belated birthday post.

Shots from Janna and Tyson's birthday party at the Boxcar Ale House. I'm not sure how I ended up closing down the bar singing Desperado with Josh, but it happened, and lets move on from it. Aside from the sorority bachelorette party taking over the place, the party was a total success.

pearls and granola.

I went to another flawlessly executed party at Caitlin's a few nights ago. The food is always inspiring and incredible and the space is totally chic. Invariably, I meet interesting and intelligent women and I leave with a new tidbit of information to take home or take on.
I attended a party at Caitlin's for the first time about a month ago and walked in wearing, in the words of a classic woman wishing she had something new or amazing for the occasion, the ugliest outfit. Meanwhile, there was a plethora of women not only looking amazing but who were either photographers or chefs or otherwise interesting things and I was nervous! Eventually I relaxed. I got over the outfit insecurity and had a ton of fun. Its funny the way you can MAKE YOURSELF feel. And totally unnecessary.

But in keeping with this fashionable rant, three point five years after moving here to the Pacific Northwest, I've been thrown a little into identity crisis. I'm an extremely active person. I love to sweat and I love to push myself physically. I enjoy spending time outside hiking and camping, sleeping in a tent and sitting around a campfire with a marshmallow at the end of my stick. And I love the mountains. But hell, I enjoy feeling feminine, fetching, even pretty sometimes: curling my hair, wearing heels and ya know, the right necklace and shit. Living in Seattle has definitely surfaced my inner granola. And for a bit too long I may say. I used to be so girlie and though I'm happy to let some of that go, its been fun to get dressed up for aforementioned events such as Caitlin's. They remind me that I am in fact, a lady underneath my fleece and scarves.

Mimosas.

In the sunshine. On my rooftop. On the West Coast. On a birthday. With handlebars made of facial hair and everything.

overexposure.

Big Two Six.

Happy Birthday, my sweetheart. I don't love the handlebar mustache. But I love you. Mucho.

Mt. Baker.

Well, the annual ski/snowboarding trip was great, but not without a few hiccups. Note to self, PRINT THE CONFIRMATION EMAIL. With only a few miles to go and no cell service to contact the other vehicles containing friends ready to unload into a cabin and put back a few beers, I could not get into the little box containing our cabin keys. After hours. No one to call. No cell service to call with. A code. A code. Where was the code!? Tears. Calming words from boyfriend, Tyson to which I quickly barked at. Sorry, hon. Eventually, after driving around in the middle of nowhere, Claudia's laptop picked up a faint, one bar wireless signal and a backtracking trip to Bellingham oh, 25 minutes away, was narrowly avoided.

That night we stayed up uncharacteristically late. Usually Friday is tame and the big party is reserved for apres ski and Saturday night celebration. But at 3:30am when we were still playing Jenga I knew it was going to be a rough morning. The early risers left a note for the second group. Meet us at 1pm. We'll wait fifteen minutes. After a great morning of riding, we waiting until 1:15 and made the executive decision that the second group hadn't gotten up for skiing and decided to relax instead. Whoops, they made it to the meeting spot at 1:20. We didn't ski with them. Bummer! But still a great day and great snow. That night we were exhausted. We fought through yawns and played game after game but the usually late Saturday night retired around midnight.

Some of us boarded on Sunday and some headed back to the city. I always marvel at the cabin and the spillage of people, bags, boards, food that happens upon arrival and then only a few days later when the last person walks out with the keys its returned to exactly how it was. Nothing left.

Games. Jenga. Apples to Apples.





Donettes. Wax donuts. Waxies. A staple on any camping trip. Or really any trip.


Claude and I:


And of course, snowboarding:





This last one was taken inside the tiny mountain cafe among the brownies, Special K bars.

snapped up.

I've been wanting to participate in the RSVP since last summer - Ride Seattle to Vancouver & Party: A 183 mile bicycle ride of scenic Pacific Northwest back roads. You start on Friday in Seattle at Warren G. Magnuson Park and finish in downtown Vancouver, Canada on Saturday; the finish line festival includes a no-host bar and music. Registration for the general public starts on February 1, but the Cascade Bicycle Club members are able to register early on January 1. The event sold out in six days. SIX. Ugh.

In other news, I've purchased the Lomo Diana camera:

I'm anxious to get my hands on it and see what odd images with questionable results I can snap. I'm excited to wait impatiently to see the photos while they're getting developed and not uploaded through a USB cord.

Of course I will likely use a scanner and turn Diana photos into digital images.

Its Friday night and I am sipping wine and sewing. I was called a grandma because of this. Well then, a happy, little Grandma I am.

Alpental Inspiration.

Eleven of us head to Mt. Baker tomorrow for a weekend of boarding/skiing, hot tubbin', sipping, and relaxing in a cabin. Hopefully this video taken last weekend at Alpental, edited by Tyson G, will provide inspiration for all of our "shredding" dreams.

Holiday connections.

A typical trip home for me is like organized chaos. An already planned five or six lunch dates, dinners and coffee chats always turns into a nineteen-or-so threaded together web of engagements. Planning is an art and I never seem to fit it all in, leaving Minneapolis with a few "Crap!, I should've called so-and-so." moments. A random sampling:


Dinner with my CSB girls. Treasured girlfriends for life. A champagne toast and many bottles of wine at Zelo. Then a few blocks down Nicollet to the Local with the old crew from 3233 Hennepin Avenue South - our first apt. after college. And as we'd done so many nights before, we closed'er down. After eleven years, different but also the same, our friendships are very, very strong.


Old school High School buddies. Its been nearly 9 years since I've seen these guys and I laughed just as hard as I did back in the day.


A trip in the car to New Ulm with Jora and Kes.

We visited a psychic and I am as big a skeptic having "experienced" it as I was envisioning how much I wouldn't believe her. But she was a very nice lady. And hopefully she won't turn the spirits on to me as revenge for my skepticism. Regardless the two-or-so hours in the car each direction proved fruitful for countless topics of conversation. We've never had a problem chatting. For twenty years we've chatted

My roommate Doreen circa 2004 from Humboldt Avenue South.

I knew I liked her when I discovered she biked to work one day. We'd spoken maybe ten words when we decided to sign up for the Mpls. marathon together. Then roommates. Now she lives in NYC and though I couldn't possibly live further from her in the U.S., she's been here to visit twice and we connect over the phone like sisters. I'm still holding out hope that she may make her way West sometime in the future.



Dinner and a whole bottle of wine to myself with Crow. She's got a bun in the oven so whoops, I indulged. Haley joined us and an evening that was supposed to end somewhat early went on for hours. I eventually sent myself back in time calling my parents to tell them I wasn't going to be home later. I was sleeping at a friend's.




Babysitting my sweetie sweetheart nephew, Matthew, who I love dearly and miss so much. I laughed so hard that day. Puzzles, drawing, movies, changing his outfit ten times, singing songs and of course make-believe basketball. Matthew made a six-pointer. Ha.



And my mother's 59th birthday.

She is a fantastic woman and someone I truly admire for all of her spunk and spirit. Countless times I laugh at her adorable little quips. Oh Debbie.

The fam braved the roads for some crazy stir-fry dinner. Then Jora and I popped in to have a brew with my brothers and went back to my parents' to sit and talk several hours into the night with them. I love you, 'rents!