Not ready to leave
Flip flop weather behind yet
Yes, my feet are cold
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Saturday, October 12, 2013
A Saturday Morning Haiku - for Boo
Sleep still in my eyes
Him and me, close and cozy
Early morning joy
Him and me, close and cozy
Early morning joy
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
An Autumn Love Story
October is here which means fall is here which means I long for Michigan.
I love Seattle, but every year when the seasons begin to change and the smell of fall is in the air, I really miss Michigan. I miss my family and my friends and the seasons and the friendly and the accents and the Lakes and the smells. Each season has a distinct smell in Michigan. You can step outside, breathe deep and know exactly the time of year. Fall is the best, it's my favorite season, my favorite smell. It's pumpkin pie and crisp leaves, tart apples and Halloween, thick tights and bittersweet endings, spicy bourbon and Friday night football games, family and fireplaces, chilly mornings and melancholy nights. It's a little sad, a little disappointing, a little gray. And then, just as quickly, it becomes warm and delicious and bright. Sunny and shiny, chilly, but with the promise of an evening fire.
This is every day during autumn in Michigan. It doesn't happen as often here. It is a lucky day, and ever-so-slightly sad day, a day made for a glass of Cabernet, to smell fall here. And then suddenly, there's that familiar tug, that pull towards the middle.
No matter where I am, no matter how deep I travel, my compass always points towards Michigan. Always my home, forever fall.
I love Seattle, but every year when the seasons begin to change and the smell of fall is in the air, I really miss Michigan. I miss my family and my friends and the seasons and the friendly and the accents and the Lakes and the smells. Each season has a distinct smell in Michigan. You can step outside, breathe deep and know exactly the time of year. Fall is the best, it's my favorite season, my favorite smell. It's pumpkin pie and crisp leaves, tart apples and Halloween, thick tights and bittersweet endings, spicy bourbon and Friday night football games, family and fireplaces, chilly mornings and melancholy nights. It's a little sad, a little disappointing, a little gray. And then, just as quickly, it becomes warm and delicious and bright. Sunny and shiny, chilly, but with the promise of an evening fire.
This is every day during autumn in Michigan. It doesn't happen as often here. It is a lucky day, and ever-so-slightly sad day, a day made for a glass of Cabernet, to smell fall here. And then suddenly, there's that familiar tug, that pull towards the middle.
No matter where I am, no matter how deep I travel, my compass always points towards Michigan. Always my home, forever fall.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Lights Out!
A few weekends ago, Boo & I took a little trip out to a place called Herron Island where our bestie, Abra, had rented a house, and, another bestie, Laetitia was visiting from Prague. Herron Island is pretty remote. No stores, no bars, no nothing on the island except for lovely homes & beautiful water views. Ahhh.
The weekend we were there, the beautiful views were marred by a little bit of rain. Okay, a lot of rain. No big deal! When you've got good friends, a box of wine, and Team Umizoomi on Amazon Prime, you're in good shape. We spent the day working, reading, playing blocks, cooking, watching bad TV & crappy movies. (Well, only if you qualify "Dude, Where's My Car" as crappy which I most definitely do not.) We watched as the rain grew progressively harder, and we cheered as some rare lightening lit up the Pacific Northwest sky. All in all, it was the kind of relaxing awesomeness you can only achieve on an island with no nothing.
And then it happened.
One of those rare bolts of lightening lit up the sky, and our little island house turned dark & silent. Yes, the power had gone out. Shit.
We had just settled in! We had just queued up Umi on the laptop for Boo. We had just started a "Project Runway" marathon. We had just laid out our dinner plans which most definitely required electricity. And - OH MY GOD - our mobiles weren't working and neither was the WiFi! This was a true emergency.
After the realization that we could not check Facebook for an unknown amount of time had fully sunk in, we knew what we had to do. We all took a different floor of the house to search for candles & flashlights. We pulled out all of Boo's toys & books to keep him entertained. We lit candles & placed them strategically around the house. We corked(?) the box of wine. And for three hours, we talked to each other. We played pillows with Boo. We watched the rain. We weren't distracted by a text or a tweet. We didn't pause midway through a conversation to check our email. We didn't sit in silence for a straight 42 minutes while Tim Gunn & Heidi Klum ran commentary. We enjoyed both the silence & the dark.
But, three hours later, when the electricity popped back on, we all cheered. We celebrated that we could once again catalog our every move on social. We rejoined the "Project Runway" marathon, and we all checked our phones. Boo watched one more episode of Umi before bed. But it felt a little like the end of something.
The lit candles were the one indication that the power had ever been off. And, as we drank our boxed wine and watched the flickering of the flames, we made a decision. The power would go out again the next day too - whether it wanted to or not.
And so, on our last night on the island, we enjoyed a self-imposed 2-hour blackout. No phones, no WiFi, no TV, no laptops, no lights - just 3 good girlfriends (and a little Boo too), a box of wine, and a cutthroat game of Monopoly.
Sometimes you can just see everything so much better in the dark.
The weekend we were there, the beautiful views were marred by a little bit of rain. Okay, a lot of rain. No big deal! When you've got good friends, a box of wine, and Team Umizoomi on Amazon Prime, you're in good shape. We spent the day working, reading, playing blocks, cooking, watching bad TV & crappy movies. (Well, only if you qualify "Dude, Where's My Car" as crappy which I most definitely do not.) We watched as the rain grew progressively harder, and we cheered as some rare lightening lit up the Pacific Northwest sky. All in all, it was the kind of relaxing awesomeness you can only achieve on an island with no nothing.
And then it happened.
One of those rare bolts of lightening lit up the sky, and our little island house turned dark & silent. Yes, the power had gone out. Shit.
We had just settled in! We had just queued up Umi on the laptop for Boo. We had just started a "Project Runway" marathon. We had just laid out our dinner plans which most definitely required electricity. And - OH MY GOD - our mobiles weren't working and neither was the WiFi! This was a true emergency.
After the realization that we could not check Facebook for an unknown amount of time had fully sunk in, we knew what we had to do. We all took a different floor of the house to search for candles & flashlights. We pulled out all of Boo's toys & books to keep him entertained. We lit candles & placed them strategically around the house. We corked(?) the box of wine. And for three hours, we talked to each other. We played pillows with Boo. We watched the rain. We weren't distracted by a text or a tweet. We didn't pause midway through a conversation to check our email. We didn't sit in silence for a straight 42 minutes while Tim Gunn & Heidi Klum ran commentary. We enjoyed both the silence & the dark.
But, three hours later, when the electricity popped back on, we all cheered. We celebrated that we could once again catalog our every move on social. We rejoined the "Project Runway" marathon, and we all checked our phones. Boo watched one more episode of Umi before bed. But it felt a little like the end of something.
The lit candles were the one indication that the power had ever been off. And, as we drank our boxed wine and watched the flickering of the flames, we made a decision. The power would go out again the next day too - whether it wanted to or not.
And so, on our last night on the island, we enjoyed a self-imposed 2-hour blackout. No phones, no WiFi, no TV, no laptops, no lights - just 3 good girlfriends (and a little Boo too), a box of wine, and a cutthroat game of Monopoly.
Sometimes you can just see everything so much better in the dark.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
It Was A Great Day
I found some old journals while cleaning out my closet the other day, and I starting thumbing through a few of them. There was an undated entry from what I'm guessing was my sophomore year at Albion. It was titled, "Perfect Moments: days I would like to live over exactly as they were." (Um, I know I'm talking about myself here, but seriously, how cute is that?)
As I read through the list, it occurred to me that nothing on it was really earth-shattering. These were not the *BIG* moments, the supposedly life-changing events that mark most of our histories. Birthdays, graduations, proms, holidays, "firsts", they were not included on the list. No, instead, the most Perfect Moments of my 19-years were made of simpler stuff.
A particularly perfect sunny August day spent at the lake. A trip to an amusement park. Wasting away an afternoon doing nothing with my BFF while waiting for what we thought was the "real fun" at a party later that night. Three college buddies walking for miles, on a road to nowhere, talking about nothing & everything all at the same time. Spilling secrets while sitting on the side of a lake drinking High Life from a can. An impromptu dance party under the stars.
I smiled as I read this list. Some of the Perfect Moments I remembered clear as day. Others I had to dig deep to place. Some of them I can't find again at all. And yet, I'm still smiling.
I'm smiling because I knew then that happiness could be found in a cup of coffee at Silverman's or a shared laugh or a real & true conversation. I knew that I had something special in the good friends that I had found. I knew that life's Perfect Moments weren't those that were photographed & stuck in albums or those with their own recurring space on the calendar or those that required a special outfit. Even at 19, I knew better.
While I've been wasting my time waiting for the "something bigs" and the "super-excitings", the for real Best-Days-Ever are taking place right now. And suddenly, I know now what I knew then. Millions of Perfect Moments are happening every day.
Now, let's start up that list again, shall we?
As I read through the list, it occurred to me that nothing on it was really earth-shattering. These were not the *BIG* moments, the supposedly life-changing events that mark most of our histories. Birthdays, graduations, proms, holidays, "firsts", they were not included on the list. No, instead, the most Perfect Moments of my 19-years were made of simpler stuff.
A particularly perfect sunny August day spent at the lake. A trip to an amusement park. Wasting away an afternoon doing nothing with my BFF while waiting for what we thought was the "real fun" at a party later that night. Three college buddies walking for miles, on a road to nowhere, talking about nothing & everything all at the same time. Spilling secrets while sitting on the side of a lake drinking High Life from a can. An impromptu dance party under the stars.
I smiled as I read this list. Some of the Perfect Moments I remembered clear as day. Others I had to dig deep to place. Some of them I can't find again at all. And yet, I'm still smiling.
I'm smiling because I knew then that happiness could be found in a cup of coffee at Silverman's or a shared laugh or a real & true conversation. I knew that I had something special in the good friends that I had found. I knew that life's Perfect Moments weren't those that were photographed & stuck in albums or those with their own recurring space on the calendar or those that required a special outfit. Even at 19, I knew better.
While I've been wasting my time waiting for the "something bigs" and the "super-excitings", the for real Best-Days-Ever are taking place right now. And suddenly, I know now what I knew then. Millions of Perfect Moments are happening every day.
Now, let's start up that list again, shall we?
Friday, August 16, 2013
I Am All Of These Things
*Yes, it's been 2 months since I've written. Let's call it summer vacation*.
I've been thinking a lot lately about different sides to our personalities, the various ways that we can behave or react depending on the moment, the many hats we all seem to wear. We may be one person to a work colleague and someone entirely different to, say, a close friend. We can even change throughout the day. For example, I always call out my own "work personality", and she is someone very different from "Mommy" or "Party Girl". But when I'm at work, does that mean I cease being Mommy? Does my goodtime girl nature just disappear during those 8 hours a day, 5 days a week?
Of course not.
This is the wonderful thing about being a woman. We are all of these things, all of the time. Sometimes one part of who we are is just a little bit more obvious, it's visible, floating on the surface while the rest of our life experiences, our personal DNA, is pushed down, a little less clear, but still there nonetheless. And, more than that, we own who we are. I am exactly who I say I am. And no one has the authority to tell me otherwise.
I am a full-time mother. I am a full-time marketer. I am a full-time wife. I am a full-time best friend. I am a full-time party girl. I am a full-time daughter. I am a full-time perfectionist. I am a full-time maker of mistakes. I am indecisive and quick and lazy and motivated and loving and hurtful and open-minded and judgmental and smart and silly and sensitive and unthinking and joyous and blue and wonderful and weird.
I am all of these things, all of the time, simply because I am.
(I am, however, a part-time blogger. I know I can't slip that one past you, Gentle Reader.)
I've been thinking a lot lately about different sides to our personalities, the various ways that we can behave or react depending on the moment, the many hats we all seem to wear. We may be one person to a work colleague and someone entirely different to, say, a close friend. We can even change throughout the day. For example, I always call out my own "work personality", and she is someone very different from "Mommy" or "Party Girl". But when I'm at work, does that mean I cease being Mommy? Does my goodtime girl nature just disappear during those 8 hours a day, 5 days a week?
Of course not.
This is the wonderful thing about being a woman. We are all of these things, all of the time. Sometimes one part of who we are is just a little bit more obvious, it's visible, floating on the surface while the rest of our life experiences, our personal DNA, is pushed down, a little less clear, but still there nonetheless. And, more than that, we own who we are. I am exactly who I say I am. And no one has the authority to tell me otherwise.
I am a full-time mother. I am a full-time marketer. I am a full-time wife. I am a full-time best friend. I am a full-time party girl. I am a full-time daughter. I am a full-time perfectionist. I am a full-time maker of mistakes. I am indecisive and quick and lazy and motivated and loving and hurtful and open-minded and judgmental and smart and silly and sensitive and unthinking and joyous and blue and wonderful and weird.
I am all of these things, all of the time, simply because I am.
(I am, however, a part-time blogger. I know I can't slip that one past you, Gentle Reader.)
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
One Time At A Party...
Introducing a new weekly feature on Baby In A Bar, it's....
One Time At A Party....
Yes, folks, each week I will regale you with a hilarious, weird, heart-warming, wild, or just plain sloppy story that occurred - you guessed it - one time at a party! Some names may be changed to protect the guilty. (But you'll probably know who they are anyway.) And, by all means, if you've got a great memory of us one time at a party, email me about it! Some of those party scenes are a bit, ahem, blurry.
Let's start with an oldie, but an oh-so-goodie, shall we? I believe the statute of limitations has run out on this one, so I'm naming names.
It was our Freshman year of college. Katie & Christine went to UM in Ann Arbor, I was at Albion, and Rene was at UM Dearborn. Although we'd only been away from each other for a few weeks, after that Summer of '94, it felt kind of like the umbilical cord had been cut. The girls picked me up, and we headed west to Kalamazoo to hit up a party at Katie's ex's house at Western.
We were 18 years old, and there was beer. In kegs. Unlimited beer in kegs. One time at a party, we were 4 best friends, and we were 18 years old, and there was beer in kegs.
After enjoying a bit of that keg beer, Katie went looking for her ex, James.* Where was James? No one knew. Obviously, she employed me to help her look for him. We ended up outside, and still, he was nowhere to be found.
"I know where he is," says Katie with a wild look in her eye. "He's in his room, hooking up with another girl!"
She sounds almost triumphant about it.
"C'mon!" she yells. She leads me to the garage over which James' bedroom is conveniently located. She hops up on the stairs, then the banister, and she stomachs her way onto the roof of the garage, ready to catch him mid-hook-up.
I am waiting safely on the ground, red Solo cup in hand.
She's completely on the roof now, and she stomps her way over the window. She peers in, ready to...ready to....
"Oh", she says, turning around. "He's not in there. Hmm."
Nope, he wasn't in there. However, Katie is still, in fact, on the roof. She walks to the edge, gets back down on her stomach and shimmies to the end trying to reach the banister with her foot. It doesn't reach.
"It's okay!" I yell. "Don't worry! Just jump! I'm going to catch you! Don't worry!"
I don't even put my red Solo cup down. Possibly, it's time to worry.
I stand on the stairs, reaching out, (beer in hand), waiting for Katie to fall gracefully backwards into my arms. Yes, Gentle Reader, Katie did fall. But not into my arms. She fell on the banister. Then she fell on to the top stair. Then she fell down each stair individually. Then she fell on to the ground.
I look down at her from the top stair where I stand and say, "You missed."
One time at a party, my best friend, Katie, missed.
*Yes, I've changed his name. I don't know why. It seems like the thing to do. I'm calling him James cause he was the first person to introduce me to the band James. I still really like them too.
One Time At A Party....
Yes, folks, each week I will regale you with a hilarious, weird, heart-warming, wild, or just plain sloppy story that occurred - you guessed it - one time at a party! Some names may be changed to protect the guilty. (But you'll probably know who they are anyway.) And, by all means, if you've got a great memory of us one time at a party, email me about it! Some of those party scenes are a bit, ahem, blurry.
Let's start with an oldie, but an oh-so-goodie, shall we? I believe the statute of limitations has run out on this one, so I'm naming names.
It was our Freshman year of college. Katie & Christine went to UM in Ann Arbor, I was at Albion, and Rene was at UM Dearborn. Although we'd only been away from each other for a few weeks, after that Summer of '94, it felt kind of like the umbilical cord had been cut. The girls picked me up, and we headed west to Kalamazoo to hit up a party at Katie's ex's house at Western.
We were 18 years old, and there was beer. In kegs. Unlimited beer in kegs. One time at a party, we were 4 best friends, and we were 18 years old, and there was beer in kegs.
After enjoying a bit of that keg beer, Katie went looking for her ex, James.* Where was James? No one knew. Obviously, she employed me to help her look for him. We ended up outside, and still, he was nowhere to be found.
"I know where he is," says Katie with a wild look in her eye. "He's in his room, hooking up with another girl!"
She sounds almost triumphant about it.
"C'mon!" she yells. She leads me to the garage over which James' bedroom is conveniently located. She hops up on the stairs, then the banister, and she stomachs her way onto the roof of the garage, ready to catch him mid-hook-up.
I am waiting safely on the ground, red Solo cup in hand.
She's completely on the roof now, and she stomps her way over the window. She peers in, ready to...ready to....
"Oh", she says, turning around. "He's not in there. Hmm."
Nope, he wasn't in there. However, Katie is still, in fact, on the roof. She walks to the edge, gets back down on her stomach and shimmies to the end trying to reach the banister with her foot. It doesn't reach.
"It's okay!" I yell. "Don't worry! Just jump! I'm going to catch you! Don't worry!"
I don't even put my red Solo cup down. Possibly, it's time to worry.
I stand on the stairs, reaching out, (beer in hand), waiting for Katie to fall gracefully backwards into my arms. Yes, Gentle Reader, Katie did fall. But not into my arms. She fell on the banister. Then she fell on to the top stair. Then she fell down each stair individually. Then she fell on to the ground.
I look down at her from the top stair where I stand and say, "You missed."
One time at a party, my best friend, Katie, missed.
*Yes, I've changed his name. I don't know why. It seems like the thing to do. I'm calling him James cause he was the first person to introduce me to the band James. I still really like them too.
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