This Weekend I... Volume 29

This weekend I... was supposed to be in a drunken bowling tournament up north, but the foot of snow we got on Friday shot that plan to hell. The boyfriend and I made it about three miles down the interstate, at about 30 mph, before we decided there was no way we were going to that for another hundred miles.


This weekend I... still went bowling with the boyfriend. We were bummed about the cancelled plans, so we bowled a few games at an alley in the Cities. Which, actually, was probably for the best. That way, there fewer people around to give me shit when I got a 62.

Goin' For That Gold

Last week, I told you about the time my sister and I broke into a stranger's house. Before you get the impression that we're a couple of badasses, allow me to offer another story for counter balance.

One summer, when we were somewhere around eleven, Amy and I got obsessed with badminton. Like, obsessed. Every morning we woke up, watched The Price is Right, and headed straight to the badminton court in the backyard. (I'm using the word "court" pretty loosely here. The boundaries of this court were along the lines of the first pine tree to that clump of dandelions and even with the garage, ten yards away.)

And there we stayed. For hours. Every day. And that's not even the bad part.

Between each game we'd take turns interviewing each other like we were at the Olympics or something. With totally straight faces, we'd say things like, "Well, you know Amy's a pretty fierce opponent, so I was a little nervous going into today's match. But I just kept my focus, relied on my training, and managed to pull off the win."

God, we were losers. Despite everything that was said in our post game interviews.

This Weekend I... Volume 28

This weekend I... celebrated Valentine's Day with the boyfriend lazy style. We spent the night on the couch binging on fancy cheese, wine, and Downton Abbey. Not too shabby, even though neither of is, in fact, an eighty year old woman.


This weekend I... took advantage of the mild weather and spent lots of time outside with Gordy. We played ball, like, a hundred times, and took a walk around Lake Calhoun. I am so ready for going outside to be a normal part of my life again.

The Real Gateway Drug

Forget pot. If you ask me, driving around with your friends back in high school was the real gateway drug. A bunch of teenagers behind the wheel with no agenda or destination is only going to lead to trouble. Example:

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One day, like ten years ago, my friends and I were driving around and ended up in another small town where we saw a house that looked to be abandoned. It was all dark and had bushes growing up over all the front windows. We drove by a couple more times, then decided that we absolutely had to explore the shit out of that house.

The lock on the back door wasn't very secure, so my sister forced her way through for us. We were practically giddy as we moved through the house. But apparently we were pretty oblivious too, because  we were on the second floor before we started to notice the furniture. And the posters on the walls. And the cigarette butts in the ashtray.

Clearly, this was not an abandoned house. It was just occupied by some trashy people who didn't believe in lawn care. And the four of us had officially broken into someone's home. Oops. We booked it out of the house, but not before snatching a poster advertising Black Velvet whiskey.

I never really thought about it until now, but those people must have been really confused when they got home. Their door was kicked in, but the only thing stolen was a poster that likely came free with the purchase of a 750ml bottle.

This Weekend I... Volume 27

This weekend I... was reminded that with each passing day I am turning into an old person. I had to cancel plans to get drunk with friends on Friday night because we had a contractor coming over really early Saturday morning. It was officially the most grown-up sounding text message I had ever sent. And honestly, I don't even know who I am anymore.

Speaking of the contractor...


This weekend I... spent a thousand dollars on a remodel I didn't even really want. (Well actually, the boyfriend spent a thousand dollars on a remodel we didn't even really want.)

It turns out the patio doors in our condo building were not intended for exterior use. So over time, a bunch of moisture was able to seep in and ruin the wood floor in front of the door. It's happening in all the condos in the building, but unfortunately, the association isn't going to do anything about it. Dumb.

He Puts Up With A Lot

So my Christmas present to you was a picture of Gordy wearing a festive little sweater. (You're welcome, by the way.) Truth be told, that picture is pretty old. He was barely a year old when I took it.

I tried to put that same sweater on him again a couple of years later. It did not go well. He put up a fight the entire time, so it took, like, twenty minutes just to get it on him.

And it was way tighter than it had been when he was little. It was especially bad around his shoulders. When he tried to walk he had to take stiff little steps like a cartoon body builder. It was awesome and hilarious. But Gordy was visibly miserable, so I only made him wear it for a minute.

Getting it off of him proved to be even trickier than getting it on. After several minutes of struggling, I realized that I would need to cut it off. But it was too tight to even get the scissors under the sweater. I had to snip the very edge and tear it all the way up the back.

We were like a tag team Incredible Hulk. Christmas style.

This Weekend I... Volume 26

This weekend I... decided to start blogging again. Hooray!

I don't know what happened there in January. Well, that's not true. What happened is those god damned Game of Throne books sucked me in and stole my life. Now I'm constantly thinking about war strategies, and all of my dreams take place in castles. It's ridiculous. But I'm down to the last two hundred pages, so things should go back to normal again shortly.

This Weekend I... Volume 25

This weekend I... played racket ball with the boyfriend for my first time ever. It was horrible. Or rather, I was horrible. I spent most of the hour cowering in a corner or running away from the ball. I actually swatted it away with my hand one time, completely forgetting both the point of the game, and the racket in my other hand.

I am not good at sports.


This weekend I... went out to eat with some friends and have already broken my resolution to eat healthier. So, fuck it, 2015 it is.

Take It to the Grave

I have a feeling that I'm going to end up in jail someday. Not necessarily for something I did myself, but definitely as an accomplice. (Although, I suppose committing a crime myself isn't too big a stretch of the imagination.)

See, I would never, ever rat out a friend who committed a crime. Never. If you killed someone, I'd help you bury the body and get you across the border.

I think it's something that runs in my family. We're pretty tight lipped. For example:

When my dad was a little kid, he was sitting in the car outside the courthouse waiting for his dad. Since it's a small town, the post office was located inside the courthouse. So was the jail.

While he was sitting out there, waiting for his dad to buy stamps, he saw a prisoner come out of the building alone. Then he saw him run across the lawn, hop into a pick up, and drive away. And he never told anyone. (At least not for, like, twenty years.)

Even as a seven year old, he knew the company line. I didn't see nothing.

Merry Christmas, Bitches!

This Weekend I... Volume 24

This weekend I... finally saw "Catching Fire." I saw "The Hunger Games" with my friend, Amanda, so we planned to see this one together too. But Amanda recently had a baby and has been busy keeping it alive, so it was a little tricky for her to find some free time. I know, some people have messed up priorities.

This weekend I... went to Bar La Grassa with the boyfriend for our annual Christmas dinner. Our families live several hundred miles in opposite directions, so we split up for the holidays every year. It's kind of sad, so we make up for it by having a fancy date night before opening presents. 

And speaking of presents, holy mother of God, the boyfriend got me a diamond ring. (Not the diamond ring, just a diamond ring.) It's shiny, and sparkly, and pretty, and I love it. 

This weekend I... started reading "Game of Thrones." The boyfriend read them a while back and I gave him lots of shit for being a nerd. But then there was nothing on tv Saturday morning, and I was desperate, so out of curiosity I grabbed the first volume of the bookshelf. And now I'm hooked. 

It's the worst when you end up liking something you thought you hated.

I Never Met a Cookie I Didn't Like

As I mentioned in my last post, I did some drunken baking with my friends this weekend. I used my grandma's recipe for chocolate chip cookies. They've been my favorite since I was a little kid. But originally getting that recipe from her was like prying secrets from a Russian spy.

It's not that my grandma is particularly secretive or anything, she's just really old school. She doesn't use recipes. And since she's been baking those cookies for over fifty years, she doesn't even use measuring cups. Doesn't even have to think about it.

So this is how that conversation went:

Grandma: Then you'll want to add some brown sugar.

Me: How much?

Grandma: Well, not too much.

Me: Oh, okay. So, um, how much?

Then she'd shrug and hold out her hand as rough approximation. Like I'm supposed to write down, "Add 1 Grandma's handful of brown sugar."

It's weird to feel insanely frustrated with your own grandmother. I think that was the only time I ever felt like swearing at my grandma instead of with her.

This Weekend I... Volume 23

This weekend I... did some drunken baking with my sister Amy, and our friends, Jess and Megan. We went to Jess's house intending to spend the day baking Christmas cookies. But that's not exactly how things worked out. 

I got there early, so Jess and I decided to have a champagne bottle's worth mimosas while we waited. Then, when the other girls arrived, we went to the bar to get some dinner (it's a really small town). We were only going to have a drink or two, but then some guy bought us another round. Then someone suggested a round of shots. And then another one.

We did eventually get around to baking our cookies. At midnight. Turns out baking with your friend while you're hammered is hilarious. 

This weekend I... spent several hours recovering from a booze and cookie dough hangover. Once again, Netflix saved the day.

I Want Things

I still make a Christmas list every year for my mom. It's full of practical, reasonably priced things that I will be extremely happy to receive. However, there are a handful of things that I really, really want but I had to leave off the list. Because they are not practical. And they are certainly not reasonably priced. But I still like to look at them and imagine having them.


1.) An aqua Kitchenaid Mixer To be honest, I'm not even a hundred percent sure what you use a mixer for. But I feel like if I had one of these then everything would be perfect, and I would be perfect, and all of my problems would be solved.

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2.) A cashmere hoodie Like this one from J. Crew. I could be fancy and casual at the same time. So it would really be a timesaver, mostly.

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3.) An emerald cut engagement ring I told the boyfriend we don't even have to go through with the wedding. I just want a ring that will make all the other girls jealous.

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4.) A fur-lined coat Winter has been brutal this year and I can't stop thinking about cold weather gear. This one from Burberry looks warm as hell. Classy as hell, too.

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5.) This bookcase Exorbitant price tag aside, the columns in my condo mean I could never feasibly have one. But I don't care. I want it anyway.

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You Have to Fight for What You Believe In

I got into a color fight with the boyfriend a few days ago. As in, we had a fight about colors. And it got pretty heated. We almost broke up over the color red.

The boyfriend (and Wikipedia) says that cardinal is its very own shade of red, with no connection to the bird. He thinks that the color and the bird exist completely independent of each other and just happen to share a name.

I disagree. Vehemently. I say cardinal is a color the way eggplant is a color. The name offers a comparison that serves to describe the color. So when you say the name, you picture a cardinal, and then you know exactly what shade of red we're talking about. Obviously. It's so blatantly logical that any argument against it is maddening. Like arguing against science.

Anyway, the shouting eventually devolved into ignoring one another for the rest of the evening. Neither of us is willing to concede the point. We're going to have to put cardinal in the "off limits" category for now. We should probably just avoid any discussions about colors and shapes for the near future. It's still a pretty sensitive topic.

Such is life, I guess. All grown up relationships have their ups and downs.

This Weekend I... Volume 22

This weekend I... was freezing! With temperatures hovering around zero for the last few days, I spent most of the weekend wearing wool socks and a winter hat.

This weekend I... had Sunday Funday. My friend Nathan and I decided to bundle up, brave the cold, and get daytime drunk at few bars in my neighborhood.

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This weekend I... finished up my Christmas shopping.

I also got a little something for myself. I was walking through H&M was literally stopped in my tracks by this number.

The boyfriend warned me that people will think I'm going to an ugly sweater party whenever I wear it. He may have a point, but what can I say? I'm a sucker for clothes with animals on them. I now have a deer sweater, a deer t-shirt, a horse sweater, a raccoon tanktop, and a great dane t-shirt. I may dress like a four year old.

The Day Disaster Struck

Someday I will likely be one of those ladies downtown pushing around a grocery cart full of my things. For the time being, I just carry a whole lot of shit in my purse. I carry so much shit around with me that I used to go through two or three bags a year. They would just wear out and fall apart after a few months.

So a few years ago I decided to get a really nice purse, one that would hold up for a while. I kept my eye on Neiman Marcus, saved up for a couple months, and splurged like a mofo.

Then one morning, like six months later, I was using the purse precisely as intended. I was carrying all my usual junk, plus the stuff I brought to work for the day: a can of pop, a frozen lunch, and a thermos full of chocolate milk.

When I got to the office I set down my bag and settled in. I reached for my breakfast, the chocolate milk in my purse, and was met with a swampy, cold mess. The top of the thermos had popped open somewhere between home and work leaving and inch and a half of sticky ass chocolate milk sloshing around the bottom of my fifteen hundred dollar handbag.

I pulled out all of my dripping wet things (leaving faint stains in the carpet that remain to this day), then went to the bathroom and poured out fourteen ounces of catastrophe. I spent about twenty minutes scrubbing, and rinsing, and fighting back tears. But miraculously, I managed to save my precious baby. By the time I was done, you couldn't even tell that the unthinkable had happened.

A few months later, I set down my purse to dig out my keys and a can of Dr. Pepper exploded inside it.

Despite what people say, I refuse to stop carrying liquids in my bag. I don't think that's the problem. I think the bag cursed by the ghost of a still living Marc Jacobs. But I also refuse to stop carrying the cursed bag because, you know, pretty!

Rappy Rirthday (That's supposed to sound like Scooby Doo)

Gordy's fourth birthday was on Sunday. Well, approximately. We just know he was about ten weeks old when we got him. And that was in early February. So we decided his birthday is December first since it's easy to remember.

His actual birth date was not the the only thing the boyfriend and I were totally clueless about that night. (As you may recall, we got him while we were drunk. At a rodeo.) The lady told us he was a blue heeler, but neither of us knew a thing about the breed. We had to Google it when we sobered up and got home.

Puppy's first Google

Every single website we saw stressed that blue heelers are extremely high energy dogs. They said they need to be on farms or ranches and are certainly "not suitable for apartments." The boyfriend and I live in an eight hundred square foot condo in the middle of the city. Which means we accidentally got the worst possible dog for our living situation. Oops.

But it's turned out surprisingly well. I guess I took all of those warnings as a challenge; sort of "like hell we can't." It helped that the boyfriend has a home office. And it really helped that there's a dog park about fifty feet from our building. (Something we barely even noticed when we bought the place.)

Also helpful? Gordy was f-ing adorable, so I was less inclined to drown him in the bathtub when he was acting like a total shit. Which was often. He was a god damned monster as a puppy.

I fell for that look every time.

This Weekend I... Volume 21

This weekend I... went home for Thanksgiving, and I mostly just ate and napped the days away. Every time I go home I spend an absurd amount of time sleeping. My mom thinks it's because I feel so comfortable there. I think it's because they may have a carbon monoxide leak. Either way, I'm not complaining.


This weekend I... celebrated Gordy's fourth birthday with him. I tried to make it festive with a sparkly birthday tiara. It lasted about a half a second on his head before this happened:

Come on, Gordy. You're almost thirty (in dog years). Start acting like it.

This weekend I... read Neither Wolf nor Dog: On Forgotten Roads with an Indian Elder by Kent Nerburn. It was a really good book that I finished in two days. But it made me feel super guilty about a bunch of things I had nothing to do with. It's so hard being a white girl.

It's the Little Things

With Thanksgiving just a day away, I can't help but think about all the wonderful things in my life for which I am thankful. This year, I think I'll focus on all of those everyday, easy-to-ignore, little things that make me smile inside.

• Cracking that thin layer of ice on the sidewalk

• Shuffling through piles of fallen leaves

• When dogs growl and run in their sleep

• The smell of coffee

• The smell of books

• Whenever Patrick Stewart posts anything online

• Waking up and seeing that there are still several hours before the alarm goes off

• Flipping the pillow over to the cold side

• Getting the new issue of National Geographic in the mail each month

• Getting anything in the mail that isn't junk or bills

• Licking the spoon after baking

• Watching my dog lose his mind every single time I come home

• Realizing it's a pamphlet, not a parking ticket

Now that I'm thinking about it, there are literally a hundred more things I could add to this list. I'll just stop here and be thankful for how generally awesome life is most of the time.