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Monthly Archives: May 2011

Memorial Day Weekend – What’s Missing From My Brunswick Life

Memorial Day Weekend makes you remember what you love the most.  Decidedly, it was one of the best Memorial Day Weekends I’ve had in a really darn long time.

From a Friday night date night with Mike to a Saturday at the Depot, and then to a Sunday full of threatening weather, and a pontoon boat ride out to Jimmy Bukkett’s, it was all I could have wanted.

Here’s why:

  1. The Depot – My bar.  MY.  They know me.  I know them.  They know what I drink.  That’s what a hometown bar should be.
  2. Family – My cousins and I lay by the pool all weekend long, and complained about the storms, and how we just weren’t getting the tan we wanted.
  3. Storms – I love the tizzy that my mother (and the rest of my family) goes into when severe weather threatens…
  4. Boat Rides – …and the way I get on a pontoon boat with Mike and some amazing new friends to go out and drink at Jimmy Bukkett’s–a true oasis on the Sandusky River.
  5. New Friends – Like I said.  New friends.  New engagements.  New lives beginning (congrats Mike and Malinda!)
  6. Old Friends – They’re the ones you miss even when you didn’t realize you missed ’em.

Come Monday, I got a pretty wicked burn.  I would post pictures, but in order for you to see the extent of said burn, I’d have to show you tan lines, and as much as I love you bloggities, I don’t want to show you those parts of my body.

CHEERS!

 
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Posted by on May 31, 2011 in Daily Happenings

 

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Raising My Youngins’: The Basics for Boys

I love love love reading 1001 Rules for My Unborn Son, and I agree with the majority of them.  I love how specific they are, from “You can’t serenade a girl on the drums” to a Buddy Garrity quote:  “He loves football.  He just doesn’t know it yet.”

And while I am not that detailed, I thought I’d make a list of the basic things I know I will teach my son(s).  This may get long, and it may get more detailed, but hell, that’s just how I am.  I’m going to try to keep this away from the “how to treat women” side of things.

  1. Don’t hit girls.  (Broke my rule already.  This is the only one.)
  2. Dress for the occasion (hunting boots in the woods, suits in church).
  3. You can cry, but make sure it’s warranted.
  4. Don’t piss into the wind.  Or in front of women.
  5. Watch Indiana Jones.
  6. Go outside.
  7. Learn to hunt.
  8. Learn to fish.
  9. Learn to work on cars.
  10. Tell the truth.
  11. Don’t put yourself in situations you know you can’t get out of safely.
  12. Play baseball.
  13. Climb trees.
  14. Wrestling on TV is not real.
  15. Always come home when someone is sick.
  16. Read a book once in awhile.
  17. Always bring at least a 6-pack.
  18. Spiral a football–don’t just throw it.

Aaaand I’m tired, and am ready for the weekend.  So have a great Memorial Day Weekend!  See you Tuesday!

 
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Posted by on May 27, 2011 in Raising My Youngins

 

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My Storm Survival Pack – Throughout the Years

In light of all the recent storms, I thought I’d address my survival pack.  By survival pack, I mean what I drag to the basement with me whenever the tornado sirens start going off and the wind picks up.  And once all my stuff is IN the basement, I abandon it to stand out in the front yard until I’m bound to be swept away like Jonas’s truck in Twister.  I know I can get into the basement fast, but it takes a little prep time to gather the items that mean the most to me.  The pack has changed throughout the years based what’s important to me at that juncture of my life.  SO here are my survival packs throughout the years:

Infancy-10 years old:  Whatever I was wearing.  I had no sense of urgency, I did not fear the sky, and I’m sure my unawareness of bad weather left me in a blissful state of childhood.

10-16 years old:  Teddy Bear, jewelry, my keepsake box from all the men I loved who didn’t even know my name.  Favorite blankets.  Omar Vizquel baseball card collection.  Autograph book.  Photo albums.  Journals Journals Journals.  Beanie Babies.  Want to know why?  I was sure–absolutely SURE–that if my house blew away, it would be my super valuable Beanie Baby collection that would restore our lives when the storm was over.  Shut up.

16-18 years old:  Pretty much the same, minus the Beanie Babies.  And the keepsake box from men who didn’t know me became a keepsake box from my boyfriend at the time.  And then I got sentimental, and began grabbing something from each grandparent, something from each parent, something from my brother.  I wanted all my bases covered.

18-22 years old:  I was in college at Ashland University, and most of my valuable belongings were still at my parents’ house.  So the Teddy Bear (yes, he went to college, too), my jewelry box, and the belongings of whatever man I was dating then.  To be honest, I didn’t go to the basement very often when there were tornado warnings because I was a hardass in college.  Don’t doubt that.

22-25 years old:  I was in North Carolina.  There were no tornadoes.  And I never got a hurricane, and I didn’t have a basement, so I didn’t really have to worry about it.  I would have taken my jewelry box, items from a boyfriend, Teddy Bear, the quilt I made with my friend Joy, and I began taking my flash drives with all my writing on them.  Because you can bet your ass that I was quitting school if I lost my thesis and had to start over.

Quilt and Teddy Bear, first bedroom in NC.

 26 years old:  My jewelry, everything from Mike, the Teddy Bear, the Quilt.  I haven’t had to think about it in awhile.

The way it works with me is this:  I will grab everything I think I need and head to the basement.  If I don’t think there’s an immediate threat, I will run back up the stairs and grab something else, anything else.  I’ll stockpile as much as I can in the basement.  If I have time, I’m saving everything.

**of course I would save my family above all of this.

Praying for those who had to deal with severe weather this year.

 
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Posted by on May 26, 2011 in Daily Happenings, When I Was Young

 

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To the Prairies of Kansas…

My good traveling friend Erica asked me where in the world I have always wanted to travel to.  The truth is that the world seems a little big for me right now.  Sure, I can say I want to see Ireland, and Rome someday.  And that going to the Czech Republic would be a great way to see where I came from.  But the truth is that there are so many things in my own country that I would like to see.  So many states I’d like to visit.  So many American landmarks I want to go to.

I mean, I’m going to Wilmington soon, but only because I’ve lived there.  I wouldn’t go there on a whim or anything.  And I love Ohio.  LOVE Ohio.  I think that I would like to spend some time in southern Ohio, particularly Marietta, where there’s what I like to call “river culture.”  People who live by rivers, people who make use of that river, work with it, understand it.  I live by the Sandusky River, but it’s a far cry from something like the Ohio River.

I’ve always felt drawn to the prairies of Kansas, even though I’ve never laid eyes on them.  I’ve talked about how the open skies and fields of tall grass would make me feel before.  I just think that I would fit there.  I would fit in the bright dry weather, the humidity before a storm, the tornadoes.  I just need to see it for myself.

The Grand Canyon.  Alaska, The Badlands, deserts, the oil fields of Odessa.  I want to see them all.  I’m fine with not venturing out of my own country until I see all that there is to see.

That is not to say that I did not go to Canada when I turned 19 to drink in a bar for the first time.  Oh Canada!

 
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Posted by on May 25, 2011 in Daily Happenings

 

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The Waiting Generation

My friend Jody asked me (and my mother silently asks me day after day) why my generation is waiting until later on in life to have get married, have children, start families.

I have a few theories on this.  THEORIES.  So don’t jump down my throat, okay?  This is just from my rattling 26-year-old brain that resides in my childless 26-year-old body on which resides a ringless 26-year-old finger.  Disclaimer:  This is not me complaining, it is just putting my comments into perspective.

I am part of the Waiting Generation–which is ironic.  We’re all so impatient to get things-information, the latest technology, instant contact, instant gratification…  But we put a hold on the moments in life that used to be the moments generations before us looked forward to, worked for, relished in, and any other number of prepositional phrases.

So why are we waiting?

1)  College.  We all were expected to go to college, which creates some problems.  We’re lacking skilled trade workers, and we’re all vying for college-level jobs.  Not to mention, because we went to college, we feel that we are entitled to things.  Better things than our parents had.  Better things than our friends have.  We are motivated in the work place, plus we feel that if we have to pay back the MASSIVE amount of student loans that most of us have hanging over our heads, we better be making damn good money.  Marriage and children cost money; therefore, we avoid them.

2)  Permission.  I’m not blaming our parents for this.  I’m not really blaming anyone.  Well, maybe society.  We still feel like we can live with our parents until we’re 30.  And sometimes, we have to.  No full-time job?  Well, how are we supposed to live on our own?  And with our college degrees in hand, God forbid we pick up a shift at the local Denny’s.  By living at home, we pretty much lose half of our prospective marriage partners because people that we are willing to date/marry look at us and say, “You’re living with your parents…”  It’s not a fair assessment, and it sucks, but it’s true.

3)  Inability to Meet People.  They tell us that our college years are the new golden years.  Fantastic.  And if that’s the case, you don’t want to “tie yourself down.”  So we don’t date anyone seriously.  We tell ourselves that we’re still so young in college, the way our parents told themselves how young they were in high school.  College IS the new high school.  And then we don’t meet anyone in college.  Sometimes we find partners in grad school, but even then, we’re so focused on getting that higher degree to put us above the Bachelor’s degrees out there, that we overlook love.  And when we get out of school…well, if you don’t remember how hard a time I had finding at least FRIENDS around here, I think it’d be doubly hard to find a mate.

4)  The Lure of Youth.  You see it everywhere.  Everyone’s mourning their aging (myself included) and trying to get back to being young.  From miracle salon products to Hollywood, to finally being at an age where we see those around us growing older.  We’re trying to hold on to our youth, and trying to remain independent, so that no one else can force aging upon us.

5)  Geography.  Even in the perfect storm (take me for example), things get in the way of marriage and children.  In the economy, and in this society, we are slaves to our jobs.  They’re few and far between, and we take what we can get, where we can get it.  So even though I met Mike in grad school, we ended up living in different states because we need our jobs…to pay for our student loans, to give us our independence, to keep us out of our parents’ homes.  And we can try as much as we want to move together, but because we both chose fairly specialized majors in college, we’re having a hard time finding a region that contains opportunity for us both

The truth is that we’re all about 5-10 years behind our parents.  High degrees are now required to set us apart from the masses, where once a Bachelors’ degree sufficed.  So we’re spending so much more time in school, chasing our careers to make our student loans seem a little less scary, yet at the same time, feeling entitled to not grow up.  We’re afraid to take responsibility for someone other than ourselves.

There are people out there, though, who did meet someone in college, or in high school even, and followed suit.  I see nothing wrong with the way my parents lived, or that entire generation, as a matter of fact.  They raised us.  And we’re driven, and successful, and smart.  But something happened along the line.  Somewhere, we became afraid of commitment.  The main reason, though?  We’ve forgotten what it is to live for someone else. 

 
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Posted by on May 24, 2011 in Domesticity

 

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A Country Run – On Going Home

No matter where I go, or what I do, Fremont is home.  I swore to myself that I’d get out of that town, but it’s obvious to anyone who knows me that Fremont is in my blood.

Because Mike had a golf tournament this weekend, we decided it would probably be a waste for me to go to Pennsylvania, and that he’d probably be too sunburnt/hungover/tired to really hang out much this weekend.  So he golfed, and I took that long drive down route 303 toward my parents’ house.

I knew the moment I pulled off of the highway onto Smith Road that it was going to be one of those weekends that I felt homesick, even in my own home.  I spent Friday night watching the Cleveland Indians in my living room with my family, just like I used to.  And with a little wine in my system, I fell asleep on the couch with the TV glowing, rejoicing in everything that is cable television.

On Saturday morning, I went for a run on my country block–the block that used to put me in my place, and open up my eyes (and this time tore up my feet due to lack of summer feet – see picture to the left).  And I stopped and talked to a little old couple who always wave at me from their porch.  I took time to look out over the Sandusky River at all the people fishing off of the State Street Bridge.  I knew people who were driving past me in cars.  I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that.  I went for the same run on Sunday, stopping to talk to my old softball coach and wandering around the small streets behind the Ballville EZ Shop.

It’s insane how memories can exist in a place.  Remembering a ride down a certain road in a dune buggy, looking at the stars near Tindall Bridge with my first real boyfriend, almost crashing my car into the Sandusky River when my brakes locked up.  Watching my cousin, Clay get ready for prom got me completely lost in memories of my own prom.

I always told myself that I would never live in Fremont again, that there was no opportunity for me there.  But I found myself wishing that someday there would be.  But I guess that’s the bittersweet part about moving away from home.  People laughed at my love for my hometown in college.  So I can’t say that I didn’t appreciate it until I was gone.  I did appreciate it, but I shamed myself out of it.  And I’m lucky that I can still go back and see everything that is familiar to me and comforted me as a child.  Fremont isn’t so bad.  It may not hold any opportunity for me right now, but it’s still where I came from.

What it comes down to is that tearing up your feet on your home turf, and seeing the familiar faces reminds you that you’re stronger than you were, and that where you came from did play a part who you are today.

 
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Posted by on May 23, 2011 in Daily Happenings

 

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Summer Feet

I am not so patiently awaiting my summer feet.  In the Winter, we all get soft, padding around in Mukkaluks, boots, those horrendous looking Ugg things that people wear (but I hear are quite warm).  We walk around our house in fluffy penguin socks and store away our flip-flops.  And then we slip on rain boots (well, those of us in Ohio anyway) for about 3 months before the summer because God forbid we have a dry day.

But not me.  Oh no.  I’m working on my summer feet.  I’m wearing those flip-flops already, sliding around in them until I twist my ankle.  And if it gets below 40 degrees, I’m wearing my Sperry’s, sans socks, because I’m ready for summer feet.

I used to be able to run across my grandparents’ gravel driveway barefoot and not think a thing of it.  I want that back.  I want those tough callused feet that could withstand anything.  And I want to not care if my feet are dirty.

Take Jenny for instance:

Jenny's Feet After a Weekend in DC and Cooperstown, NY

Oh we ran barefoot and in flip-flops through fields of goldenrod.  We climbed trees and felt the bark with our souls…and our soles.


Those were the days.  Let’s do that again, friends.  Say in Wilmington?  This July?  We can run barefoot like madmen and drink on docks?

Wait, I know why I don’t have my summer feet yet…I need to have someone to romp around with.  Okay friends–we now have a mission.

Happy Friday!

 
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Posted by on May 20, 2011 in Daily Happenings, When I Was Young

 

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