here comes the all good things

All Good Things started as a one-hour Sunday night radio show on KSTO St. Olaf radio, featuring feel-good music and 10 highlights from the past week. The show, and its current written form, is brought to you by Clara, Second Set of Baby Steps creator, and my radio co-host Cassie. We both contribute things to the list, so I'll tell you who said what to avoid confusion.

So get cozy and get ready for this week's batch of good things!

1. Song of the week: Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles. This is a plea for spring to come, and it just always makes me happy.

Also, one of my Facebook friends posted a throwback website she made in middle school this week, which featured a polytone .midi version of this song as the background music. So great.

2. Overcoming obstacles. Last time I drove on I-95 from Baltimore I had a panic attack and had to take the smaller U.S. Highway 40 the rest of the way, which is how I've gone since then. But it takes a little longer, so this time I gave 95 a try, deciding that if I started to feel really anxious I'd switch... But I made it the whole way on the interstate, in good time! - Clara

3. Reunions. This one makes the list a lot, but I saw my girls Mary and Lisa this weekend and it was awesome. We talked about lots of important things, cooked and ate good food, and cuddled. Talk about soul food! - Clara

4. Making a new recipe. I made a delightful quinoa Greek salad this week that had tomatoes, spinach, cucumbers, onions, and an awesome dressing. I find that during a long week I can easily forget to eat healthy foods, so it's a wonderful feeling when I make the effort and things turn out well. It was doubly good because it's vegetarian so Luke and I could eat the same meal that night (which doesn't always happen!) - Cassie

5. A new honey store opened up in my neighborhood! I visited this week and ended up with so much honey in my house. Raw honey, vanilla bean honey, and honey candy fill my cupboards right now, and I'm feeling good about it! - Cassie

6. Spring is coming! This is a bit premature, but it's in the high 30s here today which is an incredible feeling after having 50 days this winter where temps dipped into the negatives. I'm going to be one of those crazy Minnesotans who wears shorts outside today! - Cassie

7. Discernment. Today I actually went to church because we had some mission specialists coming from the synod. Despite my complicated relationship with The Church, I do have great interest in the efforts It makes to come up to speed with the world, so I went. I don't know how much progress we made, exactly, but it was definitely a step in the right direction, and I know I for one left feeling inspired and hopeful. - Clara

8. Bourbon in mimosas?! We had brunch at a place called Golden West Cafe in Baltimore's Hampden neighborhood on Saturday, and they sell carafes of mimosas made with bourbon as well as champagne! Yummm. - Clara

9. Mardi Gras. I had made plans to go out for dinner with some girlfriends on Tuesday night, not realizing it was Mardi Gras... But we found 3 seats at the bar and had some drinks and half-price burgers and great conversations. Love my girls. - Clara

10. Unexpected smiles. I desperately needed some motor oil tonight, so we swung by Walmart. Our checkout clerk in the Express Lane seemed a little cranky, but when we left I said, "Have a good night," and looked over my shoulder to see her absolutely beaming like no one had ever said that to her before. It definitely made my night, if not hers! - Clara



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Thank you, readers, for being with us tonight, and for giving me reasons to write, and things to write about.

And thanks for joining us every Sunday night! Join the Baby Steps on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/TheBabyStepsSaga for good things every day, and updates on new posts. Come back next week for another reminder of 10 more things to be thankful for!

Until then, be kind to each other, and find a reason to smile!

posted from Bloggeroid

all good things: keeping cool

All Good Things started as a one-hour Sunday night radio show on KSTO St. Olaf radio, featuring feel-good music and 10 highlights from the past week. The show, and its current written form, is brought to you by Clara, Second Set of Baby Steps creator, and my radio co-host Cassie. We both contribute things to the list, so I'll tell you who said what to avoid confusion.

So get cozy and get ready for this week's batch of good things!

1. Song of the week: Rocky Raccoon by the Beatles. This song came up a bunch of times this week, under totally different circumstances. The most important of them is in tribute to the raccoon stuffed animal that greeted us as we entered our vacation rental for the first time. We named him Rocky, of course, and he danced to his theme song at least once this weekend... (Video can be found here.) Miss you already, li'l Rocky!

2. Skipping town. Both Cassie and I have a serious case of cabin fever, and both of us got to skip town this weekend. We both just went over state lines, but even making a point to go to the next town over can make a huge difference!

Cassie was still on the road when this post was being written, so for the rest of the post, if it says "I" or "me" it means Clara!

3. America's Coolest Small Town. Also known as Lititz, Pennsylvania. Seems to fit the bill, even after just 3 days, and even in the cold when there's not much going on. Made me realize how much I miss small towns...

4. Good music. Do you ever have a week where there is good music playing everywhere you go? That was this week.

5. Trains. I went on a work trip this week and got to ride the train back from D.C. to Wilmington. It shaves at least an hour off the trip, and there's some good scenery along the train tracks. Plus, I can usually read on the train without getting motion sick.

6. Good tea! When I was in high school my mom and I used to go to this tea shop in a town twenty minutes away. The kind of place that has loose tea in jars or boxes for sniffing out your chosen brew. Since we left Amsterdam (New York), though, I haven't really found a good tea shop... And the first thing we did in Lititz on Friday was have two pots of tea in a place called Cafe Chocolate. Satisfied.

7. Speedwell Wolf Sanctuary. Wolves are incredible, majestic animals. Yesterday J and I got to see them up close when we took a tour of Pennsylvania's wolf sanctuary. This place rescues wolves that are sick or have been mistreated or confiscated, and keeps them safe in large enclosures. We learned a lot and got to meet a few inspirational wolf packs.

8. Local beer culture. When we leave DE, J and I tend to gravitate toward the food-and-beer type of attractions around our destination. We got lucky with Lititz, and enjoyed two separate brewpubs within blocks of each other and our vacation rental: Sturgis Haus and Appalachian Brewing Company.

9. Google Hangouts. You can do more with Skype, but Google Hangouts is becoming one of my favorite ways to easily chat with friends on my phone. It's a relatively light application for a video chat. This week I used it to chat with Cassie!

10. On Tuesday night, for the first time, J and I met with my dad, who is going to marry us. It feels more real now, and I for one appreciate the perspective I left with about what's really important about the whole thing and how to approach the planning - not just planning a wedding and reception, but planning our lives together as a married couple. Pretty cool.



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Thank you, readers, for being with us tonight, and for giving me reasons to write, and things to write about.

And thanks for joining us every Sunday night! Join the Baby Steps on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/TheBabyStepsSaga for good things every day, and updates on new posts. Come back next week for another reminder of 10 more things to be thankful for!

Until then, be kind to each other, and find a reason to smile!

posted from Bloggeroid

all good things: labor day edition

All Good Things is a weekly feature on the blog. It started as a one-hour Sunday night radio show on KSTO St. Olaf radio, featuring feel-good music and 10 highlights from the past week. The show, and its current written form, is brought to you by Clara, Second Set of Baby Steps creator, and her radio co-host Cassie. Sit back and enjoy!

1. Song of the week: Entertaining Angels by the Newsboys. This song was a standby back in my Christian rock days, but I got a hankering for it again yesterday after reading this in church: "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing this some have entertained angels without knowing it." (Hebrews 13:2.) The thought of entertaining angels just struck me immediately. And then my dad said in the sermon, "Angel means a messenger of God," and went on to talk about a beggar he met once who, he is certain, was an angel and had a message from God to deliver to my father in his time of need. We could be "entertaining angels" at any time, and I for one am always open to important messages from the universe.

2. Days off. Today, for example. Of course they never end up being free and empty as planned, but it's still a day not spent in an office chair and business casual. I hope to go back to work tomorrow feeling recharged, and the four-day week doesn't hurt either...

3. BodyFlow. Our favorite Thursday night Zumba teacher left the Y last week, giving us the kick we've been waiting for to try out new classes on Thursday nights. So this week, I went to BodyFlow, another class offering from Les Mills (creators of the well-loved BodyCombat as well as BodyVibe, BodyPump, BodyStep, BodyAttack, etc.) BodyFlow seems to be the most zen of all of these, and felt like a slightly more fitness-focused version of yoga, with some Pilates, tai chi, and dance influences. Upon leaving, I felt so centered but also as though I had definitely worked my muscles. Plus it's taught by one of my favorite instructors, who kicks ass in Combat and is a zen master in Flow.

4. NJ 40. J. and I drove up to Atlantic City yesterday for his sister's birthday, and instead of taking the interstate we (half-intentionally, half-accidentally) ended up on highway 40 through rural New Jersey. I love this road. It's the same road we took to get to the drive-in movie theater for his birthday last year, and the road itself says America as much as a drive-in movie itself. The road is lined with farm stands, diners, old cemeteries, small-town main streets, yards full of old-school trucks and cars, gorgeous farmland and ponds and bridges. Not a strip mall in sight until we hopped over to the Atlantic City Expressway.

5. Phone dates with old friends. I have an old friend who graduated a year ahead of me at St. Olaf, who calls me a couple of times a year since he left The Hill. It's easily been a year since the last time we talked, but he finally got me on the phone on Friday afternoon and we always hang up feeling like we covered important ground. Because we did.

6. Atlantic City. This can't not make the list this week. I have wanted to visit AC since I saw Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken when I was 4 or 5 years old. And finally made it. J. and I just drove up and had dinner with friends in the main floor of Harrah's casino. I will admit that I was skeptical at first, of all the scantily clad women and rich, unhappy people I expected to see, and did -- but I was pleasantly surprised to see among them people of all stripes, from the most average to the most extreme on every spectrum. And, more importantly, the people we were with were so much fun.

7. R.I.P.D. OK, not a phenomenal specimen of the film industry. But thoroughly enjoyable. It reminds me a little of Ghostbusters, with a hint of those Indiana Jones spoof movies with a nerdy sleuth protagonist (i.e. The Librarian) and goofy cop flicks. The perfect thing to zone out to on a tired Saturday night.

8. Beermosas. The last of the summer beers are sitting in prime sales locations these days, so the liquor stores can clear out their stock and make way for the pumpkin ales and Oktoberfests. (Speaking of pumpkin ales, Southern Tier's famously delicious Pumking is out and the cases cost $100 at Frank's Wine, around the corner from us. Crazy... But so good!)

Anyway, among the late-blooming summer beers is a Yards limited edition saison, which is light and dry and a little hoppy-spicy, and tastes delicious in a 50-50 ratio with orange juice. Voila! The beermosa.

9. The dog next door. His name is King and he is the king of great. He is a mutt but he has beautiful long red hair and shiny eyes that will melt your heart. The neighbor says he recognizes our cars and he always gets to his feet and starts grinning when he sees us coming. "Gotta pay the toll!" his master always says when we stop to pet him before unlocking the front door.

10. Family. As we speak Jason is helping his cousin dig out the drains of the pool she is filling in. First of all, it has been great having a pool to hang out in, especially on the Fourth of July. But it's also great to have people you can call in a hurry to help you dig out your pool drains. It's also been great hanging with my sibs before the two middle ones go back to college tomorrow for fall semester. And of course the baby. And having double dinner invitations tonight... Also, our great group in Atlantic City was made up mostly of siblings, and of the kind of friends who become family after so long.

And without these kinds of people, the ones you're blood related to and the ones you've just decided are about as good as blood-related, well... what's the point?

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Like second set of baby steps on Facebook at www.facebook.com/theBabyStepsSaga! New posts show up there first, plus other articles about post-grad life, plus teasers and other important information. Thanks for reading! Tune in next Sunday for more All Good Things, and come back Wednesday for my latest reflections on being a "new adult."

all good things: brought to you by the letter B

All Good Things is a weekly feature on the blog. It started as a one-hour Sunday night radio show on KSTO St. Olaf radio, featuring feel-good music and 10 highlights from the past week. The show, and its current written form, is brought to you by Clara, Second Set of Baby Steps creator, and her radio co-host Cassie.

1. Song of the week: The Wire by HAIM.  Girl power band with some serious talent... Plus, the video is great. PLUS, men getting broken up with like women. I really do think we do it right.

2. Bonus song of the week: Red Hands by Walk off the Earth.  It's everywhere right now, and hasn't gotten old... At least not yet!

3. Cowboy Monkey Rodeo at the Wilmington Blue Rocks. We already all know how I love the Blue Rocks and minor league, hometown baseball in general... But this took my love to new heights. Hands down, the funniest thing I have seen in months. Legitimately: monkeys dressed in fringe jackets, riding on border collies and herding goats around the field. Priceless. I highly recommend you watch this: http://youtu.be/jGqfQuy14pA

Also, Wilmington was the City That Started It All! Now the Cowboy Monkey Rodeo does shows all over the country.

4. Birthday surprises. A bunch of us gathered at Grotto on Friday for a friend's birthday, and he didn't know we would be there. The look on his face was priceless.

5. Playing it by ear and rolling with the punches. On Friday night I was trying to split my time between two birthday parties, and coordinate with a bunch of different people about who would be where when... And of course nothing went according to plan! But I did get to see and spend time with a lot of different important people. So it all worked out in the end... More or less!

6. Babies! There were babies at the barbecue yesterday. One of them was a rambunctious two-year-old who had us all wrapped around his finger... And then of course there's Jason's niece, who I swear gets cuter every day.

7. Barbecue. We had burgers and dogs every day this weekend. Delicious, of course... But mostly great because it means we're with friends.

8. Beer. Had some homebrew that was good this weekend... Also, pumpkin beer and Oktoberfest season is already starting! Not quite ready for it yet... But I'm definitely getting used to the idea!

9. Caprese salad. The "B" here being fresh basil. I am OBSESSED with caprese salad right now, since Jason grabbed all those local plum tomatoes, and has been nursing his basil plant back to health in its new, much larger pot. It's so delicious, so simple, so light and fresh!

10. Random singing. This is actually a large part of my life in general, but this week it has come up a lot. I'll say this is a sign of good feeling all around, sharing music and laughter with different groups of people, lots of "motor mouth" belting out songs in the car, and "harmonizing" with the radio and with each other.

* * * * * * *
Like second set of baby steps on Facebook at www.facebook.com/theBabyStepsSaga! New posts show up there first, plus other articles about post-grad life, plus teasers and other important information. Thanks for reading! Tune in next Sunday for more All Good Things, and come back Wednesday for my latest reflections on being a "new adult."

all good things reprise: picking up where i left it...

I got called out on not posting All Good Things last night, which is silly because I've been collecting Things to list. To tell the truth, Sunday just isn't the best day to post. My sincerest apologies to those of you who have looked for it the past two weeks. I've got to figure out a way to not miss it.

I've been toying with the idea of posting on Monday, since Monday is a day a lot of us need reminders of the Good Things anyway. So I'm going to try it, starting tonight. Please bear with me! And thank you :)

1. Song of the week: Follow Your Arrow by Kacey Musgraves, who gets mad points for writing catchy cultural criticisms. This track has been inspiring me lately.


2. Guardian angel? I was leaving work in the midst of torrential downpour recently, bracing myself to get soaked on my way to the car... And as soon as I stepped out from under the overhang, the rain slowed to a drizzle! Everyday miracle.

3. Subject: Three Things I'm Grateful For. Recently I've had an email chain going with a couple of brothers from my high school crew. We cover everything from politics to pop culture to food and adventures... My favorite part of these emails, though, has been our round robin lists of "Three things I'm grateful for today." Like All Good Things, but every day.

4. Today's Google Doodle honoring the 66th anniversary of the reporting of the Roswell Incident. Take a stab first, and  if you can't figure it out fast enough (it took me several run-throughs over the course of five hours) read about it on PCmag.com.

5. Brazilian barbecue. A bunch of us went to Fogo de Chao up in Philly last night. I was terrified because everyone was talking about how much food it is... But it turns out you can choose how much you eat, which I happen to be good at, and every bite was in-cred-ib-le. Seriously, I am not a big meat-eater, but this stuff... Wow. That's all I can say. Plus, I had the best capirinha of my life. Yummm.

6. Talking to people with shared hobbies. I went to breakfast with some local writers on Saturday, just to chat. One thing we all have in common is that we are smart and passionate and it is so refreshing to talk about something we all care about. Also, I got to meet and get to know a few new people this time around, which is always a good time.

7. Drinks in jars. I poured a bunch of gin and lemonade and raspberries together into a giant pickle jar last week and we drank it on the Fourth of July. It was delicious. Also, J found an insulated plastic smoothie cup with a straw... shaped like a Mason jar. I am SMITTEN with it.

8. Figs and peaches and crepe myrtle. (This Good Thing courtesy of my mom.) They're just coming into season right now, which means my backyard is about to burst into fruit! Plus, on the Fourth, we were passing around fig spread and goat cheese on crackers, which is my new favorite snack, and I found out that one of J's aunts has a fig tree in her backyard and makes fig spread from scratch and gives it away, because she doesn't like it. So I got on the list. Now the only question is, what will I do with the figs on MY tree??

9. Summer shandy has suddenly come to the East Coast in full force. Which is odd, since I could only find Leinie's shandy at one local liquor store last summer, and now? It's gone up $3 for a 12-pack, and it's prominently displayed in every liquor store I visit (which is a lot) and a bunch of East Coast craft breweries are making it, and you can buy "fresh" shandy at bars and there are ads everywhere, on billboards and on TV. Why the sudden explosion in popularity? J says, "Because you love it and the universe heard that." I know, gross. (But secretly I love it.)

10. Air conditioners! I'm not generally big on AC, but when it's as humid and hot as it's been for the past week, I can tell you I really appreciate it. It's so hard to sleep when the air is a blanket you can't take off. So yesterday I moved into a new room in the house that has an air conditioner, and actually managed to sleep for once. And I didn't even wake up in a pool of my own sweat. Nice.

all good things reprise: episode 17

Another crazy week. This weekend's post is delayed for a number of reasons, mainly too much (good) stuff going on for both Cassie and I. I'll throw together a list now, though, since it's Monday Monday. And you can bet all our excuses will be on it!

1. Weddings! Cassie had a wedding to go to this weekend, which is super exciting.

2. Friends visiting! Also super exciting: my good friend Cat is visiting the East Coast from San Fransisco for a couple of weeks, and has come down here to visit me for a few days!

3. Milestone birthdays! J and his twin brother (weird, right?) turned 30 on Saturday! We threw them a big shindig and I think we can all agree that they were properly celebrated.

4. Trying anything once. We took the guys paintballing on Saturday, which most of us hadn't really done before. We have a lot of battle wounds, but had a great time.

5. Fake mustaches! On Saturday night we all went to a barcade where J bought a ton of stick-on mustaches from the quarter machines and passed them out. I kind of forgot that I had it on after awhile and couldn't figure out why no one could take me seriously.

6. Beautiful Creatures, new in RedBox this week. A captivating and mildly creepy movie with some profound statements about love, magic, beauty, and the good-and-bad-ness of life in general.

7. The beach! Cat and J and I took a day trip to Rehoboth Beach, left super early and spent the day on the beach. I always find sand and sea water and sunshine super therapeutic and healing. Remember how I've been calling for a healer?

8. Happy hour! This makes the list a lot, but this week we went to a new place: Brio at the mall. They have $5 drinks and small plates of food for $3.95!! And outdoor seating!

9. Man of Steel! Saw it on Wednesday and it was AWESOME! I won't say any more, but seriously, see it. Also Superman is way hot in this.

10. Local beer and local beer-related activities! We went to the Dogfish Head restaurant at the beach for lunch and it was a lonnnggg walk from the Boardwalk, but the food and beer was delicious. J's spare rib sloppy joe won food-wise; all three of our beers were phenomenal. Midas Touch, Bratty Swagger, and Tweason'ale. Check 'em out!

Good things in store this week for you? I hope so! Live it up, enjoy what you can, and make the most of whatever else you are dealt.

<3

keep calm and dot dot dot

A couple of weeks go I read a blog post comparing blogs to different kinds of beer. At the time, I thought that baby steps was a stout; now, though, re-reading the post, I think it might actually be more of an IPA: Ales have flavor. Sometimes they’re so hoppy they make your face pucker. You feel them as much as you taste them. These are blogs that make you feel something, too. They have an opinion. They’re not shy. They have passion and a natural voice. They know who they are, and they take a stand. Sometimes they’re negative. Sometimes they’re personal. I think I'm OK with that description, even though the classification is a bit ironic seeing as I am not IPAs' biggest fan. My posts are always personal. I'm tackling the Heavy Seas on a regular basis -- imagine living in my head all the time!

I think the post might have missed some categories, though. Like my classmate Caroline's blog, which I would call light but by no means insubstantial. This blog is easy to "drink," but it still has its own distinct flavor. Every once in awhile you get a hit of something heavier, like homesickness or current events or spirituality, but it highlights the beautiful things in life. We all need a little of that.

This is why I publish All Good Things on Sunday nights now. I admit the weeks get a little heavy sometimes. This week, I've had stress nightmares and anxiety taking up residence in the pit of my stomach. Makes me extra glad I started BodyCombat -- I obviously can't tell you enough how it sends anxiety packing.

I'm also really excited that summer is kicking off hard lately. Two weekends ago, my parents took J and I up to New York to see Rock of Ages on Broadway. We unfortunately couldn't get tickets together, so we saw Mamma Mia! instead. Which did not disappoint.

Plus, Rock of Ages was coming to Philly the next weekend, so I decided that in this case I could have my cake and eat it too. Please note, this is generally the biggest problem in my life right now: trying to take advantage of too many things.

In this case, though, I couldn't have made a better decision. One of my coworkers lives in West Philly, and we were both trying to find someone to go with us to the show on Saturday, without success. So, unashamedly, we became backup friends for Rock of Ages at the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia, rushed tickets and ended up with front row seats for only $22, and had the time of our lives.

There are a lot of parts of this story that are important: being open and spontaneous, going with the flow, doing something simply because I so badly want it. Even the theme of Rock of Ages is follow your dreams.

Maybe this is what has for so long been compelling to me about the eighties and rock music and dancing. It is antiestablishment, personal, true and a little wild. It is about dreaming and going your own way. (Thanks, Fleetwood Mac!)

And it's just plain old fun.

J and his brother donated an old PS3 guitar to my brother's secondhand Rock Band last weekend. So on Monday, at the weekly dinner, my sister and I got decked out in badass hot pink purple sparkly makeup and rocked out.

I used to dress up all the time. I used to play a lot more. I guess I'm growing up, but there are some things I hope I never forget. I hope there is always something I want so badly it doesnt make sense. I hope I go out of my way for them. I hope I still try new things even if it's not comfortable. I hope I never lose the ability to get lost in dreams and music and dancing (and Shake Shack) for a few hours, and that the real world continues to accommodate magic when I return to it.

P.S. Yesterday, another coworker invited everyone to join him at happy hour at the mall, and in line with this whole post, I thought, sure! I'll finish my post by phone, later.

And here I am, 24 hours and change later, writing something I didn't know I was going to say, but probably really needed to.

new territory, and oh, how familiar it is



Jason + Jerk Chicken Tacos = <3

This has been a strange and wild week. I'm spending a lot of my free time getting familiar with my new neighborhood, which has turned out to be a very cool place.

We already know I like Dead Presidents. Good food, good drinks, nice bartenders, great atmosphere and great social media. The...quintfecta? The only thing that could make it better is if they played Call Me Maybe/Gangnam Style mashups.

It turns out there are a lot of other places to like, too. Black Lab Bakery. The Blue Parrot, which was nearly empty on Saturday afternoon except for Chris, the server, who made the best mojito I have ever tasted and was also super friendly and fantastic. I'm not kidding about that mojito and I'm not even inclined to qualify that statement, and you know how seriously I take superlatives. That is, not seriously. But I really mean this one. Also, great creole food. We all know how much I love that taste of New Orleans!

Across from the Blue Parrot is a place smiling underneath a sign that says only "Pastry Shop," and which features a gorgeous display of cakes and pastries, as well as gelato. Just enough flavors not to be boring, but so you know it's pretty much the freshest gelato around.

I don't remember if I already mentioned Rocco's, where I got a gin and tonic (emphasis on the gin) and some delicious gnocchi that lasted me three days -- for only $10.

I know I have mentioned the library. It's still wonderful. The lawn is wonderful. It's the place to be on a sunny Saturday or Sunday afternoon; I've done both.

I also found another farmers' market, which to me seemed like more of a weekly carnival. It's in a park probably a mile from my house, and it had used books, some produce (sweet potatoes!), Thai and Mexican food stands, Philly water ice, and a cover band riffing on Bob Dylan.

Also had beers at Famous Tom's in Hockessin last night. It was a comfortable place, and good company didn't hurt. A bar I could get into. I may also have to start a bucket list of Famous [insert man's name here]'s bars to visit in New Castle County, because I can name at least 5 off the top of my head: Tom's, Jim's, Joe's, Tim's, and...

Well, I can name four.

AND on Sunday, I got to hit up HersheyPark with my roommates! Despite the fact that I started off the day with a bang by admitting that I don't actually like rollercoasters, I had a great time and only sat out one ride: The Comet, gigantic wooden coaster. I also flew solo (almost literally) on the Tidal Force, a log flume of epic proportions which inescapably soaks everyone within a 20-foot radius of the foot of the slide.

The last time I was at HersheyPark, I was in eighth grade and the Great Bear, a dangly-feet rollercoaster, was the big new thang. Some of our group waited in line for 3 hours to ride it; I, terrified of heights, irritated by long lines, and delicate of stomach, opted out. This time, we waited in line for about 30 minutes to ride the now 9-year-old coaster, and I loved it. This season's new ride, Skyrush, was terrifying to the nth degree, with thigh-only restraints and floorless edge seats. Needless to say, I sat in the middle. And I screamed the whole time, with my eyes closed for most of it.

OK, let's be honest, I screamed the whole time, as in, on every single ride. I still haven't completely gained my voice back.

The best part of the outing, though, was getting to spend an entire unbounded day with my roommates. You'd think we would see each other at least once a day, since we live in the same house and all, but somehow I only manage to run into them 3-4 times a week. Turns out they're pretty cool! (Ha ha, like I didn't know that before!)

In all seriousness, it is so important to me that I touch base with my roommates, and even just with my friends. Relationships of all types require maintenance, and it's been an interesting exercise so far figuring out the balance of roomies versus boyfriends versus family versus local and long-distance friends.

This brings me to one of my themes this week: living well. This also happened to be my dad's theme last week. If any of you go to Hope Lutheran Church in New Castle, you heard him preach about how will I feel at the end of my life about the way I have lived. This is partly coincidental.

And, of course, partly not. My dad is coming at this question with a bit of agitation, balancing his insatiable drive to make the world a better place, and wrestling currently with whether it may sometimes be more hurtful to speak out on an issue than to remain silent about it. I reminded him, "The beautiful thing about life is that to say we have lived well doesn't mean we haven't made any mistakes. It does not mean that we will look back and see a life free of missteps. We will look back and cringe, but that doesn't mean we can't be happy with the progress we have made and the things we have managed to figure out."

That being said, my angle of concern right now is balance. I'm struggling to balance routine with spontaneity; I'm finding balance in communication, and balance as I said between my various relationships. I'm really focused on balancing practicality, especially financial practicality, with having fun and doing things that make me happy.

Weirdly, my horoscope last Wednesday read:

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21). It's normal, but not helpful, to come at financial issues from an emotional place. Pay what you can really afford and not a penny more. Finding the right number will require thought as well as accounting.

I've resolved all the medical and auto-related expenses that had me in such a state of despair over the summer, but I'm now facing another year of doctor and dentist appointments, and adding rent, utilities, and regular groceries into the mix. Fortunately I am fairly responsible and aware, but this takes my personal finance skills to a new level. More to come, I'm sure, on that front.

I'm also suddenly very aware of external forces that factor into the "living well equation". Maybe it's that I have moved into the city; maybe I'm just out of the St. Olaf bubble and getting my feet wet in the real world. Let me tell you, that water is muddy. I'm talking dirty politics; racism, classism, sexism; poverty; violence.

A few days ago I heard a tribute on the radio to the servicemen and women who have been killed in Afghanistan this year. We are also mourning the deaths of our countrymen in Libya last week, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say there's been a shooting a week since the heat hit us a couple of months back. In fact, Wilmington was recently named the most dangerous city in the nation. And this in the face of a year of infamous shootings: Trayvon Martin; Tulsa; the Aurora theater shooting; the Empire State Building; a Pathmark in a town in New Jersey where a colleague of mine grew up.

I could be angry about these killings, but my default emotion is grief. I mourn the victims, I grieve with their families and friends; but I also mourn the perpetrators. To me this endless violence indicates a thinly veiled pathology in our society, locally, nationally, globally. To me each new crime and ensuing public outcry feels desperate, defensive, hopeless. I am too shaken and too small to understand the cocktail of factors that instigate such violence, but I listen to NPR and I talk to people and I'm trying to figure out the small ways that I perpetuate the hurt of the world, and the small ways I can turn those into healing. I take weekly, sometimes daily moments of silence to mourn for my fellow human beings, to treasure the life that I still have, and to muster enough courage for a smile, small talk, maybe a hug, and enough breath to make it to the end of another (wonderfully terrifying) day.

And in the meantime, trying to live well. Whatever that means.

smiling meditation: war stories

Last week I was driving home, touting my characteristic meditative (plastic) smile all over the place.

Note to potential smiling meditants: I know it's hard to smile for five whole minutes when you're starting out.  But after a couple of days--seriously, less than a week--your face gets used to it and the five minutes are over in a flash, and then suddenly you look at the clock and realize you've been grinning like a ninny for 10 minutes... then 15...  Trust me.  It's good for you.


In fact, my girl Kristy was telling me a pretty traumatic story the other day and I'm sitting there thinking, "When is this going to get funny?"  Because her eyes are sparkling and she just has this cute smile playing at the corners of her mouth through the whole thing.  But then the story is over, and I burst out, "That's awful!  I kept waiting for it to get funny because you were laughing the whole time!  But it never did.  If it had happened to me I would be so serious, tormented even."


"Well," she explained, "my natural face looks really angry, so I just trained myself to smile instead.  So now everybody thinks I'm just really happy all the time because a smile is my default face."


How much nicer this is than my default grimace.  Everyone probably thinks I'm a huge bitch (I have some testimony to back this up), or that I am the most unhappy person ever, or that I take myself verrrry seriously.  On the contrary, I am quite a sweet girl, if I do say so myself, and I'm actually one of the more existentially happy people I know, and I don't take myself THAT seriously.  I should work on this.


Back to the story.  So last week, as I meditated the shit out of my forced smile, I got cut off.  Twice.

Now, my normal reaction would have been to start (harmlessly and good-naturedly) cussing out these incompetent drivers under my breath.  But my road rage was surprised to find, instead of a ready glare, a silly grin in its place.  I could feel my face contorting as the two expressions battled for the front-line real estate of my visage.  But the smiling meditation, with the element of surprise on its side, sent the anger scurrying off into a dark alley somewhere with its tail between its legs.

This all happened very slowly.  I got this really odd out-of-body feeling that I had just witnessed a crucial turning point in history, like the Shot Heard 'Round The World or the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand.  Or maybe the invention of the internet.

The compound effect of this bizarre phenomenon was that I started laughing at myself, which totally dissipated the entire idea of road rage, and even sparked a hint of sheepishness about the fact that I'd gotten upset about unknown idiots who can't drive properly.

Aside from the shock factor, I maintain that smiling is a superior facial expression to the poor dejected glare, and that in a power struggle Happiness would win out over Anger.  I am not by any means downplaying Anger's very real potential to consume, and perhaps this is just another facet of my "happy endings depend on where you put the period" theory.

Either way, in my life, I accept this as one of the Obvious Universal Truths.  As you have probably gathered by now, I am a firm believer in the healing properties of laughter.  Also, if I had to choose one weapon to vanquish all the world's forces of negativity, laughter would be my first and instantaneous pick.  Call me naive, happy-go-lucky, idealistic, and I will laugh it off and move on with my life.  It's really a win-win situation.

***

Speaking of happiness, Kristy and I discovered on Friday one of Wilmington's most famous happy hours, at Dead Presidents.  A great way to end a universally weird week, with half-price appetizers from 4-7 and $3 rail drinks after 6pm.   We actually missed the half-price apps, partially because Kristy set her ID on the computer desk at my house and we had parked in the Dead Pres lot before she realized it was missing.  Partly because we weren't really looking for food anyway.

The drinks, though, were strong.  This bartender kicked my butt on the heavy-handed scale, which is saying something.  Nobody's complaining.

On the way home we stopped at this bakery we'd passed earlier, and noted for the delicious baking-bread smell hanging over the whole neighborhood.  We stopped there at 9:00, looking for pizza--but it closed at 6:00 and didn't have pizza anyway.  Just your standard bakery fare.

So we hit up Yummy Pizza instead, on the corner of Old Capitol Trail and Newport Gap.  I ordered a small Hawaiian pizza, and 10 minutes later the girl at check-out waved a box at us.  She told me how much I owed and as she counted out the change, she said, "You ordered a medium, but they gave you a large.  But we charged you for the medium."

I tipped them well, and smiled at the guys peeking out of the kitchen, and as we stumbled out into the street I asked Kristy, "Did they do that on purpose?"  And she replied, "Yup."

Again, nobody's complaining.

damn, girl

I am tired.  This is mostly because I am a woman about town.  I'm struggling to frame this post as more than just a sort of dazed review of what I've been up to lately.

Thursday nights have turned into Zumba-and-Applebee's nights with my girl Kristy.  We get our dance on, and then cart our sweaty selves up Kirkwood for half-price drinks and appetizers after 9pm.  It's great.

This week, though, Kristy was in Ohio, so I went to Zumba solo and then went to the late show of This Means War with J.  The movie was pretty much exactly what I was looking for: sexy, funny, mind-numbing enough but with some satisfying original twists and well-placed explosions.  The relationships and character motivations could have been more satisfyingly developed but the movie pretty much did its job so I can't really complain.  Here's the trailer, if you're interested.

Friday night the youth group at church had a lock-in.  (For legal purposes I must clarify that we were not actually locked inside the church; it was pretty much just a sleepover.)  It was actually a lot of fun.  Strange, though, that I am now officially a youth chaperon rather than a youth group member.

(Also... is chaperon really spelled without an 'e' at the end?  I never knew...)

I was really tired from being out so late on Thursday and working all day Friday, and dinner took forever to cook...  So I kept trying to get everyone to sit down and watch a movie so I could casually pass out.  But everyone wanted to play games, which ended up being way cooler and a riotous amount of fun.  One of the best games of Cranium I have ever played.  Also, C for Cool was the best team.  Way to go Chris!

Finally we staked out our sleeping spots (everyone, of course, trying to claim the couches hours in advance) and put in Secondhand Lions, which is a great movie.  Unfortunately our copy is a little scratched and the DVD player is old and missing a remote, so it was tough to get it going; finally I managed it (who put me in charge of running any kind of technology, I don't know) and promptly passed out.

An hour or so later, 15-20 minutes from the end, I got up from my slumber, turned off the TV power, and immediately fell back asleep -- leaving my dad, Andy and Roberto sitting in the dark saying, "Um... I guess we're not going to see the end of the movie..."  I didn't remember this in the morning, but I won't be forgetting it any time soon seeing as they will never let me hear the end of it.

Last night was girls' night.  Kristy survived the trip back from Ohio and Carly managed to make it up from Dover to go out with us.  We are the perfect trio since all of us are perpetually late for everything.  So no pressure.  After our divine classic Charlie's pizza, we rock-paper-scissorsed to see who would drive blindly toward Trolley Square, which none of us had ever successfully visited before.

After a bit of aimless weaving through dark downtown Wilmo streets, we managed to find Trolley Square, and, more specifically, Catherine Rooney's, an Irish pub apparently featuring two dance floors.  And we'd been told there is no real dancing in the entire state of Delaware.  I mean, it wasn't a rave, but it was a lot of fun.  None of us have gone dancing in forever, but we've definitely still got it...*

*See title...

The weird reality check was that we got 3 rounds of drinks for about $60.  We're not in Northfield/Newark anymore, Toto.  (So hold the line -- because like Kristy, Carly, and myself, love is almost never on time.)  We're in a city, at a grown-up bar.  And this grown-up bar featured a startlingly wide range of ages.  A middle-aged couple pretty much gettin' it on on the dance floor, for example.  Lots of meticulously curled hair, too.  I think our trio was pretty well-matched as far as badass, down-to-earth, really cute and fun girls go.

Ever since Audrey's and my encounter with the Santa Crawl back in December, I have been wanting to do the Wilmington "Loop" -- where school buses are provided to take patrons to bars all over downtown Wilmington.  Somehow I have managed to never do a pub crawl, and our Rooney's adventure only reinforced my desire to do one.  Even if the drinks are $8 apiece.  Shamrock Shuttle, here I come!

Maybe.

Back at Kristy's we decided to make some Ghirardelli chocolate chip brownies to go with our G&Ts that only got strong down at the bottom.  I guess I didn't stir them well enough.

We slept well enough, though, and in the morning discussed our different family structures, passed around the cats, and conceptualized a few memes all before breakfast.

Breakfast, just the way I like it at the Marsh Road Diner.  A classic diner for a classic Sunday brunch, classically decorated with posters of Italy, Italian art, and other proud specimens of Italian heritage.  Delicious omelet, peanut butter/chocolate chip pancakes, home fries, scrapple, tea, endless coffee refills...  I love my Sunday mornings.  Love my diners.  Love my girls.

Coming up: Wanderlust tonight at People's Plaza (another first-time venue for me), Jess' birthday tomorrow (not getting out of that one, girlfriend), and nachos on Tuesday.  We'll see if I can keep my head.

cover art

I was browsing the stacks at Barnes & Noble a couple of weeks ago, pulling out a book here or there to look at more closely.  Now, we all know how much I love metaphors, and I wish I intended to use this image as set-up for some profound revelation.  But, perhaps also in line with some literary affection, I am going to stick to a skin-deep, felt-up cliche.

And now, as the Great Professor Williamson so wisely suggests, I will stop telling you what I am going to do and just do it.

The thought that came to me suddenly in a fit of passion was the proverbial warning: Thou shalt not judge a book by its cover.

In all honesty, I have no passion for this proverb.

Not true.  (I lied to myself before, unintentionally.  I never intend to mislead you, dear readers.)  I do have passion for this proverb.  But in no universe would I hold it as any realistic standard.  Because, come on, what else are we supposed to judge a book on, but its cover?  A decent number of people are paid a decent living to create book covers that consumers will judge favorably enough to pick up, and exchange cash (or the theoretical equivalent), and take home.  And then the really good covers will be spotted casually perched upon a coffee table by the consumer's friends, who will say, "Well doesn't that look interesting," and the friends will go out to their preferred book vendor in search of a copy all their own.

I know what you're thinking: "Clara, for someone who professes such great love for metaphor, you have altogether missed the point!"  So, I will humor you and take this into the real world (because who really reads anymore, anyway?  Raise your hand if you just collect e-books on your Kindle).

The number of people who are paid an [in]decent living to create metaphorical book covers that fall favorably upon consumers of all types of goods is even greater than the literal cover designers.  And even those of us who are not paid to create an appealing product strive to create an appealing product every day.

Believe me, I commoditize self-presentation here with the utmost critical respect.  I am the Queen of Internal Battles Over Self-Presentation, that is, I care altogether too much what people think.  Or I strive simultaneously to blend in and to be unforgettable.  Anyone would tell you that this level of contradiction can only portend failure on all counts.  But I understand how important it can be to appear a certain way, to conduct oneself in a certain way, and oftentimes it is beneficial to follow the rules to get what I want.  On the other hand, one who only roams within the parameters of the game can only ever hope to achieve the average payoff of the game.  (Here comes my inner economist.  Quick, out the side door!)

The side door being, in this case, a brief foray into creepiness.  Senior year of high school the guys I hung out with had read whatever it was that talked about having a "woman-suit," and their way of processing this misogyny was to make fun of it -- ironically at the expense of their female friends.  I won't go into details, but today the word popped into my head under a totally different connotation, in a liquor store, of all places.

I stopped in to pick up a 6-pack of beer because I'm almost out, and because we were having company for dinner tonight and I thought it might be good to have some beer around just in case our guest wanted some.  I learned long ago that the best way to avoid questions is a confident sense of direction (which in my case is usually a complete facade) so I walked in, greeted the proprietors, and made a beeline for the beer cooler.

I set my choice on the counter with a smile, and the clerk snapped, "ID!"  Still smiling, I pulled it out with no particular urgency, so the two of them (husband and wife, a pleasant-looking Indian couple) could pore over it in search of my DOB, inspect my face for lies and wrinkles, and tilt the license to see the watermarks.  Finally, finding nothing to suggest I was duping them, the man handed the card back and with those eternally unnerving green Indian eyes, smiled weakly and apologetically.  "You look very young, ma'am."

I laughed.  "I know.  Everyone says that."  This is true.  People are constantly failing to hide their surprise when I tell them that Maria and Asha are 4 and 6 years younger than me, respectively.  They look less shocked if they happen to run into me in my work clothes.  I try to make them feel less awkward by joking that I can only hope I still look young when I'm 40, 50, and so on, but I doubt if any of them ever fully believes that I'm not 17.  The other day I was exchanging ages with someone and his response to my youth was, "You look young, but you act much older.  Women are like that, though."

I of course gave him a hard time for implying that I am just another average woman, and he weaseled out of the chokehold with a very meta rendition of the "unique-snowflake-just-like-everybody-else" joke.  And since I love meta at least as much as I love metaphors, I let it slide.

So all of these instances, far from making me feel insecure about my green-dom, have done more to force me to wear in my "woman-suit" of sorts.  I am learning to carry myself more like a woman, less like a college girl.  More importantly, I am learning how to navigate my own personal carriage without wobbling, faltering, or turning over in a ditch.  Knock on wood -- because we all know that overconfident drivers are at greater risk of accidents.  (Don't quote me on that, though.  It's mostly circumstantial.)

This is progress, and I am starting to feel more comfortable than ever in my very own skin.  How very refreshing.  (Also in my very own family...  But that is perhaps a story for another day.)

OK, not a story for another day.  I'm just going to say yet again that I love them, and I could not be happier to be spending this time with them.  This afternoon my sisters and I and our dinner guest laughed so hard for so many hours that Maria's and my throats hurt by the end of the evening.  Good times.  Remember what I said about how crucial hilarity is...

Now, speaking of being of legal drinking age, and being comfortable in my own skin, and laughing a lot, and judging books by their covers, for that matter...  I am coming to terms with my indecisiveness surrounding beer lists.  I have a few "favorite" beers (New Glarus Totally Naked, Old Dominion Oak Barrel Stout, Mudpuppy something-or-other -- if only on Wisconsin mornings) but I don't really do the go-to thing.  Maybe I just haven't found it yet, but I like to try new things.  I like to judge a new beer by its label, or by its name, more like.  I like to weigh reputation, context, recommendation, and creativity of presentation, and then top it off with a flourish of impulse, and get something I sometimes can't even pronounce.

Saturday night at the Homegrown I further solidified my unexpected growing infatuation with interesting stouts, by haphazardly ordering a bottle of North Coast Brewing Co.'s Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout.  My companion fortunately warned me of its high (9%) alcohol content and predicted that it might be too heavy for me, but I actually really liked it.  Partially because of the creepy picture of the creepy dude on the bottle, partially because I actually love that deep stout color, partially because it was full and good.  This stout wasn't very bitter, and I found it warm and almost sweet.  A very pleasant drinking experience.

We left after just one, though, because I had to drive home before the cows beat me to it, and walked around the UD campus a little.  It was really cold, but I love campus greens (the quad, to all ye Oles) and clear skies at night between those classic buildings pillared and painted for academia.  Also, the green was still strangely green, even in the dark, and even in January.  It was a lovely night.

The beer I chose today was from Dogfish Head, a Delaware brewing company located down in Dover.  Their big thing is pale ale, at least that's the impression I get, and that might be a seasonal technicality.  Whatever the case, their motto is "off-centered stuff for off-centered people," and most of what I've tasted from them makes me want to err on the side of normal and centered.  But, I really want to like some of these beers since they are local.  (Oh no, here comes my hipster ego!  Quick, out the side door!)

So, I'm still trying.  I chose a mahogany ale because I love the color and concept of mahogany, and because the brew is called Raison D'Etre.  Too good.  Dogfish Head caps come in a gorgeous golden-bronzey color, with a sharky fish silhouette, so this is also exciting.  It should provide fodder for some jewelry for my beer-loving 'Sconnie mates.  As for the drink itself, it looked beautiful in my clear-bottomed mug, swirling with foam and those mahogany tones I like to see in people's eyes.  It was a bit too heavy for my tastes, and Maria commented on its strong winey smell.  But I enjoyed it well enough.  I might have to invite a friend or two over to help me finish it, and I really need to hold myself to the task of not buying 6-packs of ale.

Every day I learn something new, and while covers and labels and titles are there to help us navigate our lives, I do need to remember that sometimes the best books come in an understated cover; sometimes, they come highly recommended but you would have never picked them up on your own.  The best beers taste even better when you have someone to share them with, and some beers just taste bad regardless.  I don't have to like all of them.  The best me, though, likes myself and doesn't drive into a ditch.  She holds her carriage steady and walks around the green while the tipsy wears off.  She arrives home safely and sleeps comfortably knowing that, when it comes down to it, there is nothing worth worrying so hard about that time stops.

getting social

So today I finally started the Conversation with Coffeeshopcrush.  I mean, after the customary enter-and-talk-small, and after he remembered that I like 2% milk, even though I haven't been by in over a week.  I said, "So I've got a question for you.  Where is your favorite place to drink beer?"  Get right down to the point, I say.

In the middle of the conversation I turned around and there was this small boy glaring up at me like an angry cartoon child, so unfortunately we should hurry it up.  But before I left he got out of me that I went to school in Minnesota, and he said, "You don't have an accent..."  I love when this is the first thing people say when I tell them I went to school in Minnesota.  I laughed.  "That's because I've tried to cover it up."

"It's not bad, though," he said.  "It sounds so wholesome!"

Wholesome.

I talked to Lisa on my birthday and she accused me of talking like an East Coaster, though, which I'm tickled about.  I will acknowledge the fact, for accuracy's sake, that she has been holding her breath for me to get my East Coast Twang back, so she might be rushing it a bit.  But I've started calling people "hon," which is what people do around here, so I may blend in yet.

Anyway, I got a scoop on places to go outside the college 'hood, which is also positive.

I also hit up my second Wilmington open mic last night, and got another scoop from a Wilmo native: "Have you been to the Valley?"

Now, I will just say that calling something "The _____" is a great way to get me interested.  It's just so beautifully mundane.  Doesn't "The Valley" usually refer to someplace in California?  I'm not sure, but there are valleys EVERYWHERE.  On the other hand, when I went to Maryland that one time I said, "I'm just surrounded by highways," and everyone there said, "Yeah, and it's just so flat."

The Valley in the Flatlands.  So intrigued.

It's on my list.  Sounds like a good place for a picnic.

I think I might have actually driven through there, and it's a part of Delaware that is so lush, with old winding roads and crumbling stone bridges.  He said earlier in the fall, when the sun still comes through and the leaves haven't dropped, is the best time to go.  "Just drive around back there for awhile and you'll see what I mean," he said.

This is exactly why I wanted so badly to find an open mic.  Because I went there, got myself a drink, and slid into an empty booth.  And after about 2 minutes, a couple of guys burst in the door and suddenly my booth was full of guys and coats and books and even a guitar.

It wasn't totally random, because we'd keyed into each other last time.  We liked each other's words.  This is one of my favorite ways to connect with people.  That creative circuitry is just so exhilarating.  And it makes me feel more grounded and comfortable with loving language when other people are twirling the shit out of it too.

There's something about poetry that opens up your soul to the other people in the room.  It's like, these people know what it means to love.  And what it means to suffer.  I remember reading this Kafka essay senior year of high school--I mean, let's be honest.  I don't remember reading that essay, but I remember this one line, at the bottom of some random page in the middle of all that depressing existential babble, that basically claimed that poets feel the world's suffering in an intensity far beyond the experiences of an average human being.  I think he meant "poets" in a loose sense, but I don't think he was that far off.  A lot of the poets I know are really intense people.

I realized suddenly, as though my pages slapped me in the face, that I have mostly performed old pieces.  And the more time goes by, the older they get.  I haven't written a lot of new stuff in years, nothing worth performing, anyway.  What I have written can mostly be found on scrap message paper, kitchen slips, paper bags, and napkins, and they're all clipped together next to my bed and none of them are finished.

I feel like I'm on the verge of decoding a new Rosetta stone, except this one is a message sent from my future self that I have to crack.  Like all of these little snippets of poetry will somehow, not literally, but conceptually get taped together into the True Revelations Of My Life As It Is Now.  Which is definitely different than it was in 2008, when I wrote Confessions.  I'm not trying to be condescending to the earlier versions of myself, but there is at least one new layer to me now.  Probably a few new layers, considering everything that has happened since I was cranking out all kinds of cadenced masterpieces with widespread appeal.  I'll get there eventually, I guess.  Until then, I've got a new genre to work through.  So enjoy, my lucky readers ;)

So, in reverse, that was Thursday, Wednesday...  Tuesday I went to the Y with my mom and we just chilled in our own little elliptical worlds for awhile.  As Mutti said on our way out, "There was a lot of testosterone flying around in that room tonight."  True.  I was kind of loving it, to be honest.  But there was this one kind of small guy bouncing around looking really chipper, with those South American laugh lines I find so comforting.  All those guys in the free weights area always look so stiff and serious, but this guy was almost dancing.  He walked in front of me, caught my eye, and smiled.  Such an easy, open smile.  Unassuming.

He was lifting next to the paper towel dispenser when I finished, so I threw caution to the wind and said, "You have a really nice smile."  He flashed it again, looking delighted.  Then he casually lingered while I put my rainboots back on, cleared his throat, "You also have a... beautiful smile."  And then he pulled out my favorite line: "Do you come here often?"  Except it was a legitimate question.  The best.  Really.  His name is Daniel, and that's the story of my first non-staff introduction at the Y.

moments of thanksgiving: too everyday to be cliche

I really have the most bomb family in the universe.

I am not exaggerating.

I spent the whole day at work at the restaurant, starting at 11 in the morning.  I actually had a pretty nice time, since I've known all along that there was NO WAY everything would go smoothly today.  The only thing I could do right is keep my cool, smile at every person that came in, and say, "Happy Thanksgiving" at every possible juncture.  That's the part of this job I'm really good at.

Let me just mention quickly that I'm fascinated by smoking culture in the service industry.  Apparently I'm one of 3 people on staff who doesn't smoke, and it makes me somewhat of an outsider--that I don't join any collective smoke breaks.  I actually put a lighter in my jacket pocket so that I can at least say yes when somebody asks me for a light.  Now, outsider status is my Achilles' heel; but I can't really justify starting this particular habit just to fit in.

But I finally got home.  And there was Granpa doing a puzzle in the living room, Papa doing some kind of project on the dining room table, Mutti cooking.  Thomas, Maria and Asha hollered "hello" from somewhere in the house as I let myself in the back door.

I had bought some pumpkin ale at the beginning of the season, expecting to have friends over for Thanksgiving dinner who would help me drink it; but that plan fell through so now I'm saddled with a few more beers than I can take care of on my own, and nobody else in my family drinks anything besides Country Time lemonade.

My mom is the best cook.  Plus, she remembers all the Thanksgiving dishes I say I love in the weeks leading up to the actual holiday.  Last year at the Coulsons' in Kansas City we had what I remembered as apricot stuffing but which Mary says was apricot sweet potatoes; but I said I wanted apricot stuffing and so, failing to find a recipe for it online or in any of her cookbooks, she made it up, and it was delicious.

On top of my stuffed stomach and übersatisfied tastebuds, I have hardly stopped laughing since I came home from work (speaking of laughing).  We've got age-old in-jokes, funny stories about our collective childhood, awkward moments, hilarious accidents, and weird accents.  We ended the evening getting obliterated by Granpa at Apples to Apples--the Buckners really rock at that game.  When Gramma's here nobody else stands a chance.  And then we ended the evening again with one of the most perfect pecan pies I have EVER tasted, and my brother narrating a 1980's French nature documentary about suburban Delaware.

Just a day in the life.

I am the MOST happy to have my brother home from college, to have us all in the house again.  I can't believe how lucky I am to be born into this family.  I know this is cliche, the thing all people say they're thankful for every time they have to say something they're thankful for, but I firmly believe that cliches became cliches because they're really true a lot of times in real life.  And even I can't believe how much I really, really mean it.

a few things that are greater than, or at least equal to, misery

The first step of the 12-step program should really be my Cause, because the whole "admit you have a problem" thing has turned my life around on more than one account.

(Historical examples from my life include:

 - Chapstick

 - Depression

 - "I'm [still] in love with you"

 - "I'm not in love with you anymore"

 - "I'm lonely"...)

Predictably, I'm feeling much better today, after a really delicious local craft beer, a decorating spree last night, two phone conversations with good friends in far-off lands, some good tunes, and a good rock-like sleep -- although I did dream that I was robbed at a beach bar during an impending hurricane, while wearing a mini-skirt...

The moment I really snapped out of it, though, was when I accidentally let a construction truck turn out of a gas station in front of me on my way to work this morning.  I almost sighed and rolled my eyes, but then the driver raised his coffee cup to me and I felt his smile blast straight through the tension in my solar plexus.  I laughed, relaxed my death grip on the steering wheel, and reminded myself to enjoy my beautiful drive -- and my string of unusually green lights -- to Hockessin.

I should stick a reminder on my steering wheel that altruism and patience on the road sloughs a ton of the stress off of driving.  I kick myself every day for not letting someone cross, not letting someone turn, being so anxious to get from point A to point B that I forget to be nice.  Reminds me of keys to happiness we came across in Tom's Med Anthro class 2 springs ago.

Also on the plus side, the sun has been shining in that crisp, Daylight-Savings-impending way it does come autumn -- kind of the way my knuckles start to dry out in the fall, so does the air.  Harvest-time sunshine doesn't drench you the same way summer sun does.  I spend my lunch breaks these days soaking up those rays as they slip out of reach into the southern hemisphere for a few months.  There are also delicious things about this season, like Pumpkin Spice coffee and pumpkin beer.  Mmm...  And on my way home today I saw three small kids get off the school bus to meet their moms at Hockessin Woods.  The biggest one was this tiny Asian boy who must have been the oldest, because he hurtled across the road to hug his bouncing younger sister, so excited to have her older siblings home from school.  Really warms the cockles of my bitter heart.

Let me (re)iterate my life philosophy: happy endings can exist.  The story of my life is based on true events, but it's up to me to write it.  I get to choose where I put the periods, where the story ends.  I can end it happily if I want to.  And when it stops being happy, the next sentence starts and will eventually come to resolution.

On failure leading sentences to a fruitful finish, I recommend this somewhat odd take on a tribute to Steve Jobs.  Despite my not-remotely-secret Apple boycott I am personally struck by his brilliance and resilience, and by the incredible impact of his death today on our incredibly broad and diverse society.

As if I need another reminder that I've still got plenty of sentences to write.  Thanks, Steve.

...And thanks to the driver of that construction truck on Highway 41 this morning, and his coffee cup.