed.
64. People with an inherent calmness to them. This may be jealousy, as I am not inherently calm but rather a bit of a firecracker. Nonetheless, I enjoy being in the presence of calm.
65. Watching TV shows from my childhood: Captain Planet, Saved by the Bell, Full House.
66. Grammar and spelling. Not that mine are always perfect.
67. A solid "I am here for you" hug.
68. Surprising people.
69. Installing something--anything-- by myself. Like: internet service, shelving units, etc. It reasserts my power over complicated material things.
70. Buying select groceries from the local co-op. While it makes me feel a little poor, it simultaneously makes me feel hip and good for the planet. Plus, organic cheese is the cat's meow.
71. First dates. Even when they rarely become second dates, and almost never become a third, first dates are typically so fun.
72. Butterfly gardens.
73. The sound of running water.
74. People who acknowledge the need to extend human rights even when their own cultural or religious experiences has not.
75. Traveling.
76. Listening to people speak in languages other than English.
77. People watching.
78. Catching someone "people watching" me!
79. Wonderful and supportive classmates @ The School of Public Health. There will always be a unique bond with the people I have shared this crazy experience with.
80. Finishing things significantly before the deadline.
81. Finishing things right before the deadline and having that magical "Phew!" feeling.
82. Bubble baths and a bottle of wine.
83. IKEA furniture that lasts more than 6 months.
84. Completing things you never thought possible.
85. Making a mistake and discovering it was better than what you had intended in the first place.
86. The smell of freshly cut grass in the summer.
87. Balloon hats. And newspaper hats for that matter.
88. Driving with the windows down in the summer.
89. Happy dogs.
90. The absolutely massive variety of hamburgers at King's Cafe in Miesville. I would recommend The Slider.
91. LEGOs.
92. Picking up where I left off.
93. Starting over.
94. A little lesson I learned from my childhood dog: sometimes the only movement you really need to do throughout a lazy, relaxing day is to relocate yourself to the "sunny spots" throughout the house as the sun bounces from one horizon to the other.
95. Crunchy peanut butter (now in organic! My heart be still. . . )
96. People who are thoughtful. I am trying to take notes.
97. Ladybugs on windowsills.
98. Reading the newspaper in print form, rather than online at least once every two weeks.
99. Understanding that someday big milestones will feel little, maybe even become part of the background noise and that the little things may be what ends up defining part of my character. And being okay with whichever way things go.
100. Crossing the finish line.