I'm Baaaaaaaaaaack

With a vengence?  Probably not.  By popular demand?  Decidedly no.  From the grave?  Not that I'm aware of.

All I know is that yesterday I woke up in the best mood I've been in in practically a year, and about a week ago I took a picture I'm really proud of, and I wanted to share it.

And there are others to come.

That is all.

Firsts For Everything

It's so strange to have firsts again.  After five years together you tend to get pretty used to somebody and when that includes 4+ years of living together, moving together a couple of times and planning a wedding together... you maybe start to think all your firsts are gone.

All you people who have been married for decades can just quit your damn laughing right now, I'm trying to be sincere over here.

Seriously though - we had our first kiss before we started dating (whoops.)  Our first date was so long ago we don't always agree on what movie we saw anymore (Fracture.)  We moved in together... four and a half years ago.  We got over the whole 'we have bodily functions' thing quite a while ago.  We've moved together... four times now?  There are a lot of great things about knowing someone that well.  You have jokes that only two people in the world get.  You can have pretend fights over a car arm rest and know what it means.  You have a nook to fall asleep in.  You can be called Puddles and not find it offensive.  You can listen to the man you love tell you that he's going to go drop a deuce and really not even flinch at it.  You can exist in the knowledge that he's going to be so pissed at you for writing that sentence on your blog.  But that he'll get over it.  (Right, hunny?)  You can know that buying a new couch is probably going to involve sitting on every couch in the metro area.  You can rest assured that unless you find something totally awesome and/or funny - you'll never have to have anything heart-shaped in your house.  You can really make the other person super angry in no time flat on purpose.  Just a few well placed words, a couple of dishes here and there, hell a towel left in the right place and you can have your partner fuming.  And sometimes you want that.  It's super fucking weird - but you do.  You want to pick a fight.  And you don't want to pick it with anyone else.  You've come to the bizarre decision that having a huge fight with the person you live with, the person you love, the person who means the world to you, that you cannot live without; is the best possible decision you can make at the time.  Truly it probably is the best decision you can make because you also know how to make them forgive you in no time flat.  With a word, a look, flowers bought for the first time in years, a note left in just the right place.  With that special kind of torture that only redheads know how to do.

Knowing someone well enough to marry them has it's perks, it really does.  Well beyond joint taxes and lower car insurance rates.

And yet... My husband and I went on our first walk as a married couple the other day.  We held hands and walked down the street to the park by our house.

We pointed at puppies and pretty flowers together.

We stopped as I took pictures.

We hip checked each other as we walked down the path in the woods.

We made fun of one another.  Because we're both dorks, and really like pointing that out to one another.

We've probably gone on a thousand walks together.  We've done all those things before.  We've probably spent weeks of our lives holding hands.  We now have a running count (if you knew how I mistyped that, you'd be laughing) of who has pointed out more trains to the other, let alone the most puppies or flowers.  He is a man who has probably lost count of the number of hobbies he tolerates in me, thus I doubt he hardly notices stopping for pictures anymore.  And to try to even describe how used we are to making fun of one another is just impossible.  I can't separate it from our normal conversations, from our day-to-day interactions, from our passing one another while we're getting dressed in the morning.  It is so ingrained into our relationship that it would be weird if he weren't making fun of me.

But this walk, this one in one thousand, this was special.  Because I can't help but know that it's the first time that we took a walk as husband and wife.  For as little as that dumb, pointless piece of paper means to us at the end of the day it's still this giant deal.  He still has to do a tremendous amount of paperwork if he wants to leave me now.  I still can't help but notice that holding his hand feels a little different with a wedding ring on it.  And I can't help but want to walk on his left side - so that I can notice it.  I can't help but look at him and know that we'll go on thousands and thousands of more walks and he'll hold my hand.  And we'll stop as I take pictures, and we'll point out puppies and pretty flowers (and trains) to one another.  And we'll hip check each other as we walk in the woods or along the sidewalk.  And we'll make fun of each other.  Because we're giant dorks.  And we really like pointing that out to one another.

And for all those thousands and thousands of times he'll be my husband.  That sentence makes me happier than I can say.  It warms my grinchy heart and all those good things.  But this walk was special.  It was like a first date, really.  Only better.  Because I know all those other things already.  Like where my nook is, and how to make him angry, and that Puddles is actually very cute, and that we both poo and that's okay, and that redheads are the best (obviously), and what movie we saw on our first date, and that we're going to have to sit on all of them before we buy a couch.  He's my Steve.  And that's greatest.

But just after that is that we just got married.  So we do still have a few good firsts left in us yet.

Picture Me Rollin'

In roughly four hours I'm leaving to go participate in the MS 150.  Which means today I will be riding a bus to a small town just outside of Duluth, MN, tomorrow I will wake up, get on a bike and ride 75 miles to Hinkley, MN.  Then on Sunday I will get up again, get on a bike, and ride another 75 miles to White Bear Lake.

Or that's the plan anyway.  I would say the odds are pretty good through the end of Saturday.  The whole getting up again on Sunday thing, I think that's where I'm going to run into problems.

Oh right, and the biking part.  That's... that's going to be a challenge.

Up until a few weeks ago I had not been on a bike since I was 15 years old.  I haven't really participated in regular physical activity since I was... 13.  I am not an athletic person.  I don't enjoy sweat.  I like reading.  And knitting.  And movies.  Things I can sit still for I'm just really, really good at.

So deciding I'm going to ride a bike for one hundred and fifty miles in a weekend is probably the dumbest thing I've ever done in my whole life.  And let me tell you, that is beating out some just really, really poor decisions.

I can honestly say that training for this has been the hardest thing I've ever done.  I can also say that in like 72 hours that will no longer be true.  I have wanted to quit.  Every single day.  Somewhere in the middle of the ride, every time I got on my bike something in my head has gone "you know this is ridiculous.  Just give up already."  The good news is I haven't listened to that voice.  I have not given up, I have kept going.  I have kept training and today I'm getting on a bus and I'm going to try my damnedest to do this thing.  I am proud of myself for that.

I'm not going to lie - I am scared.  I really have very little belief that I will actually finish.  And I am - illogically - worried that if I don't finish I will be letting people, and myself, down.  I know that that's not true.  And I am trying really hard to keep telling myself that, and to believe that.  I know that a lot of people are proud of me for just making it this far, and nothing will change that.  Still.  I am scared.

I WANT to finish and I'm going to work really, really hard to finish.  But if I can't I'm going to stop and be safe and be fine with that reality.

Now... the sarcastic brat in me wants to make fun of myself for a little bit and... well, I do sort of like the sarcastic brat in me so I'm going to go with that.  There's a solid chance that I will actually die trying to do this this weekend so if you want any of my stuff, now's probably a good time to call dibs.  Okay.  I got that out.  feels better now.

Here are some pictures I've taken while out biking the last couple weeks.  Enjoy.

Ir... Irises... Irie... screw it - Many an Iris growing on the St. Kate's campus

The Gateway Trail.  From this vantage point 35E is about 30 feet to the right.  You'd never know it.

Down by St. Anthony Falls

Smoke stacks that I thought looks pretty cool in Minneapolis

A random little lighthouse that I didn't know existed but thought was cool anyway

 One of my favorite Twin Cities landmarks

 Bridges all lined up.  (you can see the Hennepin Ave bridge, 3rd Ave bridge and if you look REALLY close, the Stone Arch bridge in the distance.)

That's my city.

An Open Love Letter To My Mommy On Her Birthday

Once upon a time my big brother told me his main goal in life was to be even half as cool as my dad.  This is completely understandable.  My dad is pretty much the coolest person who ever lived.  (Still, this statement made me a little sad since my main goal in life is to be maybe one tenth as cool as my big brother.)  The great tragedy of my dad being the coolest person, living or dead, ever is that we sometimes overlook how completely and totally awesome my mom is.  Where my dad is the mellow that keeps us all truckin' (so to speak) as a family, my mom is... just everything else we need to keep us going along the way.  She is our cruise director, our teacher, our domestic goddess, our moral compass, our cultural attache, our historian, our cheerleader, and our support pillar.

Make no mistake, my dad does all of those things as well.  But I'm confident in saying he will be the first to tell you, my mom is one hell of a lady.  One who deserves any and every nice thing anyone has to say about her.

Let me paint a picture for you.

When I was just weeks old my mom took me to my first political convention.  She put signs up on my play pen and I lobbied for better day care.

There's this totally awesome picture of my brother when he was little.  He's wearing a tee shirt that says "nuclear war would totally ruin my day."

My brother and I used to tease my mom that we were going to buy her a leash for Mother's Day so we could stop her from going to nurseries (the flower kind) all the time.  Related:  my brother and I are kind of buttheads.

Every year on Christmas Eve my family watches Lethal Weapon.  This easily one of the top ten weirdest traditions I've ever heard of, and therefore one of the best.  It exists because of my mom.

I love this:

And these:

This:

This:

And these:

because of my mom.

My mom will never let anyone say anything bad about themselves.  She will encourage you to be the very, absolute best that you can be.  She can bake at least 30 different kinds of cookies, occasionally will encourage you to have ice cream cake for dinner, and makes the best spaghetti ever.  She can sew, quilt, knit, and read (I'm guessing) one thousand words a minute.  She can make homemade Halloween costumes, design a set, manage a stage and play the violin and tympani (though probably not at the same time.)  She loves the Rolling Stones and taught me to love Janis Joplin and the Allman Brothers.  She also taught me to love Tchaikovsky, Handel, and musical theater.

My mom is a tooth and nail feminist who let me love Disney princesses.  She taught me that the princesses weren't just pretty - they are smart, kind, warm, occasionally head-strong, optimistic, and generous.

Last night I happened upon a clip from It Happened One Night.  Netflix failed me as they don't have it on their instant cue.  I decided to watch Arsenic and Old Lace instead.  When I was young, though I don't remember how old I was exactly, my mom took me with her to see a performance of the play.  I think it was at the local college.  Nothing major or anything, but a performance all the same.  But that's my mom, she always wanted to show us something cool.  I can certainly say that without her, I'm sure I wouldn't randomly decide to watch movies like that on Saturday nights.

I love my mommy very much.  And I don't think she gets told enough that she's freaking awesome.  Mom, you're freaking awesome.  Here are some pictures I think you'll like.

And if you do that's bully.  Just bully!  (Happy Birthday)

Fridays in the Park

Sooo... Remember the other day when I posted a picture of a unicyclist in Como Park and said it was pretty cool, but it was no monkey?  Yeah.  This is an effin' monkey!

His name is Michael and he is a monkey.  I assume, based on the shorts, that he plays basketball.

This is a monkey people!  In the park!  Totally random!  Monkey!

...And I took some other pictures too.  None of them are nearly as good as monkeys.

Daisy, Daisy

... Give me your answer do...

Steve picked a flower for me.

I'm going to go smile for awhile now :)

Fancy Camera

Somewhat randomly Steve had a very fancy camera in his possession for about 20 hours or so early this week. Some of those hours included our walk at Como Park on Monday so we took it along and I got to play a little bit.  Big fun.  Especially as there were just tons of puppies in the park that day.

If you look closely, there's a big ol' bumblebee on that flower.

 

There is a puppy hiding in those bushes!

Looking down at a bit of the man-made waterfall.

 

Some ivy or something growing on the rocks around the waterfall.

 

Some late afternoon light shining on this absolutely beautiful lily.

Look at how deep that red is.  Just gorgeous.

  

We always seem to see something completely random when we go to Como.  An unicyclist is no guy walking around with a full-grown monkey on his shoulder (oh how I wish I'd had my camera with me last week) but it's random enough for my tastes.

A very happy puppy.  I think I saw this dog "pulled over" about four different times so he could be pet by small children who were clearly in love with him.

 

A nice view of the lake.

 

A shot of a wild rose that was blooming a little way away from the bench where we were.

 

A cool looking plant that I was fascinated by a the time.

 

I liked the way the light was hitting the leaves on this tree.

 

An adorable little puppy that was very, very happy to see every single person that passed.

A cool lakeside house.

The actual waterfall (now that I've posted pictures of the stuff around the waterfall.)

This was such a pain in the butt.  It was still as can be until I decided I wanted to take this picture.  Then the wind started blowing like mad.  It figures.

 

Some cool sort-of back lit thistles.

 

An interesting collections of greens around the edges of the lake.  (Not shown: the disgusting, SMELLY scum/algae that's still covering a good portion of the lake.)

 

A nifty Birch tree.  I always try to take cool pictures of birch bark because I think it's super cool, the pictures usually turn out lame though.

 

Some very deeply veined bark.

This tree had some weird stuff hanging from its trunk.  It kind of looked like old clothes or something.  The sun was shining right on it so it was rather hard to tell.

 

Finally, a happy cloud!

Fun with a fancy camera!  Woo!