tis the season

I realized just now that it's possible to drive a car where I feel, simultaneously, like I have the longest legs and the tiniest t-rex arms. I navigated this tin-can Toyota-something to a familiar suburban Hampton Inn in Kansas City, where the manager graciously allowed me to check in at 10:30 a.m. And here I sit, monitoring my student worker's coordinating endeavors, requests from bosses, and searching for creative Facebook content for our admissions page. It has to be close to 90 degrees outside, yet my room's air conditioning blasts and I'm freezing. I've found an afternoon mini-marathon of a show I've never seen, Rizzoli & Isles, but for background noise it'll work. Plus, Matt and I toured the Paramount lot this summer during our honeymoon where the drama is filmed. This is where I learned of Matt's long-standing crush on Angie Harmon and her soothing husky vocal tones. Today is a much slower than normal schedule, because the cheapest flight landed me in KC at 9:15 a.m. for a 6:30 p.m. fair. So I'm trying to keep up, plan ahead, and will get lunch soon with a friend in the city who is always great to see. Travel season has started, and as such, I'm going to try my darndest to update this here blog for my #1 guy. Our summer was a full one: our wedding, honeymoon, friends' weddings, moving into a new house and trying to unpack amid it all. And now I embark upon my annual fall travel season, which will be highlighted this year by voyages to both sides of the country, and not just in the middle. And, gone are the road trips to the Dakotas and Northern Minnesota. I'll miss the bright trees. I have chosen to continue writing here because as it turns out, I have 3240 other blogs I've half started that are bouncing around the internet somewhere. I'll try to include photos as much as possible, though, because we all enjoy visual aids to stories.

I finished up a day of application reading, which is great when I'm on a roll but mind-numbing when I realize I haven't stood up in 3 hours. As my mind wanders, I find myself looking through random photos I've saved to my desktop. The majority are work-related, but there are a few of ML and of my Ole family here and there. Then... I saw...

This glamour shot of the most magnificent baked item I've discovered over the last almost-decade - one look, my mouth waters. One bite of this "Ole cookie," a treat originating from my alma mater's food service, and I'm brought back to late night study sessions with soggy coffee cup in hand. I used to alternate coffee sip to cookie bite, which created this incredible caramel-chocolate-nutty flavor. The coffee's dirt-poop taste was also masked by the cookie, turning it into a snack accomplice, and not just sludge I drank to get me through the day. Those were great times. These days, the Ole cookie is a treat I gravitate towards when work days reach the afternoon drag. It is an offer of friendship and gratitude. I reward student workers with Ole cookies when they've blown my socks off with their incredible work ethic; I accept them from friends who offer to treat. They're to be enjoyed and savored, not inhaled. I don't have much else to say beyond the superficial nature of this post, but it's meant to act like the cookie itself in a way -- a break from it all for a second. Also, sometimes I'm just at a lack for anything that doesn't apply to reading applications, talking wedding plans, and seeing how many days I can go without a shower as I work from home.

I can't quit you, blog

Admittedly, I have become very rusty at blogging in this style. Usually, all my blogging efforts are work-related; I get used to using similar adjectives, quips, one-liners, word-plays, etc., which is fine - it just doesn't add a lot to creativity. And, you know, life gets in the way sometimes: I've given up creativity in the flurry of moving to Minneapolis, settling into a new home, commuting to work 45 minutes each way, balancing friends with boyfriend (er, fiance!) and trying to feed myself on a regular basis. My early 20s have given way to my late-20s, and I now find myself with a slower metabolism, desire for earlier bedtimes, and even on weekend nights out, a bedtime of 1 a.m. at the latest. It has been about two years since I updated this blog, and so much has changed since then. But, it was fun to read back on the NYE 2010 blog post and remember the time when I was snowed in at home in Casper. I had to miss "getting to know a new group of people" which consisted of my then-recently-determined boyfriend (a term I'm still awkward saying... doesn't that seem so high school?) Though we missed our 2011 NYE, after he proposed in late October 2012, it was decided that we would have decades of them left. Shucks. So, now we're onto the arduous task of balancing wedding planning with work obligations (hola, 13-hour reading days) and the task of staying calm and giving love and attention to friends and roommates. That, and life in the city, makes the days of my 5 minute commute and second family at the coffee shop seem like another life. This is all just to say that I want to start writing here again - even if no one reads it - because it's good to flex that part of my brain muscle.

best of New York City (Jan 2010)

Almost immediately after watching the ball drop in Times Square, I took a long weekend with a chunk of friends and headed over to New York City. We stared up at the mile-high buildings; wove through crowds of sightseers at tourist spots; found a hidden bar at the top of a hotel next to the Empire State Building; and re-connected with a group so lively it made me miss college all over again ... (though not "college things" like the after-effects of a particularly effective "all-you-can-eat/drink" deal from our friend Brendan...)



Roommates at the Ameritania Hotel, Molly, Ellen, Amy and I walked through Central Park on a particularly freezing morning. We found a little hill of stone above Wollman Skating Rink with an amazing view of the lower East side. Even though traveling through NYC in January isn't ideal if you don't like a face frozen beyond expression, it's awesome for avoiding giant groups of tourists and smells that bubble up from the underground sewer system.





A favorite day: Grimaldi's for pizza; Jacques Torres for wicked hot cocoa; and a walk back to Manhattan across the Brooklyn Bridge. Molly and Ellen hadn't been here before, and I think I noticed them click with the city during this walk.



Walking back to our hotel from the Columbus Circle area, the Christmas lights in the trees offset the light snow. Eric and Margit looked especially lovely that night.



I finally got to see the Bethesda Fountain - this is a detail of the sculpture at the top, and one of my favorite photos from the trip.



Here's my favorite little sister in front of my favorite cupcakes (Buttercup Bakery). It was an added bonus to spend some time with Anna and her professor parents, leading the St. Olaf art trip to Manhattan. Ellen and I took Anna on a particularly exhausting trek to the library to see the original Winnie the Pooh... totally worth it.



Molly and I spent some time on the Met steps with a pretzel from a cart; these little birdies scattered near us to grab crumbs and extra sun rays.





My love, my light, Ellen Roth indulged my childhood love for Matt Lauer and the Today Show by waking up at 6:30, walking a few blocks, and standing in sleet to catch a few glimpses of the crew. We were even on TV for a few milliseconds!





The friend celebration to end all celebrations (by 10PM... I think?)





The last few hours in NYC were spent at the Top of the Rock and in the surrounding area. A tiny little New Years ball... and a spectacular view of a cold, sunny city and one of its landmark structures.

Even almost a year later, I still crave more of the city. In two trips, I know I've barely found everything.

best of 2010 (to come...)

This is how I rung in 2010: blowing the rhythm of "Party in the USA" as the clock switched over.



My friend Rachel took this photo, along with QUITE a few others, during our friends' masquerade-mask-themed party. There's nothing we love more than whipping out some nice duds, creating a theme, and carrying it out full-force (especially with champagne/wine/PBR in hand).

This is how I will ring in 2011:



Not scaling the oil derrick, but in a snowy Casper, without the usual cohorts. I used to soak up New Years in my hometown as a time to connect with a few high school friends - but they have since (mostly) scattered, married, moved to Scotland, moved to Missouri. Weather in Wyoming is as temperamental and insane as Minnesota; this morning I woke to a phone call from United Airlines, notifying me of my canceled flight. It bummed me out, sure. I had plans at a few houses, and was especially looking forward to getting to know a new group of folks as the ball dropped. As it was, I enjoyed today (mostly snowbound inside), but I know I will need to get out and hopefully ski tomorrow (even in below-zero temps).

So, in lieu of a huge celebration tomorrow and tomorrow night, I think I'll chip away at some photos (/memories) collected during 2010 here at home, between shoveling and shoving leftover Christmas cookies in my mouth. Starting with last year's celebration, at a warm house of lovely friends, the year was actually pretty fantastic.



(thanks to Rachel Carlin for the first photo; Amy Sonnichsen for the third)

first-timer (January 2007)

It has been almost four years since my first night in New York City. I remember hustling into a cramped taxi cab and hurdling half an hour to our apartments. As I wrestled my suitcase across the curb and looked up, I remember never feeling more overwhelmed. Since I had just flown from Wyoming through Minneapolis to NYC, I went from one drastic landscape to the complete opposite. Everywhere I looked, buildings and sidewalks. Our apartment, on 54th Street between 1st and 2nd Avenue, was situated in a pretty active area of midtown.

That first night, our walk included "getting to know the neighborhood." A quick glance at our maps and some words of guidance from our professors helped us discover we were merely blocks from Rockefeller Center, Times Square, and 5th Avenue. In hindsight, we covered the territory that night -- but I think in our excitement, we didn't realize it. When we came upon 5th Avenue, the clouds were low and off-set the lights so incredibly, it was as if we fell into a Manhattan film scene. I remember seeing some leftover store fronts from the holidays, and Christmas lights in windows, and not quite believing I was finally in this city.

Over the month, we discovered more and less beauty in and around the city, but even so, New York was then solidified as a place I would have to re-visit over and over again. So far, I've made it back once, though I've barely scratched the surface.

vintage snow (ca. 1990?)

I am younger each year at the first snow.
When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then I am
in love again and very young and I believe everything. - Anne Sexton, 1958

This photo, via my best friend from home Erin (the one in the middle, with her hat tied around her face), instantly evokes the simple joys of winter as a kid. Icicle as snack, hanging out in warm clothes (and not caring if they matched), and prepping for some yard-skiing: nothing says "winter in 1990" more-so. My brother, the little pumpkin-faced kid on the far right, has since quadrupled in size. Erin is on the west coast, and while we don't talk regularly, when we do it's as if we haven't missed a day. My childhood partner in crime, Erin and I roamed our neighborhood creeks and streets, pranked our siblings, and shared so many meals at our respective families' houses it seemed natural to set another place at the table. In high school, Erin was my carpool buddy and ski season teammate - we shared after-school snacks of pickles and pudding before practice, marathons of trashy movies and junk food, and teen magazine-fests. I think about those days often - even just yesterday, after hearing of Leslie Nielsen's death. "Airplane" was our consistent pick for movie night at her aunt and uncle's house in Saratoga.

Going home always provokes the past. My bedroom is still intact, almost like a time-capsule of my adolescent/teenage years. I love sifting through piles of old pictures and remembering smells, the light, other people present, what I was wearing. I'm thankful for developed camera film. There is nothing like sitting down with a closetful of photos from the 1990s.