A Few Weeks in Few Words

Since the last time I posted:

I bought these adorable shoes from Target that Brett said were "the cutest shoes ever."

 (He was maybe being sarcastic, but I'll take it.)

We finished our softball year 12-2 (technically we only lost one...we had to forfeit one) and won our league. I went 5-5 our final game of the season.

I started Jillian Michael's 30-Day Shred. Don't worry, there will be a novel-length blog post on that when I'm done.

I bought a fabulous antique steamer trunk to hold shoes and act like a bench in our front entry way. I love it.

Our little Breaking Bad club is getting closer to finishing all the seasons on Netflix. We've had a couple marathon Sundays filled with meth cooking and shootouts.

My co-ed sand volleyball team is terrible. It's a lot of fun, but we're not very good. However...I've managed to get a new winter co-ed team together, and I think we could be awesome. That makes me very excited.

I've met with almost all of my senior girls to catch up on their summers and lives. They are wonderful young ladies, and I'm so proud of the women these girls are becoming--and it makes me look forward to working with them during their final year at OCS.

Mostly, I'm just dreaming about leaving for vacation in a few days. Beautiful Up North Minnesota awaits me.

The Red Cross

I met a new friend yesterday while I was giving blood. I'm using the term "friend" very loosely here, as I already forgot his name and will probably never see him again. But we had a great few moments together.

He was the nurse that did all my registering--taking my temperature, blood pressure, pulse, weight, asking me my full name and birthday every five minutes to see if I'm cheating, and hemoglobin (for real, that finger poke literally hurts more than the giant needle sucking blood out of your arm. How is that possible!?).

There's always the small talk while they're entering in all this stuff and computing it, and he was really nice and funny. (Jesse? I think maybe his name was Jesse.) I asked about his watch, because it had a neon green face and black hands.

Me: "Do you really use that to tell time?"

Mike (maybe it was Mike): "Yes..."

Me: "How does that work? It doesn't have any numbers on it?"

Him: "Yeah, it took me like three days to learn how. It's still kind of a crap shoot whenever I look at it. See, I think it says..." glances at watch "3:40?" glances at clock on laptop screen "3:40! Boom."

Me: "Impressive!"

Him: "Except sometimes I get it on upside down and don't notice. Then it's basically impossible."

While we waited for the result of my hemoglobin test (and I tried to hide my obvious pain from the finger poke), he asked what I had been up to that day. I said just working, and he naturally asked where I work.

This next part, I am not proud of. In fact, it's maybe the dumbest thing I've ever said in my life to another human (that's probably not true at all, but it was definitely embarrassing).

Phil (Phil? maybe?): "Oh, where do you work?"

Me: "At a local nonprofit."

Him: smiles charmingly, "Me too."

Me, in the blondest moment of my existence: "Oh yeah? Which one?"

Rhett: pause, smiles, "...the Red Cross."

Giant facepalm.

A Midnight Adventure

One Saturday night in June, Brett and I were chilling in our basement (literally, it's the only place to cool off in our house in the summer. It can be 90* upstairs, but the basement is a chill 35). We were watching Parks and Recreation for about three or four straight hours. We had a last minute invitation to a friend's bonfire, but decided not to go. I wanted an adventure instead.

So we went on a walk, and ended up by the high school. For weeks, I'd been bugging Brett about wanting to flop around on the giant pole vaulting landing mat, because I imagined it a plush, heavenly cushion. But when I jumped up, it really wasn't that soft, and it was most definitely soaked with standing puddles of water. I bounced a few times and gave up. Big time disappointment.

We continued walking behind the bleachers at the football field, and I said, "I've never been on the field. We should go!"

So we wandered around until we found the opening in the fence and walked onto the field. Moments after we crossed the track into the grass, we heard sirens on a nearby side street. Convinced the cops were coming for us (we were probably acting more shady than our sinister plan to walk on the field really was, but people who live around the high school are pretty quick to call the cops on vandals...we didn't want to chance it). We ran to centerfield, snapped this quick photo, and bolted.

 

We sprinted down two side streets and then walked home--panting, sweating, and laughing. It was a good night.

Sunday Drive

I've been doing a lot of driving for work lately. I mean A LOT. Hitting both Plainview and Fairmont in the last two days means I've covered east to west most of southern Minnesota.

Many of these small towns I'm traveling to are only accessible by back roads--with names like Old Highway 60, or Vintage Highway 5. There are fields on either side--the five-foot sweet corn or the perfectly straight rows of beans.

I prefer these back roads to interstate driving. Occasionally, I'll pull over, fish out my camera and snap a few photos. But really, the entire trip is one long photoshoot in my mind. Every single peeling, faded red barn and double silo against the backdrop of corn fields, bright blue sky--with a perfect, wispy white clouds--it's cliche. Each one could be a painting. And each one is beautiful.

 My friends who have spent their entire lives in Minneapolis, or a suburb like Edina, don't quite understand that gravel roads are real things. And that you might be late because you're very likely to be stuck behind a tractor for a few miles.

After my work in Fairmont was done, I figured that since I was already on that side of the state, I would drop in and visit my grandpa and aunt in Butterfield. It was a surprise visit, but they were home--grandpa napping in his chair in the corner, Kay had just finished washing the windows. She offered me sparking water and cookies. Everything was right in the world.

I stayed for an hour and a half, caught up on the Butterfield City Council ongoing drama, and then made the trip back home.

Southern Minnesota is hardly a glamorous place to live, and I often complain about wanting to move somewhere warm (mostly in January and February), but on evenings when I'm driving, watching the sun dip behind a valley of farmland, I can't imagine a more beautiful place on earth.

Independence Day

On July 4, we made the short trek to Stillwater. This meant a day of browsing antique shops, eating at a local pub, and strolling the St. Croix riverfront.

At about 5 p.m., we staked out our fireworks spot. Then for the next five hours, we took turns making food runs and bathroom breaks. It was a calm evening, and I'm so glad I spent it with my best friend.

The fireworks were set to music--some pop, some country, some classic rock, and a finale of patriotic songs by the Trans Siberian Orchestra. It was phenomenal. 

 (I did not take this photo, but it is pretty much the exact view we had. Photo credit)

We made it home after a ridiculous hour sitting in traffic (approximately half an hour in a parking ramp, another half hour sitting at stop signs in Stillwater). Totally worth it.

 On Sunday, we celebrated this adorable THREE-YEAR-OLD'S birthday.

I cannot believe he is three already. It was a great night of friends, Thomas the Tank Engine, bubbles, and baggo.

 

 The ladies, including the birthday boy's baby sister. So cute!