Wednesday, April 27, 2011

summasummasummatime


Grilled steaks with these two handsome dudes reminded me of all the 
things I'm desperately looking forward to this summer: 

backyard cookouts, games & ridiculousness
tennis, tennis & more tennis 
attempting to ride my bike to work with jo
reading & crossword puzzling outside
raybans in full force
camping 
learning how to golf
exploring medora
(how very midwest of me) 
trip to Lebanon 
weddings and babies 
little brother's high school graduation 
little brother starting college at macalaster 
(closer to yours truly)
chicago trip 
(kell - we're doing it)
yard sales, garage sales, college curb week 
pursuing the lie that is a "runner's high"
iced decaf coffees & chai lattes
the smells, the colors, the sun 
blogging about all of the above

Summer is close you guys. I can feel it...coming in the air tonight. Oh, Lord. 
(too much?)

not on politics, on principle


Innocent until proven guilty. 
Loving until proven otherwise. 
Genuine until proven not.

It's how we should see people.
As good before bad.
As gifts before burdens.
As honest before liars.

And even then, even when proof says otherwise,
on the first chance or the tenth or the fiftieth,
innocence, love and authenticity can still remain. 
Because that's what hope is all about.
Believing that the best is yet to come.
In life, in others, in you.

Plus, if you haven't got hope, 
you haven't got a thing. 

Oh, and Trump? You're fired.

Marlena Shaw & Ya Boy - California Soul (The Licoln Lawyer Remix)

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

a whole new level of lazy


is what it's called when kelly and i skype each other...in the same city...from half a mile away...

On Skype we played this game where we both told stories at the same time. And instead of one of us stopping to let the other finish, we just continued on and on, talking over each other about whatever we wanted. Then, one of us pretended to be offended by the other's inability to shut her piehole and listen to the more important story (obviously mine), when in fact we were both so obviously at fault. In the end, we both apologized, laughing about being the worst people ever and vowing to listen more fully next time.

Oh yeah, that's not a game. That's real life, david at the dentist style.
Because this cycle repeated itself about three minutes later and we do it pretty much daily.
But when you laugh so hard your computer shakes, it's worth it, right?
Ya herrr!?

Sidenote 1: Don't mind my giant shoulders. I was a linebacker in high school. We went to State. enbeedee.
Sidenote 2: Ugh, false. All of Sidenote 1 is a bold-faced lie. Except for the part about my giant shoulders. Is there a surgery to get those bad boys taken down a notch? That is your project for this week, inspector gadget! Find me a shoulder-dehancing surgery stat. And make it something that's not really surgery, but that does involve eating lots of Cookie Crisp and dancing to old Prince songs. I've been looking for a better reason to do that besides "um, it's fun." Thanks. 
Sidenote 3: I know when I said "bold-faced" I could've actually put the lies in bold. Alas, i'm too lazy (see: blog title).

Monday, April 25, 2011

look who's talking too


Today, in conversations with sister:

Me: I want these. And a pair of acid wash jeans. Like my life depends on it.
Niki: I just looked at those two weeks ago. We're twins.
Me: I'm a child of the '80s.
Niki: I'm a grandpa.
Me: I'm a fighter pilot from 1991.
Me: No, I'm the girlfriend of a fighter pilot in '91.
Me: I'm Kirstie Alley before she was fat...basically.

You guys. I just want to stipulate that I'm actually a huge fan of Kirstie Alley. And I don't care about her weight (or anyone's for that matter). It just so happens that right now I'm really into her style of dress circa-the golden years of her career, when she was totally doing some next level stuff. You remember.

For the record: I'm getting those sunglasses. And the acid wash jeans. Unless you get them for me first.

Also, I wanted to show you this photo so you could see what I had for dinner last night. And because, woah, the imagery. On the way home from Gma&Gpa's I hoovered down two pieces of farm sausage. At five o'clock, I ate seven pickles and, like, sixteen Reese's peanut butter cups. I also ate an old banana (not pictured), because, hi, eating a well-balanced meal is super important to me.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

duh-nuh, duh-nuh



#11 favorite moment: time spent cuddling with Parker 
and being so proud of Emmie for what an awesome mom she turned out to be. 

Uhhmm, as made apparent by these pictures, whenever Plemel
lovin' is available, I will swoop in like a shark to grab it.

you can do


After a weekend at grandma & grandpa's 
Here are my Top 10 Cando moments: 

Plemel hugs and kisses and laughs and compliments 
(plus a few little butt taps from gramps)

Bonding with cousin Katie; doing the dishes after supper singing Willis by Sea 
of Bees, driving five hours together, catching up and taking pictures

Farm sausage. I know what you're thinking "Yuck, sausage." And you're right. 
Sausage is disgusting. But not when it's from the farm. Then it tastes like angel tears. 
Even my vegetarian brothers eat it. It's that good. 

Playing games. Getting three youngens before I was hitched in Redneck 
Life and rolling the dice in ten thousand - a Plemel family favorite. 

Caramel rolls, coffee and chit-chat at Dee's Diner 

Making everyone take the 5 Love Languages Test and finding out almost all of us 
have physical touch as one of our top love languages. Granted, we were hugging 
when we found out, so it should've been a given.

Running around the high school track with cousins Beth, Katie and Matthew. 
Giggling, telling stories and sharing headphones with Bethie for three miles.


Singing rounds of Nitty Gritty Dirtband's "Fishing in the Dark" with cousins 
('cause sometimes you just feel country)

Crying and wheezing and gasping for breath after a fit of laughter caused
by singing rounds of "Fishing in the Dark" with cousins


Saturday, April 23, 2011

flattery will get you everywhere


And so will sending your sister Parks and Recreation memorabilia in the mail.
There's no point in lying about it. It's true. I'm only half ashamed to say so.

Thank you, Sami, for this shirt. And for being a fantastic brother, a profoundly thoughtful human being and an inspiration on how to treat other people with respect, compassion and selfless generosity. I think you're just about the greatest there is.

And also, thanks again for forgiving me (your older sister) for being the most ridiculously obnoxious thirteen-year-old bossypants ever. I still seriously plan on growing out of it, I swear.

Friday, April 22, 2011

good friday


No, but really. It's fantastic. 

I am supremely humbled by the happy thoughts 
and warm messages that were sent my way yesterday. 
It made me feel beyond blessed, eternally grateful, and 
extra excited to see what this new year has in store. 

I've loved sharing my big little adventure here. 
And am so thankful that you kind of actually care about it.
I think you're, like, totally the best.

Boomshakala! 
(That was just for added flare)

Thursday, April 21, 2011

25


Here's to the next twenty-five years; to growing
but never growing up & to living loud. Cheers! 

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

sea of love

photo of a print by art of chase

"The light in me honors the light in you."

Dear readers. I have something to say. Please bear 
with, because it's almost my birthday and all I want is to be heard:

I believe that every person deserves to be loved. 
To know love and to feel love. 

And that's why, in the big ways and the medium ways, 
but especially in the small ways, my goal is to show love. 
To let everyone I meet know that I see them
That I think they have worth and potential and that they are special. 
To remind them that they deserve everything out of this life. 

You may have heard me say that I try to be kind, always. 
That sometimes I forget, because I am very foolish. 

But each morning I wake up reminding myself not to take 
for granted the fact that - even though I am just one person and that
in this world I am so small and imperfect - I can still show someone
that their light is important. I can still show them love. 

You, too, are just one small person in this big world.
But every interaction is another to chance to turn it all around. 
For yourself and for someone like you. 

So I ask you to choose kindness. 

Because we are all more the same than we are different. 

And it beats making your barista feel like a load of crap because your 
double-shot venti mocha wasn't as hot as you wanted it to be. 

Namaste. 

Motopony - King of Diamonds

ps. I'm sure the title of this blog made you expect Sea of Love by Cat Power,
but I just couldn't resist posting the song that I've been listening to on repeat.
You can get your fill of Miss Power here

Monday, April 18, 2011

Check your facts, factchecker


Fact: I like hugs...to the point where I may be addicted to them. And if you're all "Hey, this girl needs help and I know of a hugging hotline," right now, then I demand you keep that number to yourself. Because if hugging's wrong, I don't want to be right.

My hugging has no limits and is also, apparently, accepted as tender in major cities across the U.S., namely Fargo, North Dakota. This weekend I hugged a bunch of people I don't know, including:

1. The two maintenance men at my apartment (pictured above). They cut down a pipe outside my door last minute on Friday, so that my new couch could fit in. Sadly, couch still wouldn't fit and had to be returned. But, hey, if I can't get one couch, I will gladly take two hugs to make up for it. Every cloud, I always say. Actually David Brent says that, but let's not focus on the details.

2. The glasses doctor at LensCrafters. Well he might not technically be a doctor, but he wearing a lab coat, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. (I realize this assumption is not only offensive to those who go to "doctor school," but that it could be problematic in the future, say Halloween time. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.) Anyway, I bought a pair of sunglasses online and he adjusted them for me. And guess what, people - it was free of charge! "Well, not in my world, pseudo-doctor," I thought. He deserved something for that skill set, and that something was a hug. Sidenote: the little nose piece fell off later that day. I have to go back and get that fixed this week...and after that hug I may or may not be allowed back in the store, so if you know of another place that does that sort of thing - or appreciates hug payments - let me know.

3. Kyle, the manager at Forever21. Okay, I didn't really hug him. I tried to, though, because he helped me exchange a pair of jeans there. And if you've ever been to a Forever 21 you know that there's basically one size of each item in the store and none of them are by each other. It's basically a time warp when you walk through the door. All of a sudden you have no concept of time or space, everything looks like it could fit you cute (but doesn't), and you somehow every $7.80 shirt seems like it could have staying power in the world of fashion. At Forever 21, I needed Kyle and he really pulled through for me. He laughed at my and Kelly's bizarro jokes instead of trying to have us committed on the spot. He told the cashier to exchange my jeans, even though it's against the rules. And, I'll be honest, he was not bad looking one bit. So, Kyle. Thank you. And watch out. Because next time, my friend, you are not getting out of Good-deedsville scott free. You are getting hugged.

p.s. If the quote "Brothers don't shake hands, brothers gotta hug" has been ringing in your ears because of today's blog topic, then guess what? Me too. And for that, I want to basically hug the heck out of you.

p.p.s. I know you're totally like "Ew, cell phone pics. My eyes are burning due to poor quality. It feels like crushed up salt&vinegar chips are being dumped in my retinas through a tobasco funnel. Ouch, ouch." Well, I'm sorry. My highly skilled paparazzo were on vacay this weekend. Everyone deserves a break, you guys.




Sunday, April 17, 2011

homely is where the heart is


What? Sometimes you have an ugly Sunday, okay?
Apparently, that's the price of joy.


Dave Matthews Band - Shake Me Like a Monkey  

Saturday, April 16, 2011

the hokey pokey




Two fantastic girlfriends. Six thousand compliments. 
Three hundred hearty laughs. Fifty-eight picture attempts.
One more ridiculous, priceless night together.

And that's what it's all about.

Badly Drawn Boy - Once Around the Block



***Update: And five pieces of taco pizza. Oh, the indignity of it all!*** 

Friday, April 15, 2011

adventures at Y west

I live downtown, so I usually go to the YMCA three blocks away. This week, I went to Y West for the first time ever to pretend to be fit over my lunch break. These were my thoughts:

Woah, Y West. I expected your locker room to be more bomb shelter-y like the other one. And these lockers could fit at least three skinny nerds from a predictable sitcom in them. 

I have to run thirty minutes? In a row? / needwater/ amidying / cantbreathe / Holy, I ran thirty minutes! In a row

Ahem, pardon me, creepy old man on the stair machine? I won't be here long enough to watch you stretch, so why don't you just go back to watching Guiding Light on tv1. Thanks. 

Ummm YES, guy folding towels at the work out desk, that is all I'm doing today. My face is boiling lava hot and is visibly melting off before your eyes. Isn't that enough for you? 

Hmm...I think these towels are bigger than the ones at downtown Y. In fact I'm sure of it, because these ones almost cover my whole middle, instead of reaching just below my belly button. Are you rich, Y West? 

Just kidding, I spoke too soon. You so clearly took from the shower-curtain-width fund to increase the coverage of your towels. 

Hey, middle-aged dude in the YMCA t-shirt, no need for the "Should i say hi?" song and dance. Just smile and nod or something. You're making this really awkward for everyone involved.  

Thursday, April 14, 2011

other people are cool, too: sister



I have a twin. Okay, not really. But I have a sister (close enough).

I could go on and on about her and us and how we work. About our nicknames and inside jokes and weird voices and crying like losers at a movie's happy parts and giggling uncontrollably before bed and getting in trouble for being loud and listening to a song on repeat for three hours just to figure out the perfect harmony together.

But I will spare you today, because no one wants to hear a bunch of mushy gushy stuff on a Thursday. That's a Sunday night kind of thing. Which is why Extreme Home Makeover does so well in the ratings. I mean it must be, because that Ty Pennington is seven kinds of cray-cray.

So, let me say this: I hope you have a sister like mine who just makes your world. Bug: I am thankful for you every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. And you, my wonderful readers, can learn why by following her very new little blog lush.

Colbie Caillat - One Fine Wire 

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

I need a second opinion


I know, I know, you've had too much information about my shopping habits this week. But guess what? I don't believe in t.m.i. (No really, stick around and things are gonna get weird). So, let me introduce an integral part of my shopping pattern: the dressing room picture text.

Here's the rub:

1. My shopping experiences usually start as window shopping experiences.
2. This intention to browse only, is quickly tossed aside when I find a bunch of stuff I could maybe somehow like a little bit. Many are "only made for a mannequin's body" type outfits. But, not one to be easily discouraged, I grab these outfits... in 3 sizes and both colors. You never know, right?
3. I then take my loot into dressing room. In shifts. This is retail war and a six-item limit is my enemy.
4. I try stuff on. Look at it from all angles and do this shrug thing that I'm pretty sure is genetic, because my mom and sister do it, too.
5. I remember that I'm the absolute worst decision-maker ever.
6. I text a bunch of pictures to my sister, Kelly, and/or Kenzie. Usually all three.
7. After getting their consensus, I do as they say. (People are sheep, man.)
8. I leave happily with my purchase. Yes, purchase, singular. I'm sorry, fitting room lady, that I only ended up with one thing out of all that. But you know what, I hung them all up again, and even zipped the pants, so there's no need to be all eyeball-rolly.
9. Time passes. Dress has integrated nicely into wardrobe, when BOOM! Regret hits me like the pink power ranger. Not for buying the dress, which is getting along so fabulously with my blazers. It's regret for the picture text!

Why? Because. Because later, I will inevitably make the mistake of openly scrolling through my phone's photo gallery to show someone a silly picture. Then GASP! In my excitement over my purchase (slash my laziness), I didn't delete any of the photos of me trying on clothes! Dumptrucks and fudgecicles, I look like a certified freakshow!

So, if you ever catch a glimpse of one of the 1,000 awkward photos of myself in various dressing rooms, know that the pictures only exist because, at nearly 25, I am incapable of making a concrete choice on my own. Not because I'm an aspiring Mossimo model. Okay? Don't judge me.

Also, what do you think about that coat? (No, really.)

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

some kids are pretty awesome, actually


I spent the weekend an hour north, visiting my friends Dave & Kari for their son (my godson) Micah's second birthday, Veggie Tales style. D&K have four (point five) kids: Isaac, Lilah, Asher, Micah and tbd baby -- all under seven! And while I don't love all kids, I luuuuurve theirs.

Partly because they're hilarious, cute and I've been in their lives since Isaac's first day of life, so I'm not as awkward as I might be around other people's kids. But also it's probably because they, for some reason think I'm pretty much the coolest. Either despite the fact that I'm a total looneytune or because of it. I can't be bothered to find out.

Isaac and I had a sleepover in his room, as per his request (aw!). Lilah whispered that she didn't want to me leave at least eight times and was a serious cuddlemonster due to allergies. Asher was my sidekick all weekend and stood at the top of the stairs yelling "Mama! Can I go wif Daaani? I wanna go wif her. Can I, Mama?" for a full four minutes after he found out I was leaving (be real - that's a long time for a three year old to stay focused on one thing). And Micah said my name all weekend, which, at age two, is enough to make my tiny black heart throw a party of its own. Because there's something about a kid loving you that just makes you feel like the absolute best.

D&K - I love your babies. Glad your giving Red* a run for her money and adding more to the loot. :)

The only downside to this weekend was missing my cousin Sarah's daughter's Justin Bieber birthday party. This was a super bummer to me, because a) I have Bieber fever - I know, embarrassing and b) I'm obsessed with Sarah and her family - they're adorable. So, Paige-a-roo - happy birthday. This one's for you.

Justin Bieber - Favorite Girl (Live) 

*Red is my mom's nickname sometimes. She has five babers, including me. And we are, like, completely nutso. So she deserves a lot of credit. (love you mom!)

Monday, April 11, 2011

i'm having a baby!


...is what my Target basket screams. Gotcha!

I don't know about you, but I am all kinds of about Target. To the point where I consider walking those red and white aisles my main form of exercise. More importantly, for some reason - probably because it's a Monday, I'm feeling sassy, and really you can't stop me - I feel the need to tell you that my bathroom shelves are stocked with baby goods. From Aloe baby creamy oil and lotion from Johnson's baby naturals collection to baby oil and Suave for Kids Awesome Apple Detangler. I can't get enough. I spent a fortune on the stuff this Sunday.

"A fortune?"
UmmmTchyah. Just to keep a baby soft and clean (you know, babyesque) costs like a million dollars, turns out. But you know what? I don't even care. If it's good for baby, it's got to be good for me. And also, smelling like a baby butt is sort of my thing lately.

For the record, that last one on the list there - Apple Detangler - is the business, for real. If you're looking for a good hair day, get the stuff. And remember, you heard it here first (except I heard it from Kelly, but she doesn't have a blog to take the credit with...so)

Finally, to all one of you who wants me to have a baby at some point in this lifetime and to the rest of you who are all "woah, girlfriend is a mess and should not be subjecting other cute, little persons to that kind of insanity.": I'm kinda-ish sorrry about that little trickski up in the title. But just kinda-ish.

ps. You'll go back to loving me once you catch your breath. I just know it. :) Happy Monday!

Freelance Whales - Generator ^ First Floor

Friday, April 8, 2011

other people are cool, too: bcf


I don't know if any of you are lucky enough to be close to your cousins, but hatetorubitin I am. I am actually great friends with most of my cousins. One of them is my bcf Teresa. I mentioned her and her hubby Sean in the post this is what crazy looks like. And today, because I just can't help my dang self, I'm mentioning her again.

My bcf (best cousin friend) is a phenomenally talented photographer. No, but seriously. Like if I wasn't completely in love with the type of human being she is, I'd for sure be too jealous to be her friend. Alas, she's smart and sassy and filled with more sweetness than a gumball machine. And also, I can't breathe when I'm around her, because we laugh too hard at things that don't make sense. It's borderline our own language - the laughing/ oneword/ laughing/ handmotion/ gaspingforbreath/ laughing thing we do. If it wasn't so funny to watch, Sean would probably be really annoyed. (love you Seany!)

If you want to witness her effortless talent yourself, which I strongly recommend, you can follow her at http://teresamarrin.blogspot.com/.

As if that weren't enough, girlfriend's got a great taste in music. The type of person who outofsheercoolness hears a band eight years before you do, but doesn't rub it in. I know, it's practically annoying how great she is. Except it's not.

I love you bcf. You're one of my favorites. I'm so proud of who you are. And I simply can't wait until we become old cat ladies together while Seany dumps cold tuna fish onto a plate for us at lunchtime. Can't. Wait.

Feist - My Moon My Man

Thursday, April 7, 2011

this ain't your mama's pacman


When it's time for lunch, you might go out to eat. Or you'll unpack your leftovers from last night. Or you'll microwave one of those smart ones and think about how skinny you'll be this summer to combat your feelings of hunger and disappoint. But sometimes, like if you're me, you'll play board games with your coworkers. 

I know what you're thinking. Aw, games. What a sweet, sweet girl. Well, I'm here to tell you that that little assumption of yours is f-a-l-s-untrue. 

You see, I was never much into sports (and that's being generous). But I have a board-game-only competitive streak. And let me tell you something my blogaroonis, it's not a good look on me. It scares children and adults alike. And I love adults and children! Alas, as much as a try (and try my hardest, I do), I just can't seem to be a good sport about losing board games. Not even around other people's families. And I love other people's families! 

It's because of my family, really. Case in point: We still give my brother Andrew the business for being the type of 11-year-old to take his forearm and violently whip all the little henchman off the Risk board when he was losing. Slash we were ganging up on him so we stood a chance. Sure, at 18 he's grown up by now. But every time we bust out Settlers of Catan or Ticket to Ride, my three other siblings and I can't resist looking at him with eyes that ask "Can you handle it this time, big boy?" ... Pretty sure he loves it. 

Weeknights, Saturdays, Holidays. When it comes to board games it's Christmas Shmistmas. We all quit "playing nice" for a shot at a win. It's the same reason that, if we have tricked someone into being our significant other,  we don't invite that person to cookie frosting or Goofy Movie night. No, we invite them to game night. Because if he or she can handle us after a few glasses of red wine and a couple rounds of SORRY!*we know they can handle us for good. 

And if you're under the sillypants impression that there's a better test of dedication out there then: a) i'm sorry friend, you're wrong b) no really, you're wrong c) come over on a holiday and i'll prove it 

Better luck next time, wildcat.


Ratatat - Wildcat


 *We're never actually "sorry". In fact, we pray out loud that you once you go back to home you won't draw a one or a two card for, like, eight turns at least. In my family, we don't even call it the Game of SORRY! - we call it the Game of "Haha. Got you again...idiot." 

Friday, April 1, 2011

i'd like fries with that


Over drinks last night, I found out that my friend punched a bully in a coat closet when he was six. This bully's name? Ronald McDonald. Although this picture is not from last night, rest assured that my face looked the exact same upon hearing his McDavid and Goliath tale.

But really, if the hilarity of a bully named Ronald areyoukiddingme McDonald 
doesn't make your Friday, I don't know what will.

**Update: Just learned that Ronald had a mullet. Happy Weekending :)

Fort Christmas - Story Telling