Like crack, people.

I'VE DONE IT FOLKS.

I joined facebook ten minutes ago out of sheer fear that grandma Fern would start inundating me with "please join facebook" messages. I didn't want to be the last living soul on the planet to join this cult. And, after ten minutes and nine confirmed friends, I can truthfully say that I am addicted.

Two years and seven months ago ...

My best friend Kristin (aka: LuLu, Kris, Louie, Krissy, KJ, Peanut, etc.) is in the middle of a life-changing event. She's moving from San Francisco — where she's been stationed since our college graduation — aaaaalll the way across the United States to Washington D.C.

She's moving with her long-time BF Nick, who is starting the MBA program at Georgetown. Big stuff, people. BIG STUFF. I'm happy about this move because it means she will be closer to Chicago, and visits will be much easier and therefore more numerous ... I hope!

Kristin's last day of work was Friday, and she was cleaning out her work e-mail account, when she came across this one that I sent her almost three years ago during one of Northeast Ohio's finer moments. Ah the memories. She suggested that I post it on the blog, so here it is, in all its glory.

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Hi Krissy! I hope you’re having a marvelous morning. Here’s how my morning went.

7:35 a.m.:

La and I are placing the last piece of her new puzzle in place, and I tell her we need to leave. She asks if she can wear her new Barbie bridal gown to Miss Kathy's today. I say no.

I bend down to lace up my gigantic winter snow boots, pick daughter up, while holding my black J.Crew wedge shoes, a cup of piping hot green tea, and my purse (in the free arm) and attempt to unlock the door to leave. I trudge through the 9 inches of fresh powder (on top of 9 inches of snow from 2 days ago) in my big winter boots, wishing I was skiing down some mountain far, far away. By the time I get to the garage, my boots are filled with powdery snow, which begins to melt all over my bare feet. Such a sensation I wish upon no one.

We get to the garage, and I nimbly punch in my garage code with my one free finger. Alas, nothing happens. I try again. Much to my dismay, the garage door does not budge. This is the only way I can get to my car.

I curse.

La curses.

I tell her she shouldn't say that word.

I yell a few more "non-cuss words" and trudge my snowy ass back up the walkway to the front door.

I unlock my door and carefully place my belongings and my child on the rug. I go over to the "junk" drawer in the kitchen and rummage through it looking for a 9-volt battery and a Phillips-head screwdriver. I find the screwdriver, but not the battery.

I drag my kitchen chair to the hallway, stand on the chair, and proceed to remove the battery from the smoke detector. I then tell La to stay put (alone in a house that no longer has a smoke detector) and I go out for another trot through the winter wonderland to my garage.

I unscrew the screw that's holding the dead battery in place. I accidentally drop the screw in the 2-foot snow drift below (that whole needle in a haystack thing - didn't attempt to find it). I put the new battery in, but fail to fasten it in place due to the lost screw. I spike the old battery into the street in a fit of rage (I'll pick it up later ... a litter bug I am not!) and I punch in the code.

The dang thing opens.

I run to my front door (by this time you might as well call me the abominable snowwoman - I am covered in snow from my waist down.) I grab all of my stuff and my child again, and head back out, feeling all but defeated. Hopefully the rest of today will go a little better. My feet are still thawing.

Friday

La did not have school on Friday. Her pre-school went on a field trip to the Shedd Aquarium, and she would have gone along, except that she was required to have an adult with her. I couldn't take off of work, so I decided to work from home, in hopes that La would play quietly and leave me alone.

Earlier in the week, I found out that La's best friend F was in the same predicament. Except her mom works in a dental office, so there was no way she could work from home. So I offered to have F over while I worked.

Does that sound like a crazy idea?

It wasn't. They were perfect little angels. Collectively, they said maybe five words to me all day.

I got to overhear a few funny conversations that they had. La told F that she liked her sweater, and F replied, "Thanks! It's from T.J. Maxx!" And when they were eating lunch, F looked at La and emphatically stated, "This soup is so good, I can't resist it!"

Later, La started singing her favorite Taylor Swift song, Love Story. There's a line that goes, "We keep quiet, because we're dead if he knew." But La sang, "We keep quiet cuz my daddy canoes." I like that version better.

The only drawback to having two munchkins around was that every square inch of my home looked exactly like this by the time F left:

Last Night's Project

Click photo to enlarge

Meagan and Mark had an amazing photographer at their wedding. The photos turned out so incredibly that I had to get some of them printed. And then I decided to frame them and hang them on my bathroom wall.

Meagan, I hope you realize what an honor it is to be a part of the visual focal point for anyone that sits on our household loo.

Tutus and Treats

Today La asked if she could dress like a ballerina for school. I started to say no, but then considered the fact that starting two weeks from now, she will have to wear a uniform to school.

As you can see, I conceded.

Tutu tank top from Aunt Ashley; Leg warmers from GoodyTwoShoes shop on Etsy; Umbrella from Uncle Aaron.

When I picked her up this afternoon, her entire outfit was covered in bright red splotches and she was running around in circles, giggling like a lunatic. The following conversation ensued after I managed to corral her:

Me: So, you had spaghetti for lunch, huh?

La: Yeah. How did you know that?

Me: Look at your shirt.

La: Oh.

Me: And whose birthday was it?

La: Sebastian's. How did you know?

Me: You only act like this (makes cuckoo gesture with finger near ear while simultaneously crossing eyes and sticking tongue out) when you've had chocolate.

La: Oh.

Man, do I have my kid figured out or what?

Musical Prodigy?

... Or maybe she's just tone deaf.

A most perfect evening

Last night I should have been doing laundry and working. But instead, I made some pasta, we packed it in tupperware, and headed to the park for a picnic.

It was one of those beautiful summer evenings that simply could not be wasted on mundane tasks like housework. Ick.

So waste it we did not.

And then we walked home, hand-in-hand, lost in deep discussion about grizzly bears, cyclopses (who are rumored to live under the bridge in Lincoln Park), fluffy white dogs, and princesses.

And when we got to the last block, we raced the rest of the way home. I won. La couldn't believe that I knew how to run that fast. And that's when I told her all about my eighth grade "track star days."

It put her right to sleep.

Only in Wisconsin

Behold, my dad's side of the family:

... Or, as I like to call them, the "frightfully normal" side of the family.

For the past fifteen years or so, we've been congregating for summertime family reunions. This year, we picked a more "local" destination for the get-together. We chose Wisconsin Dells.

To this day it remains unclear whose notion it was to visit the Dells. Some say it was mine, but I merely recall nodding in agreement months ago when the idea was first mentioned. You see, I had never been to the Dells before this week. And being that I'm from Wisconsin, this is very, very odd.

Wisconsin Dells is, in a word, BIZARRE. It's a full-blown tourist trap in every sense of the term, with amusement parks, water parks, mini golf, drive-in theaters, go-carts, haunted houses, monster trucks, Paul Bunyan restaurants, inverted White Houses, "ancient" runes, I-HOPs on every corner, bungee jumping, Trojan horses, and even the World's Largest Flamingo. All located in one square mile.

I AM NOT KIDDING YOU.

See? Go-carts.

La wanted to ride the carts with Uncle Aaron, which turned out to be great fun for her. For me, however, it was rather frightening. There she was, in the go-cart with Uncle A, perfectly relaxed, her little arm HANGING OUTSIDE OF THE VEHICLE. As though she wasn't seated along-side one of the most reckless individuals the world has ever seen.

I kept envisioning the two of them crashing into a rock (even though there were no rocks), and Uncle A bringing her back to me with a bloody stump for an arm and me having to strangle him with my bare hands in front of hundreds of fellow tourists.

But, as you can see below, she came back with her arm entirely intact. And I'm pretty sure she had the time of her life.

The coolest thing about the Dells — which is lost entirely among All The Madness — is the actual Dells themselves. The Dells are rock formations in the Wisconsin River that were carved by a glacier thousands of years ago. They are quite beautiful. For some reason I didn't take any photos of the actual rock formations, so here's one from Wikipedia.

We got to observe this beautiful scenery from aboard an Original Wisconsin Duck. If you're not familiar with ducks, they are amphibious vehicles, meaning they can navigate both land and water.

Neat-o.

If this video doesn't blow your mind, then I don't know what will.

The two nights that we spent at the resort were great. We sat by the campfire overlooking Lake Delton both nights, chatting with our families, drinking beer, and soaking up the freezing cold August air. It was so nice to be with these people.

La is pictured above with my newly-engaged cousin Joel and his lovely lady, Tami. Congrats guys! (I have to add that Joel is a very sweet boy, which you might not gather from his menacing expression in the photo above. I think he was just angry about the large man with the handlebar-mustache and way-too-short-shorts who had intruded on our campfire session and was incessantly mooing like a cow.*)

On our way back to Chicago today, Aunt M, La and I hung out on the University of Wisconsin campus in Madison for a few hours. That school is awesome. We got to meet up with out cousins and Aunt Kay too, which made the Madison experience even better.

And now we're home. And it's back to the grindstone tomorrow. It's always so hard to go back to work after a whole week of vacation. I'm hoping La goes to school peacefully tomorrow without having to be bribed. I'll let you know how that goes.

*The man with the handlebar-stash and the short shorts was not a figment of my imagination. According to multiple sources other than myself, he really existed. And he really was sitting around the campfire mooing like a cow. He also had a harmonica. Only in Wisconsin, I say.

'Sconsin

Ah, the Great North Woods. Ain't nothing like it. You betcha.



Isn't the scenery beautiful up here?

We're up in Neillsville, Wisconsin at this very moment. Have I told you about Neillsville before? It's the town where my dad and his two brothers and one sister grew up. My Grandma Fern and Grandpa Cal still live here, in the same house where they raised their children.

Neillsville is a small town located smack-dab in the middle of the Great State of Wisconsin. A true one-horse-town if I ever saw one. Look! We even saw that one horse!

Uncle Aaron and Grandpa Dave have been up here for the past few days, while us girls were in Milwaukee. We pulled in to the driveway this afternoon, and were shortly joined by these two strapping lads who had come home from a rainy day of fishing. Precious little hillbillies, aren't they?

The best part is that my father did not pack any water-resistant clothing, so he's wearing Grandma Fern's windpants in the photo above. As if wearing his mom's pants wasn't dorky enough, he also had to carefully affix his car keys to his granny pants in true safety-nerd fashion (I can hear his retaliation now: "Well Kari, you know that metal sinks! If it had been you fishing out there, those keys would have been at the bottom of the lake. Then who would have been laughing?")

Uncle Aaron, Aunt M and I just got back from a "trip into town." Grandpa even lent us his shiny red pickup truck for the ride. Snazzy.

We stopped at the local Bob & Caryl's IGA, where we discovered that this month's bratwurst is CHEESE. Go figure.

La loves it here. She's already picked raspberries in the yard, put together a big puzzle with Grandma Fern, and right now she's sitting by my feet looking at old photo albums.

I always forget how gorgeous it is up here, with the dense woods, blue skies and rolling hills in the distance.

And wow. My dad is truly in his element. I mean, where else can you sit outside on the picnic table with your wife and simultaneously shave your beard?

Marci & Scott. A Garden Wedding.

We spent another weekend in Cleveland, Ohio. It was the last of three weddings that La served as "flower girl" in this summer.

Marci and Scott were married on Friday. The weather had to be perfect. This was essential as the wedding and reception were both entirely outdoors, and there WAS NO BACKUP PLAN. I think for the last few months Aunt M has lost sleep over the possibility of rain on Marci's wedding day, being that there WAS NO BACKUP PLAN (did I mention that already?) Because WHO THE HECK plans an OUTDOOR wedding with NO BACKUP PLAN?

... but Marci kept assuring us not to worry, that it would not rain. Because apparently she knows these things.



Well, she was right. Friday and Saturday were probably the two most beautiful days of the entire summer.

And Marci was stunning, as we all knew she would be.



Marci's bridal party consisted of Aunt M, who was the maid of honor, Stephanie, myself, and La. All of us (except for La of course) have been friends since grade school.



Marci wore a birdcage veil that suited her just perfectly.

Gorgeous.



Marci and Scott were married in the Hungarian Garden of the Cleveland Cultural Gardens. It was a beautiful little ceremony in a perfect little garden. They wrote their own vows, which were touching and personal and just so sweet.



Like I said, the garden was gorgeous, as you can see below. I love this photo because you can see the beauty of the garden as well as the sheer panic in Anthony's face. He could not get away from La fast enough. I wish I had video of this shot because La was chasing after him yelling in her loudest, most obnoxious voice, "ANT-O-NEEE! ANT-O-NEEE! WAAAAIIIIITTTT FOR MEEEEE!" ... Poor thing. That boy deserves a medal.



La was truly in her element in that garden. I'm sure that if I had allowed her, she would have moved her princess bed right onto the flagstone floor, hung her mosquito net from a branch, and hammered her Marilyn Monroe poster right into a tree trunk.

Right at home, I tell ya.



Grandpa was enjoying himself too. Isn't he the cutest sitting there holding my bouquet? Awww. Gramps. Pink flowers suit you quite marvelously.



After the Friday reception there was a delicious dinner at Lolita in Tremont for close friends of the bride and groom. (the official reception was the next day at Marci's parents' home).

Lolita is one of my favorite Cleveland-area restaurants (my absolute fave being Blue Canyon Kitchen and Tavern in case you're wondering). The menu was to-die-for. For starters, there was the spicy tomato bisque or the arugula and goat cheese salad. The second course was steamed mussels or a sopressata plate (a type of cured salami). The dinner options were Hanger Steak, Lamb Steak, Grilled Trout, or Macaroni with Rosemary, Goat Cheese and Chicken ... And then there was dessert.

Whoa. It was delicious. La ate more than I have ever seen her eat in her whole life. She ordered every course and ate almost everything.

Then she started playing bride with the other little girl at our table. The two of them were so cute playing together. Until they knocked down the fancy curtains. Four times.



After dinner, we went out in Tremont. It's a very cool little neighborhood, and the bars are pretty fun. We spent a good portion of the evening sitting at a bar table trying to imitate La's sideways-smile "Stink Eye" face that she makes in photos:



See? Steph and Aunt M both got it pretty spot-on if you ask me.



It was a fantastic day and wonderful evening. The next day was equally as great. The problem is that I'm on vacation and did not bring any of the photos from the Saturday reception. Bummer. I don't know when I'll be able to post those. Maybe in a week or two.

But the good news is that I'm on vacation! Woop Woop! And now I'm going out to the pool.

Soup & Scoop Therapy

Tonight I was crabby. So, so crabby. I don't really know why I was crabby. I just was. This happens sometimes.

As soon as we walked through the door, La wanted to play with her Sing and Dance Pinkie Pie, and whenever she plays with that thing for more than three minutes, that torturous Pinkie singsong voice becomes so unbearable that I want to hurl my body straight out of our living room window. Thanks for the wonderful birthday present Granny Lin! We needed that thing like we needed a hole in our heads. (Pinkie Pie must be payback for all the times when I was a child that my mom pointed her finger at me and said, "YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL YOU HAVE KIDS.")

Anyway, I let her play with her stinking Pinky Pie for a good ten minutes before I turned around and screamed, "DOESN'T THAT THING PLAY ANY OTHER SONGS?" To which La replied in a quiet, scared little voice, "I just really really like this one."

Poor sweet child.

So, I turned of The Robot From Hell, restrained myself from posting it on e-Bay RIGHT THAT SECOND, and suggested that we go for some Soup Box and Bobtail Ice Cream. It turned out to be a very wise decision.

La and I had a nice little dinner followed by delicious ice cream. We chatted. We relaxed. We reminisced. It was great.

When we were sitting on that bench, I looked at La and was suddenly hit upside the head with one of those moments where you just can't believe how lucky you are to have such an amazing thing in your life. A moment where you wonder what you have possibly done to deserve such a blessing.

I looked at her with tears welling in my eyes and said, "La, you're my sweet, beautiful baby girl."

She thought about that for a second, looked back at me and with all the tenderness possible said, "Mom, you're my sweet, beautiful little tooth fairy."

I hope she doesn't realize how correct the "tooth fairy" part of that statement is.

That Hair

Every morning when we're getting ready, La thinks of a famous person or character that she wants her hair to resemble. Which is FANTASTIC when we're running late!

For example, she'll say "I want my hair to look like Cinderella!" and then I have to put her hair in a high bun and headband. If it doesn't resemble Cinderella enough, I have to re-do it. On Friday, she asked for the above hairdo. Can you guess whose hair she was replicating?

Festa Weekend

This was one of the three weekends that Aunt M, La and I got to spend in Chicago this summer. We hit up two festivals, the beach and even Whole Foods (the new one on Kingsbury). I don't think I've ever been to such a fine grocrey store in all my life. I mean, you can walk around with a glass of wine while you shop. AND there are a million friendly staff members available, ready to hunt down the more exotic items on your grocery list (like lemon curd ... I don't even know what that is, but I needed it. And a cute Whole Foods boy found it for me. He even tracked me down in the dairy department to hand-deliver it. So special.) I could live in that store.

Why did I need lemon curd, you ask? Well. Angela just got back from Italy's Amalfi Coast, and the whole time she was gone I was insanely jealous that she was there and I wasn't. Angela posted a photo on her blog of this special dessert that they make there called Delizie al Limone, and I just had to make it so I could experience a little bit of Italy myself.

And darn it, these little lemon cakes are GOOD. And that's probably because if you want to make 8 little cakes, you need two cups of heavy whipping cream, 4 eggs, lots of sugar and even Limoncello. The drawback (besides having to ROLL yourself away from the table after consumption and immediatly begin a P-90X workout) is that they take about two hours to make, and then they have to chill for another two hours. So unless you are trying to gain weight and have oodles of time on your hands, I would just stick with lemon bars.

Yesterday, we hit up the Lincoln Park Arts and Music Festival, which was fun but HOT. Thank goodness for gelato.

And today there was the Taylor Street Festa Italiana in Chicago's Little Italy neighborhood. It was like all festivals, in that it was basically a bunch of drunk people eating mass quantities of food. What could be better really?

The little Italian especially loved it, as showcased in her "Walk Like and Egyptian" dance, perfomed to Sinatra.

I think the three of us have had our fill of festivals. At least for now ... Until the Oyster Festival in September, which I'm dying to attend. Because who wouldn't want to eat raw Oysters in the summertime, nine hundred miles from the nearest ocean?

A Bridal Shower for Marci

So, Marci's shower was Sunday at her parents' house. They have the very best yard. It's three or so acres, bordered by lush woods and landscaped impeccably. And it's especially beautiful when it's framing a young glowing mommy/bride-to-be and her gorgeous little lambchop. (mush, mush, gag, gag, barf — I know! But aren't they just too SMOOSHY CUTE to handle?)

Marci's mom, Georgann, has the greenest thumb around, and she grew the flowers that became the centerpieces on the tables. Stunning.

Aunt M and I put together most of the food, which was very simple, but delicious nonetheless.

And boy-ola! There were mountains upon mountains of gifts for one little gal to open. So Marci helped La a little with the task. I think I need to try this "marriage" thing just on account of the MOUNTAINS of gifts you receive. Now, about the whole "finding a husband" concept ...

*crickets*

Maybe I'll just start registering at Crate and Barrel for a "Yippee! I'm Single Without Prospects So Buy Me New Stuff!" shower. Aunt M and I could even register TOGETHER. Novel concept! We'll go ahead and give the people of the world another reason to think we're lesbian lovers who have a little blonde love child together. (Seriously, people actually think that. It's really hurting our game.)

Back to Marci! And Scott! Man, did they score. Giftwise, I mean.

And I got to play with the cutest baby in the world. So, I scored too.

I love how Clayton and Jackie are making the exact same face in this pic. Priceless:

It was such a pleasure to spend time with Marci and her family over the weekend. Simply delightful.

I can't wait for the wedding. (in one week! holy cow!)