I Don't Get Your Deal, November.

I've recently decided that November is my least favorite month. See, I like months that are exactly as you'd picture them in your head. For example, October guarantees gourds on front doorsteps and brightly-colored leaves. July will be hot, sunny, and perfectly summery. November, on the other hand, is a crapshoot. November needs to decide what it is and stick to it.

November in my mind usually goes something like this: newly-fallen leaves tinged with a hint of frost, perfect cool temperatures for running, and an occasional turkey decoration on someone's house.

Instead, here in Madison, it's winter. Not like, "Oh, look at those first little flakes of snow." I'm talking four inches of white stuff on the ground. It's currently 16 degrees outside. I'm the only one who has "harvest" decorations on her front porch. The rest of the neighborhood is already bedazzled in Christmas lights and friendly snowmen. And I always forget how dark it is this time of year. Anyone with me on overturning daylight savings time?

Even though I am frustrated with November's identity crisis, I made the most of things this past weekend when I visited Lake Geneva, Wis., a hop, skip, and a jump from where I grew up. I think the pictures I took illustrate the current state of affairsa post-tourist landscape stuck between fall and winter. My advice to November? Do some soul-searching and figure out who you are.

OK, I'm done with my rant now. Here are some pretty pictures.







Put a Bird On It

Yesterday, I gathered up my laptop and camera and headed to Wausau, Wis. for a morning visit to the Leigh Yawkey Woodson Art Museum, a hidden gem in the North Woods. I love an art museum, but I particularly love this one because all of the art features birds: flying, nesting, migrating. Their pieces feature the likes of Charley Harper and other greats of the wildlife art world.

As I scooted around groups of schoolchildren who were legitimately interested in the artwork, I couldn't help but notice one common theme that came across in the pieces: vulnerability. Maybe it's because birds are generally viewed as small and delicate creatures, but I noticed the fragility even more as I looked through the photos I took.

If you find your direction pointing north, I would highly recommend a visit to this lovely art museum.






Well, That Happened...

So, I haven't blogged in two months. For many good reasons. Life happens. I know you all can relate.

To make up for my AWOL status, I am posting several photos that I snapped a couple weeks ago when I was up North with my husband for a few days.

By the way, when I say "up North," that doesn't just mean Green Bay in Wisconsin speak. I stayed in a cabin that was less than an hour from Canada. I've decided that I'd like to have a personal cabin all to myself that overlooks a lake and I'll write and write and write to my heart's content.

Until then, I'll just look at these photos again and again. Enjoy.
















Grandmom

Nine years ago today, my grandma (whom I referred to from a very young age as "Grandmom") passed away. Fairly unexpectedly and way too early. It's always a tough day on me and my family, and my mom and aunt have shared beautiful tributes on Facebook.

My instinct is to be sad, and it would be natural, but I'm going to use this blog post to go in a different direction: a list of 20 things I liked best about her. Here goes...*

*Disclaimer: I realize that my last post was about Robin Williams. I promise that I won't always be writing about things that may make you want to cry, call someone you care about, and eat chocolate (simultaneously).


1. Her "Yellow Bag." It was a bag where she kept toys, treats, and goodies for me, and there were always new things in it every time I visited.

2. Spaghetti and meatballs, pork chops, and Italian sausage...lovingly called "barnyard spaghetti." She would get a kick out of the fact that I'm a vegetarian now.

3. Her Uncle Sam collection

4. On Thanksgiving, when I walked in the house, I felt like I was walking into an issue of Martha Stewart Living.

5. When I was about five or so, I had a Cabbage Patch doll named Emmy. And when we would go on vacation, Grandmom would "babysit" Emmy. She would even show me the empty jars of baby food when we came home.

6. She'd listen to me talk for hours about school, friends, and things I liked. She made me feel as if I was the most fascinating person in the world.

7. Oh, and another thing about Thanksgiving. She would make me my own special pumpkin pie (one without cream cheese, which I didn't love).

8. And that word, "special." That was her word for me. She always found cards that said "special" somewhere and underlined it.

9. Her laugh

10. On holidays, Papa would try to make me eat "weird foods" (i.e. liver and onions). Grandmom would say, "Oh, Ross, leave her alone."


11. During my first year at Ripon College, she would send me cookies, cards, and other little things.

12. She was the best gift-opener in history. I'm sure that many a time, she received a less-than-desirable gift. But her reaction made it seem as if it was the best gift she had ever gotten.

13. She was constantly on the lookout for things that had my name on them, like pencils and ornaments. She knew those items were rare since my name isn't a common one.

14. At every one of my events, from basketball games to academic awards nights to school plays, she was there.

15. Speaking of basketball, she loved the Bulls, particularly Michael Jordan. She never missed a game when he played.

16. The red "You Are Special Today" plate she put out for the birthday boy or girl.

17. Her larger-than-life personality, complete with blue eyeshadow (hey, it was the 80's) to her fiery red hair.

18. She always knew just what to say. A favorite quote of hers was "This too shall pass."

19. The sights, smells, and sounds of her "Nice Things" gift shop.

20. The fact that Grandmom had a knack for making every human being she came into contact with feel important and worthwhile.

To sum up, she was just pure awesomeness.


Robin Williams


I don't consider my blog to be a place where I share things that will inevitably bring people down or to get on my soapbox, but today, I just can't stay quiet.

Robin Williams died yesterday. He had a creative mind that I always admired. It's not everyone who can seamlessly transition between a housekeeper in drag, a psychologist, and Peter Pan. He couldn't help but let his talent spill out upon whatever project he worked on.

I saw a discussion in one of my LinkedIn groups this afternoon in which the person asked for people to share their thoughts on Robin Williams' death. It opened with, "What happens when celebrities lose their way and think death is the only answer to their problems?"

No one can claim to know the inner workings of anyone's mind, but this person failed to mention something. Yes, he was a celebrity. But he was also just another person wrestling with depression.

Depression is of course a negative force that encompasses one's life. But it's also clever as hell. It's the chemical equivalent of the bully who tries to pressure you to do the exact thing you don't want to do. It seeks out your most vulnerable spots, and almost always succeeds. And if it commands something, at the time it makes perfect sense to your exhausted, weary mind.

How do I know this? I've had my own taste of it.

Every winter, I grapple with Seasonal Affective Disorder. While some people may refer to it as the "winter blues," it's much more than that. It's like a wet, heavy blanket that covers you from head to toe and no matter what you do, you can't pull it off. Every bad thing you've ever believed about yourself rushes to the forefront of your mind. The darkness outside often matches your insides.

And that's just three months a year. My heart goes out to people who face it every day of their lives. You are tougher than you know.

I've never come close to the moment of desperation Robin Williams must have reached, but at the same time, I can understand it. Like I said, in that moment, to a depressed person the thought seems reasonable. Your brain isn't firing the synapses correctly, and you take the form of another human being entirely. The fight goes out in you and you simply give in.

Depression is an incredibly stigmatized health condition. It's fine to discuss diabetes, heart disease, and osteoporosis ad nauseum, but bring up depression, and the room will bristle. I read a statistic today that 5 - 9% of Americans have depression. I believe that number is higher, but only the brave ones are reporting correctly.

If anything good comes out of Robin Williams' passing, I hope that depression is pushed out of its hiding place and into the light. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Let's bring it out into the open.

Summer


Summer is a fleeting time for anyone, but for me, the girl who could live year-round in a never-ending summer, the time tends to pass even faster in my mind. But this is the first summer in quite a while that I have had the luxury to take many delicious pauses and drink it in.

I haven't had a proper summer since I joined the workforce. Now that I've been freelancing for a few months, I've discovered that a cubicle just wasn't for me. Especially on warm, sunny days, when I would longingly look out the window like a child who just wanted to go outside and play.

And so I open my office window while I work to feel the balmy breezes and listen to the chirping birds. I take Ginger for walks in the middle of the day. I go for a mid-afternoon run on a local trail. Instead of living in a perpetual state of stress, even on weekends, I simply sit back and enjoy Saturdays.

There have always been summer bonfires, firefly-watching, strawberry picking, and boating on the lake, but this summer, I'm finally able to take a breath and soak up every moment.

10 Awesome Things About Being a Freelance Writer

I'm officially three months in to my new career as a full-time freelancer. And I've quickly discovered that the freelance life is chock full of awesomeness. Here are 10 things that are truly great about being a freelancer.

1. At the moment, I'm sitting in Michaelangelo's Coffee House while James Taylor plays in the background and the soothing whir of conversation surrounds me. I love that I can pick up my job and take it anywhere. Excuse me, I'm just booking a ticket to Bora Bora so I can work in one of those little beach huts...


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2. I can eat totally non-conventional meals in the comfort of my home. Cheerios for lunch? Don't mind if I do!

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3. My cute/ridiculous/hilarious T-shirt wardrobe is getting a lot more play.

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4. Ugh, holy migraine. I can use all of my headache-relief paraphernalia now. Peppermint pulse point oil. Microwaveable neck wrap. A giant mug of tea.

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5. I can play my music without any judgement. What am I in the mood for today? Fleetwood Mac? Glenn Miller? Bjork?


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6. My Keurig has sure gotten a lot more use. It's a universal requirement that writers must drink coffee.

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7. Having a corgi and/or a kitty laying at my feet while I work doesn't suck.

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 8. I don't freeze to death nor do I overheat. I control the temperature. Next, the world.

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9. I work out in the morning or over lunch. Gone are the days of dragging my ass to an evening class or forcing myself out the door for a run.

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 10. I'm back to using all of my (slightly-embarrassing) writers' block busters. They often involve dancing.

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 There will be more lists of awesome things about freelancing to come. Stay tuned!


Woo-Hoo!

So, something pretty darn cool happened today. I went to Barnes & Noble, looked through their racks and racks of magazines, and picked up an issue with my byline.


That's my piece on the lower left! Credit: girlslife.com


Although I've been published many times over, it was exciting to pick up a national glossy and see my name, especially now that I'm in business for myself.

Girls' Life is a fabulous magazine for girls, and it's awesome to be a part of its great content. It was so fun to tap into the brain of my 13-year-old self to write advice about guys.

Just had to share! OK, shameless self-plug terminating in 3...2...1...

A single page of my two-page spread...yay!

A Day in the Windy City

The day before the Fourth of July (otherwise known as that lesser-known holiday, the "Third of July"), BJ and I braved the deluge of fellow tourists and voyaged down to Chi-town. Admittedly, "All That Jazz" was in my head for most of the day. But, our activities for the day weren't particularly jazzy. In fact, they were downright nerdy.

No bones about it, we were in for a fun day.

I decided to forgo my usual Michigan Avenue/Outlet Mall itinerary in the interest of not boring my hubby to tears. So, we decided upon mutually-agreeable activities of going to Shedd Aquarium and the Field Museum. I was hoping to steal a few minutes to run in and out of Topshop, but honestly, we were just having way too much fun at the museums.

After a too-early-for-most-humans ride on the train, we arrived (sleepily) to Shedd Aquarium. And then I geeked out. A lot. BJ did, too, but I'm much more obvious about my excitement than he is.

"Look at that seashell lamp! I need that seashell lamp!"
"Look at that fish! I'm going to name him George!"
I also put my hand directly into a touch tank and grazed my hands along a few sturgeon, which felt surprisingly reptilian and not slimy as I had imagined (BJ refused to join in the fish touching). And the best part was watching sea otters swim back and forth, smile at me (or at least that's what I believed to be true), and swim back and forth again. I would have included a picture, but those otters were just too fast and squirrely to be photographed (or should the word be otter-y?).

Our next destination was the Field Museum. I hadn't been there since I was little, and yeah, I forgot about all of the taxidermy. Apparently at least 57% of the Field Museum is just exhibits of dead animals. And this was upsetting to me. Let's move on.

I enjoyed all of the old-school exhibits in their Wes Anderson-like glory.

Exhibit A
Exhibit B
Exhibit C
I felt tiny several times. More than usual.

Craned my neck to see these guys
Yup, that's me standing in a dinosaur footprint. My Toms have never looked so dwarf-like.
I wanted to take home the pretty Native American textiles, but I'm guessing the museum would frown upon that.


I also wanted to see if this would fit in my purse. Darn protective plate glass. Maybe BJ will surprise me by purchasing it from the museum and giving it to me for my birthday. Yes, this seems very possible.


And then I saw the greatest thing of all, which easily could have been included in one of the museum exhibits. Who remembers these bad boys? Perhaps you saw them at zoos or aquariums when you were a kid. The smell of burning plastic should be off-putting, but I think this machine reeks of glorious nostalgia.


And then my inner six-year-old, who at one time dreamed of being a paleontologist, got giddy over the dinosaur exhibits.

I think this dinosaur is sassy. She's showing off her legs.
Overall, an awesome day trip with the hubs. I found out that being geeky can be pretty exhausting. BJ then proceeded to come home and watch Star Trek. I guess he has a higher tolerance.


P.S. After the Field Museum, we managed to muster a bit more strength to wander over to the Adler Planetarium, where I got a kick-ass shirt. It's pictured here with my plastic dino from the Mold-a-Rama machine.