The Sixty Degree Sunday Currently

Sixty degrees might not mean anything to a lot of you. In Louisiana, 60 degrees meant it was time to bust out the boots and scarves. But, here, 60 degrees is everything. The bike trails are packed with smiling people and panting dogs. Patios open. Windows roll down. The first day Minneapolis hits 60 is basically the best day of the year. 

C  U  R  R  E  N  T  L  Y  .  .  .  

R E A D I N G 

I just finished one book of travel essays (The Best American Travel Writing of 2011) and started another last night (The Conde Nast Book of Unforgettable Journeys). Clearly the latter wins for more compelling title. I’ll tell you more about them later. 


Dare I say that I think I might have gotten my blogging groove back? I have pages and pages of scribbled ideas. Here’s W I S H I N G & H O P I N G that it sticks!


Emma Louise. Foster the People. St. Paul and the Broken Bones. And the playlist to my Thursday hip hop class, over and over, as I dance around my house. 


Or rather, trying not to think about the endless to-do list I need to accomplish before we leave on our trip to Israel next month.

S M E L L I N G 

True life: our sink clogged this morning, and when the plumber unleashed whatever it was that was blocking the pipes, a wave of sewer breeze floated through the house. The various candles I’ve lit are making it smell like what I imagine an Anthropologie photo shoot at a trash dump must smell like.


Spring fever-y. I want to pack everything I love doing outside into this one warm day in case it never happens again. I recently discovered the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows (love it) and I think that this feeling needs to be added as an entry.

W E A R I N G 

Let’s talk about what I’m NOT wearing: a coat. gloves. a hat. I’m sitting on my back porch without any of these things. I really don’t hate winter, but this time of year — waiting for that first day of spring — is so fun. It’s like being a little kid and desperately counting the number of sleeps until your birthday… except that in this case, your birthday lasts four months. 

L O V I  N G 

The burst of creative inspiration that hit me on Friday.
W A N T I N G 

Ice cream. Particularly soft serve in a cone. Y is just finishing a rotation of night shifts — in his zombie-like state, maybe I can convince him to bike to one of the five ice cream options in our neighborhood. (Seriously. Five. It’s dangerous.)

Did I mention I’m basically flying across the world soon and haven’t planned, um, anything? 


high calorie weekend lessons

01. My food choices this weekend were probably not the healthiest per se, but when life hands you donuts and pie and cookies every once in awhile… you go with it.

02. Purim, a Jewish celebratory holiday that involves dressing up and drinking and making cookies called hamentaschen, is my new favorite holiday. For someone who hates small talk and is awkward around new people, putting on a werewolf mask is the perfect solution. For someone who likes cookies, well… cookies. 

03. I got some labs back this weekend, and I’m proud to announce that I apparently have the highest HDL levels that Y has ever seen. That’s good cholesterol. These labs were taken before donutcookiepie-fest 2014.

04. This happened this weekend, too. I should really start a healthy living blog.

05. You can have brunch on a rooftop when it’s 20 degrees outside: just make sure the rooftop has a retractable roof. This downtown restaurant is trendy to a fault, but we had a great time eating at the bar and listening to… the DJ. I’m sorry, do you patronize restaurants WITHOUT DJS? Preposterous. 

06. Lest you think I’m an insufferable, vapid twenty-something that does nothing more than brunch, eat baked goods, party in a wolf mask, and use the word “brunch” as a verb, I’ll have you know that we also visited the Matisse exhibit at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. I really loved it, in that way that makes me want to go back again, then read everything ever written about Matisse, try to paint something, then spiral into a deep depression about my lack of artistic talent. 

07. The Cosmos, while fascinating, puts me on the verge of a panic attack. 

Ike lately (2014.1)

One Saturday, I was intently typing on my computer when I heard a noise. I looked up and saw this.  Apparently the noise I had heard was a chorus of angels.


“Um,” Y said as we arrived home from dinner, “Why is your high school diploma on the floor?” I hadn’t seen my high school diploma in years. My first thought: weirdest home burglary ever? Nope – just another case of my dog ate my diploma. Y’s too. How Ike realized he needed to eat them in a pair, I’ll never know. 


Usually when we leave the house, I say one of two things to Ike: Have a stinky day or the more practical No parties. This night, we came home to find that he clearly had not listened to the latter.


Proof that this dog will snuggle with anything he finds on the floor (if he deems it inedible). On a related note, when we first moved here Y was disappointed to learn that the haircut chain Great Clips was not, in fact, an entire store full of bag clips.


I thought Ike was chewing on a bone, but when I got a little closer I realized, nope, it was a wine cork. Turns out our dog might be a bit of an oenophile. (Please take a moment to appreciate that I spelled that right on the first try.)

I felt like I needed to show the world my amazing new sweatshirt, but Ike had other plans.

When Y was working nights (and sleeping days), Ike just didn’t understand why he wouldn’t wake up and play with him.

Dear bloggers, shut up.

Dear bloggers,

I hear this from you week after week:

I’m so glad it’s FINALLY Friday. 

And then at the beginning of every month, you’re all:

Gee, how is it already March? This year is just flying by.

Not only does this irritate me because it’s so cliche (and why are you writing if you have nothing original to say?), it irritates me because we’re all wishing our lives away and it makes me sad.

There’s scientific evidence that life seems to move faster as you get older. I think it has to do with the fact that as adults, we’re constantly planning for the future. 

What are we doing next weekend? 
I can’t wait for spring. 
Save the date for this wedding in July.
Justin Timberlake tickets just went one sale. What are you doing 10 months from now?
Let’s talk about the 2015 fiscal year. 

When those dates roll around, we’re already mentally there.

I feel it every night, as I climb under my covers. As Ike jumps on the bed after me and turns in a circle 23 times, I think, huh, I feel like I was just here this morning waking up. And then Ike sits on my head with a giant sigh like he feels it too.

Recently, my nightly realization has started scaring me. Where did the day go?  So, even when I’m having The Worst Day Ever, or am bored out of my mind, or am sitting in a dentist’s chair and my ears are ringing as the hygienist essentially scratches her fingernails on the chalkboard of my mouth, I never ever ever wish for it to be over. I know from experience that one day this time and place will be long gone and I’ll be nostalgic for it (Case in point: I kind of miss studying for college exams. I am an incredibly fun person).

Since I started this post by calling bloggers out for being unoriginal, I’ll now take a moment to post a quote so original that no one has ever, in the history of the world, thought of using it on a blog or pinning it on Pinterest.

best picture

One of the things I love about the Twin Cities is that every neighborhood has its own little theater. The kind without stadium seating or 3D. The kind where, if you come straight from dinner, they’ll hold your leftovers in their refrigerator in the back.

Have you ever wondered what a movie theater adjacent to a Lush might smell like? It’s the strangest thing — waxy, fruity, perfume-y popcorn. At the same time disgusting yet kind of intoxicating.

This winter, my friend and I arbitrarily gave ourselves a goal of seeing all of the Best Picture nominees, so I spent a lot of time in that soapy popcorn haven. It was a silly goal, maybe, but I’m glad I did it. Instead of remembering January and February as months of sitting around groaning about the weather, I’ll remember sitting at the mozarella bar across the street from the theater, sipping a cocktail as fast as I could to to avoid being late for Dallas Buyers Club. I’ll remember sitting in teary silence for five solid minutes at the end of 12 Years a Slave. I’ll remember racing across town after Philomena to catch the next showing of Her

I think this winter will always conjure up memories of popcorn scented soap.

Here are my very important thoughts on the movies. The Academy has been e-mailing me for weeks asking for these.

Dallas Buyers Club: This was the first movie I saw, and I didn’t think the movies could get any better. The acting awards for Matthew McConaughey and Jared Leto were absolutely deserved. It’s hard to remember that MM once was an advertising exec telling people to frost themselves. (Disclaimer: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is my favorite guilty pleasure romantic comedy)

12 Years a Slave: I’m not exaggerating when I say the audience sat in silence for five full minutes as the credits rolled. I don’t know about everyone else, but I was sobbing. This movie was so important, and so well done. It was my pick for Best Picture for sure.

American Hustle: So. Y and I both fell asleep during American Hustle. It wasn’t that it was bad… I just wasn’t into it. I was awake to see Bradley Cooper in teeny rollers though, so that’s important.

Wolf of Wall Street: I went back and forth – was this movie so fun or so depressing? Both, I guess. It takes a lot of acting chops to play such terrible, terrible people. 

Gravity: I made a huge mistake: I didn’t see this one in the theater. I appreciate how difficult it must be to act by yourself in fake space, but I missed the thrill you probably got from seeing it on the big screen.

Philomena: I don’t use this word often, but Dame Judi Dench was basically delightful in Philomena. I really enjoyed this movie — the story behind it was so interesting and I read article after article afterward — but I though parts were oversimplified so the whole story didn’t feel all that plausible. 

Her: I didn’t necessarily think it should win Best Picture, but Her was my favorite of the movies. The colors! The music! The technology! The story isn’t as sad as I expected it to be from the previews, which was a nice change of pace from the rest of the nominees. I almost fell in love with Samantha, too. I at least wanted her to be my best friend. Also Spike Jonze is cute, and, like Bradley Cooper in rollers, that’s obviously important. 

Nebraska: I can’t stop thinking about Nebraska, and thinking about Nebraska makes me want to cry. In fact, as my friend pointed out, anytime anyone said the word “Nebraska” during the Oscars, or when the camera panned over Bruce Dern, I had a pained expression and made a pathetic sad sound. Nebraska was simple and no one really talked about it, but it hit me hard and I really, really liked it.