Where Have You Been?

Where the heck have you been?

I deactivated my facebook yesterday after deciding to take a break from it.  Could be one day, could be seven, could be forever.  I don't really know or care.  All I do know is that I miss it!  I thought I'd be fine without it because I literally go every weekend without touching it, but not using it during the week?  IT'S KILLING ME!  Not because I'm desperate to see those pictures of the person I haven't talked to in read life since the third grade.  Or because I miss whiney updates about life, or the opposite; the people who live seemingly idyllic lives with not a care or worry in the world. 

Nope. 

It's the constant flood of information that I miss.  It's only been 24 hours and I've found myself wanting to type countless status updates or message certain people.  No big deal.  The real freaky thing is that three time already I've found myself on the facebook login screen.  No idea how I got there.

It's strange to find that you do something on autopilot, without even thinking about it.  THAT is why I deactivated it.  Avoiding it is easy, unless I'm sat at a computer where it's always logged on.  All I have to do is click a button and I know that, "Roman is having an OK day, and bought a Coke Zero at the gas station. Raise the roof!"

"He got a coke zero again!? Oh, that Roman! Incorrigible!"

Bonus points if you know that movie.

I miss facebook not because I "need" it.  Not because I'm addicted to that little strange window into lives of friends and strangers.  I miss it because it's my go-to break from whatever else I'm doing.  And *that* is what this last 24 hours has shown me. 

Now, time to prepare for my super awesome weekend ahead.

Also, I'm addicted to Pretty Little Liars now. 

Really.

I need to not suck at updating this!

Things 26, 27, and 28

Did I totally forget to blog about meeting Hippie Tom??  I'm so behind!


26.  Meet a celebrity.

I met Hippie Tom from 'American Pickers'.  I can't believe that I didn't blog about that!  I may have to do a make-up post purely about that adventure.


27.  Enter a writing contest or sweepstakes.

I entered a 'Memory Contest' for a local restaurant.  I submitted my childhood memories of eating there and I WON!  I won a $100 gift certificate to that eatery!  Guess who didn't need to buy groceries that week?  hee hee hee


28.  Visit the Peshtigo Fire Site.

 

If you grew up in the Midwest chances are that you've at least heard of the Peshtigo Fire.  My friends and I learned all about it in school.  It was clear as the years passed though that the Peshtigo Fire was just a small murmur in the shadow of "The Great Chicago Fire".  And that's sad.

The Peshtigo fire occured on the same day as the fire in Chicago.  Odds are that you've probably heard of the Chicago fire and not the Peshtigo fire.  That's crazy to me.  Here are a few facts for you:

     -   The Chicago Fire killed about 250 people.

     -   The Peshtigo fire killed between 1,200 to 2,400 people.

     -   Extreme drought along with clearing of fields caused the fire in Peshtigo.  The death toll is untotalled and so broad because many undocumented people had just arrived in Peshtigo to help clear the land for the railroad.

     -   Within about an hour the entire city of Peshtigo (seen on the map below) was wiped out.  Winds of up to 150 miles per hour created a cyclone of fire and carried that fire quickly throughout the town.

     -   Chicago is more talked about simply because it's a big city and was at that time.  Peshtigo was a frontier settlement with only one telegraph line.  That line burned in the fire.

     -   The Peshtigo fire was put out naturally.  They were not prepared for a fire of that magnitude so it burned it's way to the waters of Green Bay.

     -   The survivors of the Peshtigo Fire were those who jumped into the river.  They spent the entire night in the icy waters as fire burned on every side of them.


Enough history for today.  All that to say that I was at my Family Reunion this weekend and passed the sign for Peshtigo.  I couldn't believe it.  I wasn't expecting to really get there this year - mostly because there is no way that I'd have a car that could make that trip!  I mean, I desperately need new tires so going out of the city I live in is a stretch for me most days. 

At the end of Reunion it was decided that we could make the 30 minute detour to the site; and I'm so glad that we did!  I got to cross another thing off the list.



Almost Back in the Saddle, Again

Gee, I've really fallen off the horse here; the Blogger horse!

I should probably get back to updating more often.

Excuse Me While I Attend AA

This Summer has murdered my hair.  I don't really even try to understand the ins and outs of the makeup of my hair but I do know it's dry.  When I wash it it feels like straw.  When I brush it I am in agony from knots.  What is a girl to do?

Several months ago I did the mayo-mask on my hair.  It worked like a champ. I also smelled like a deli sandwich for almost a week straight.

I was desperate for a deep conditioning that wouldn't leave my hair greasy.  I did what any normal person would do, I went down the list of home remedies and settled on "beering" (I just made that term up) my hair. 

Last night I cracked open the lonely bottle of Fat Tire that I had in the back of the fridge and I let it sit for an hour or so in order for it to go flat.  I drew myself a warm bath, got halfway through my latest read; The War of Art before washing my hair and prepping for the beer.  Midway through my soak I laughed out loud while sipping my glass of moscato; who sips wine before pouring beer in their hair?  The thought of the scents coming from my body, coupled with the week long mayo smell last time, convinced me that tomorrow my co-workers would be staging an alcohol intervention for me.

Back to the task at hand: beer is so gross to me.  You may remember my dislike of it from earlier posts.  Just the scent of it last night almost made me gag. 

After washing and rinsing my hair I poured an entire bottle of beer over my head and soaked and massaged it through my hair while waiting for the tub to drain.  It honestly didn't smell during this process.  Thank GOD!

A few moments later I rinsed it out and was ready for the results.

MY HAIR WAS SUPER SOFT!!!!!!  It brushed so easily.  Beer actually worked!

Weird.

Things 22, 23, 24 and 25

I am so behind!!!!


Road trip to "small town" USA

A group of friends and I drove to Waterford, WI, where we met and spent the day with Hippie Tom from American Pickers.  We spent the afternoon "picking" for treasures on Tom's huge property.  I left with a thrown pottery vase, a horseshoe, and paper mache cat head.  Oh yeah, baby!

Make 3 new friends.

That's just weird to write about, and I'm not going to identify them in a blog, but I have made three new lovely friends in life already this year.  And for that I am grateful.

Create an artistic journal

For a few weeks now I have maintained a "sketch a day" journal.  It's been difficult, annoying, fun, and rewarding.  It's incredible how much even just a scribbled doodle, when looked back on, can remind me of everything that I was thinking, feeling, and going through that day!

Get a pedicure with a friend.

My sissy and I got our toes done together last weekend!  I didn't even realize it was a "thing" till today!  Yay!


Sorry for the shortness, but it's either this or stay behind in my blogging!  This is all you get for now.

I miss you guys though!!!

Love, h

How YOU doin'?

I like to think of myself as somewhat of a hippie.  Maybe that's because I grew up on Vietnam War music from Peter, Paul, and Mary.  Or maybe it's because my family was too poor to buy more than one Cabbage Patch Kid, so we got the less popular Flower Patch Kids.

Don't worry, I had a real Cabbage Patch Kid, she was a baby with only a tiny tuft of yarn-like hair.  Her name was Jessica.  But Flower Patch Kids, I had two.  Oh yes, two.  Opie and Kelly.  They were awesome.  We also had the Flower Patch Kid pets, I think.  In my memory they were just like the "kids" only they had ears and a tail. 

I hope that's a real memory and I didn't just make that up.  Sounds like something someone on drugs would say.  I assure you, that is not the case.  I have never tried drugs, nor am I on any at this moment in time.  Girl Scouts honor.  *raises hand in the air*

Anyway, I'm sort of a hippie.  I like growing things.  My joy is making things and caring for my home.  I'm a free spirit. But I do wear deoderant.

Hippie took a whole new meaning today when I was sitting at my desk and my bra broke.

For some reason "break on through to the other side" started blasted through my brain as panic set in.  See, I work with all men.  How the heck do you say "Excuse me, my bra just broke, I have to leave for a minute." 

Answer:  you don't.  It would be just as awkward as saying "Hey, I'm surfing the crimson wave this week guys.  Anyone have any extra tampons in their desk?"

A quick trip to Walmart, with an even quicker selection of a replacement bra, and I was on my way back to work before anyone even knew I'd left.

Only me.

Thing 21 -

 Run a 5k.

I'd love to stay, but I really mustache.

Boom!  Done.

Smack in the middle of my stress filled and busy weekend, I did a 5k.  At four stations throughout the "run" there were people set up to throw powdered color at you.  Fear not, it was basically corn starch, it was easy to dust off; other than the bit that is still stained onto my forehead.  So that's awesome.  I look like I have an extra set of red "joker" eyebrows.  I wear them well.  Through out the race we were hit with yellow, then green, then pink, then purple powders, all ending with the color fest at the end.  What's the "color fest" you may wonder?  Every racer was given their own packet of color: blues, reds, oranges, you name it.  At the end of the race every 15 minutes they would count down and everyone would chuck their colors up into the air.  It was, just as they dubbed it, "the happiest 5k on the planet"!

Beautiful Blogger

After having a pretty rough start to this week, I was entirely too happy to find out that I'd received the "Beautiful Blogger Award" from a fellow writer; the Literary_Lily_Cate ! 

I feel like I should not only thank her but thank all the Little People as well.  Sadly, I don't remember their names, but I *do* know that they live in the heating ducts of our houses.  I suppose I could thank Thumbelina, the Smurfs, and those little Lego people... 

It appears that it is now my turn to dish out 7 facts about myself and award 7 new peeps the same honor of which was bestowed upon me!  Here goes!

1. I've never smoked a cigarette in my life.  Cigars, yes.  Cigarettes, no.

2. I have never owned a "new" car.  I probably never will either, and I'm fine with that.

3. The amount of times I was almost kidnapped, was pursued by men (with intent of marriage), was a bridesmaid in weddings, and spoke at funerals are all just about even in number. I think the last wedding I was in, however, bumped "Bridesmaid" up to the Number 1 spot though, at a total of four weddings. 

4. I always dreamed of having 8 children.

5. I've driven a train.  Yes, you read that right, I drove it.

6. I have never been in love.  Incredibly sad, yes, but absolutely true.

7. I met Chris Farley on my 17th birthday while in Chicago, IL.  It was one of the best days of my life.


And now it's time to pass on the award and to let you guys check out some new blogs!

Congrats goes out to:

Alesa

BeeKay

Mutzie

Allison

Bethany

Elizabeth

Sarah

Happy blogging!

Thing 20

Try a new local hot spot.

I live in what, at one point, was known as a small town.  It's over 100,000 people now so I think "small town" is a far cry from what we've now become.  Having said that, an Irish Pub opened up in my town several years ago.  It's possible that from previous posts you may recall that I'm part Irish, and am very proud of this fact.  It's a travesty that years have passed and I've never stopped in.

A few weekends ago two of my amigos, which along with me make up the "Grewenow Summit", were in town for a Saturday evening.  Through messages and back-and-forth whittling through a list of eatery options, we ended up at this Irish Pub.

Have I mention how incredibly odd it was that I'd never stopped in prior to this???  The place was hopping with life.  There was a party in the back with this little girl dressed like a bride - still don't fully get what that was about.  The bar was peppered with mid-twenties to late-thirties, while tables that filled the rest of the place were being used by everyone from babies to Grandparents.  There even was a moment of running in to good friends who were also enjoying the atmosphere at a table of their own.  It was the "place to be", it seemed.

Of course I have no pictures because it wasn't until a day or so later that I realized I'd done a "thing"!   But rest assured, I'm sold.  All of us were well satisfied with our meals and drinks.  My pot roast was a thing of beauty; dripping in gravy and line with potatoes and asparagus decorating the edge of my plate.  Washed down with a nice cold pear cider.

Yum.

I am so hungry right now.

Thing 19

Go to a movie alone.  Order popcorn and soda.

Done and done.

I'm one of those rare people who actually enjoys sitting through films all by my lonesome; this challenge was easy for me.  What was NOT easy for me was spending ungodly amounts of money on a medium drink and a junior popcorn!

The movie I saw was "The Lucky One".  Gag me, right?  I'm a lover of romantic movies, typically NOT those of Nicholas Sparks, however, I gave this one a try.  And you know what?  I didn't hate it.

Success.

I'd post a picture of my ticket stub, but I lost it.  I could only find my stub from the re-release of Casablanca on the big screen, which I attended two weeks ago.  Now that is a great flick!

Thing 18

Spend too much money on something you can't really afford but think is fabulous!

The blog world and I have been a little distant lately so now I'm forced to play a bit of catch-up.

Like 70% of Americans, I'm currently living paycheck to paycheck.  It appears to be my lot in life, so I don't complain about it, I just live with it!  I've never been on a "vacation" as most people would view them; as my trips are typically to visit family or friends, not laying on a beach somewhere exotic and beautiful.  So when I looked at my year on the calendar and saw that the only "big" thing I had planned was my family reunion, I needed to spend money I didn't have on something that I'd love.  Something I'd really look forward to.

So I did.

I scrounged and saved, and honestly didn't buy groceries for two weeks, in order to by myself the limited edition Kandee Johnson bag.  It's something I loved.  It's something I wanted.  It's something that took me over a month to GET! 

It was worth it.  I am now the proud owner of this very rare bag.

THIS is the highlight of my year!

THIS is my fabulous thing.  My sister hates it.  I adore it.

Not A Fan

Maybe I'm not a fan of change. 
Perhaps it's just me.
Either way, I'm not convinced that I like (or dislike) this new blogger layout stuff.

We'll see.

I'm tired today.
I had McDonalds for lunch and am once again too tired to go grocery shopping in order to *make* something for dinner.  That, my Friends, is what is called LAZY.

Happy Lazy Monday!

Thing 17

Get a tattoo

Tattoos have always intrigued me. I never thought I'd actually get one, though. When my Mom passed away a few years ago I designed a tattoo that I would one day get. I still haven't gotten it.

In 2010 I visited my favorite tattoo artist's shop. I was like a kid in a candy store. I bought things, I sat on a couch made from a coffin, I stood inches away from people who were laying there getting tattooed, and I snapped a lot of pictures. It was the highlight of my road trip to California.

(This is me standing outside of High Voltage Tattoos, a.k.a. L.A. Ink in Hollywood, California)

Due to time crunches, my sister and I were unable to schedule tattoos. It was bittersweet.

Almost 2 years have passed since that road trip and the desire for a significant tattoo has not wained. And so, after loads of planning, searching, scribbling, and asking opinions, last night I finally went and got inked.

The reason tattoos captivate me is simply because I feel like each one can have such a story to tell. Sure there is the random person at the Fair who regrets that Tweety tattoo they got when they were 17, but overall I find that most of my friends who have tattoos have deep and powerful stories behind them; THAT is what I love.

My ink is near and very dear to my heart for so many reasons; many of which I will not pour out on the Internet for the world to know. Not now anyway. But in the end I chose a word that sums up my life. It sums up my relationship with God. And dearest of all...it's in my Mom's handwriting. I searched high and low to find this word written by her, and eventually there it was, nestled among pages of memories that she'd written me many years ago.

Everyday I can look at my arm and remember that I must walk by faith, that life on earth is temporary, but it's lived by FAITH! And everyday I get to see the writing of my Mom's; so unique, so beautiful, and so incredibly dear to my heart.

My tattoo isn't for the world to see, it's for me.

I love it.

Thing 16

Send a confession to Post Secrets.

To quote the wisest resource ever, Wikipedia, “PostSecret is an ongoing community mail art project, created by Frank Warren, in which people mail their secrets anonymously on a homemade postcard. Select secrets are then posted on the PostSecret website, or used for PostSecret's books or museum exhibits.”

I’ve followed this ongoing project for many years and even own one or two of their books.  I love it.  I think it’s a brilliant way of getting to the core of people.  I’ll admit, some of them disgust me, but at the same time some of them tug at my heart.  That’s part of it’s beauty, it’s messy, like life.

Tomorrow the mailman will take away 6 postcards I have created, along with the secrets or confessions I’ve attached, and they will make their way to Maryland.  Who knows who will see them, where they will stop along the way, or what will eventually happen to them.  What I do know is that I’ve done it.  I’ve exposed the depths of my soul on paper and sent it via snail mail to anyone who may find it.

Weird.

If you'd like to check out their website click here. 

(Be warned that it can be graphic or offensive at times.  Not all the time, but sometimes.)

Firsts...

I love the innocence of "firsts". First kisses... first crushes... first dates.  It doesn't matter how old you are, there's just something about them that brings you back to being really young. At least, that's what it does to me; back to the pre-teen days. Even chatting with my girl friends when they come home from dates is exciting to me. Times have changed, but first dates always make me feel romantically pulled back to the days of black and white movies, kisses at the drive-in, sweaty hands and all. Things I've never had but I highly romanticize in my mind.

This blogger is a sucker for romance. I won't lie. Give me a cheesy love story or a romantic comedy and I'm happy, within reason of course. That's why I fall so hard for Television shows where I relate to the girl who wants the guy but never really gets the guy. Or, if she does, it's fleeting. Welcome to my life. I'm just an Angela Chase pining over a Jordan Catalano that I'll never quite have...

That's a My So Called Life reference in case you missed it.

 

I am a hopeless romantic; one that knows that relationships take work and commitment.  I’m the girl who’s seen the worst in love and has set high standards for myself so that I will, hopefully, never have to “go there”.  As a result, I’m single, and perhaps doomed with it.

Even though I’m well out of the running for dating and marriage these days, I still daydream about it…

“And then, just like that they were kissing. She didn't know how they got there. She had no idea. The thought of kissing this boy hadn't crossed her mind in years, which was weird, because once upon a time, that was all she ever thought about. And then, just like that, it was over. He coughed, she shuffled her feet... And she laughed to herself. It had been one of those moments, one of those moments where you shuck your status as mere mortal and achieve, however briefly, true greatness. She had shared many such moments with this boy, but now he was leaving and... Nothing would ever be the same again.”

I suppose that’s what shows like Dawson’s Creek are for; hopeless romantics who like to look back on the days when life seemed like complicated mess of teenaged angst, hormones and awkwardness, but in reality…it was beautiful.  Messy, but beautiful just the same.

Gone are the days and nights of walking to the basketball courts, or the grocery store to see my crush play ball and bag groceries in his super cute work-enforced bow-tie.  Those Summer evenings of walking along side him while he walked his bike and we talked.  Endless conversations late at night while laying on the floor, attached to the phone by a spiral cord that easily wrapped around ones finger. 

Love is so much fun in the start, isn’t it?  What I wouldn’t give to go back to those days…

Another Lame Post

A lame post just might be better than no post at all.  I'm not entirely sure though.  Actually, I don't even have a theme to go off of today, so this may be the perfect opportunity to fall back on my old-school method of listing.

-  I have another cold.  This sucks.  This wacky weathered season-and-a-half have brought me more colds (and even a flu), than I care for.  1-2 a YEAR is my norm.  I've had a form of the flu, and at least 3 colds in the past 6 months.  Enough is enough!

-  My house was invaded by smaller plastic containers.  There was a sale on them at Menards and I leaped on it.  Now, we organize!

-  A co-worker of mine hates my haircut.  He hates that I have bangs, therefore, whenever he sees me rocking them he says "I hate your hair".  It's a little burst of sunshine (sarcasm heavily intended) in my cloudy day.

-  Archor Farms makes chips flavored "Grilled Cheese and Tomato".  They totally taste like creamy tomato soup.  I like them.

-  While at Target the other day, I bought a gigantic jug of cheese balls.  They aren't really even that great.  At any rate, they expire in May.  I said, "Hmm, they need to be gone by May huh?  I'll take that challenge!"  That is honestly the reason that I bought them.  Game on, cheese balls.

-  I ate my cheese balls out of a bowl, with a spoon, last night because I didn't want to dirty my hands.

-  Walgreens, I'm coming for you.  I need Nyquil and I know you've got it.


That'll do pig.

Drop the Scissors and Walk Away...

I can't stop cutting my own hair.

I just chopped another 5 inches off, on my own.

This could get ugly.

Currently Reading...

I feel as though blogging would take away from my reading time, and my goal is to read this book by the end of the weekend.

Wish me luck!

Moms Just Know Better...

My Father worked 2^nd or 3^rd shift for most of my childhood.  A lot of the other time he spent drinking, bartending or hanging out with friends and/or family.  My Dad and I were never close when I was growing up.  My Sister was his favorite. I don’t just say that; ask her, it’s true.  My oldest Brother and my Dad always had a strained relationship, and then there was me.  I became the son my Dad never had.

Me, My Dad, and my Sister

Apparently my Dad was too tall for photos back in the 80s.

What I mean by that is that I was tough.  Where my sister would use a net to pull minnows from the bucket, I’d reach in barehanded, even in my girly outfits, pull out a minnow and stick a hook through its mouth right then and there.  It was entertaining for all of my Dad’s co-workers and friends.  To me, it was probably just a delight to be the center of attention by doing things my Sister could not.

 

My Mother raised us for the most part.  She cared for us, nursed us when we were sick, corrected us when we were out of line, shielded us from my Father when he was drunk, drew with us, crafted with us, and hugged and loved us a lot.  For the sake of clarity, my Dad was not a violent drunk.  They fought, but it was never physical.  My Mom always made that clear to me; if my Father were to ever have raised a hand in anger towards her, she’d have taken all of us children and left.

 

Every Family has its ups and downs.  I wouldn’t change anything about my childhood; it made me who I am today and I am stronger for it. But there is no denying that my Mom knew me best.

 

Three years ago my Mother passed away.  It was sudden, it was shocking, and it changed my whole life.  She was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia and six weeks later I was holding her hand as she took her last breathe.  I lost my Mom.  I lost my best friend.  I lost the one person who will ever love me that much.  I think about that a lot, being single and all. 

 

All that to say, it’s almost become humorous the things that my Mom knew about me that my Dad had no clue about!  Great Moms are like that though, aren’t they?  I mean, I flip through the recipe book that she made for me many years ago and I smile when I read side notes on recipes saying things like “substitute cream of celery soup for cream of mushroom, because Heidi hates mushrooms!”  Or “NO ONIONS or Heidi won’t eat it!”  My Mom knew everything from my birthmarks to the things I wouldn’t eat in Potato Salad.  I secretly am convinced she wore a cape under her everyday clothes.

I’ve come to realize that my Dad knows none of these things about me.  Granted, he cannot learn them now because he has short-term memory loss due to sleep-apnea.

 

Examples:

I hate fish.  Therefore, of course I hate tuna.  And having said that, it should be no surprise that I do not eat tuna salad!  At least 4 times in the past 3 years my Dad has left me messages that he has made extra tuna salad so that I could come over and get some to bring home.  1.) Gag.  2.) It’s sweet of him to think of me and want to share.  Each time I politely decline.

I hate meatloaf.  Not the singer, ‘cause lord knows that “I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that!”  But I do not like the food.  I will make it, I will be around it, but I won’t choose to eat the stuff.  A few weeks ago I stopped over to see my Sister and my Dad was really excited to tell me that he’d made one of my favorites; meatloaf.  Really?   REALLY?  Were you not there during my childhood when I’d be grounded to the table and crying because I wasn’t allowed to leave it until I ate my meatloaf and finished my milk?  *shudders*

 

My Dad is great.  He makes BBQ Ribs like nobodies business, and those are my absolute FAVORITE!  So I do honestly laugh about the little things like tuna salad and meatloaf.  And then I’m forced to wonder, when is he ever going to make me the one piece of furniture that he promised he’d build me…over 20 years ago?  Or, when will he ever hang up those security lights that he thoughtfully (and I mean that) bought for me 2 Christmas’s ago?

 

There are things that I have never had a Dad to count on for, but then there are other things, like babysitting the cats, that I barely need to mention and he’s there for!  It’s amusing at times.

 

Family values are a little like family vacations -— subject to changeable weather and remembered more fondly with the passage of time. Though it rained all week at the beach, it’s often the momentary rainbows that we remember.

LESLIE DREYFOUS, New York Times, Oct. 25, 1992