I've lived in Michigan my entire life so you would think I would have thicker skin. Or blood. Or whatever it is that I'm supposed to have. I should be accustomed to the drafts of cold air sneaking in from underneath doors and around the windows, but, alas, I am convinced I was born in the wrong state. After about October 15th, my toes say goodbye to their freedom as I lovingly place my flip flops in the closet where they sleep away the winter, clinging to the last specs of sand from their lazy summer days at the beach. Whispering "see you in the Spring," I close the closet door and realize that as the weather gets colder and my toes turn blue, my socks just don't measure up. Even my SmartWools can't warm up the ice cubes that were once my toes. (Though, they are without a doubt the best socks I've ever worn. If you've never had a pair of SmartWools, do yourself a favor and get some. They're worth the $10 a pair. And they're not even paying me to say that)
So after a few weeks of stealing Nicole's slippers when she's not around, I meander over to Kohl's during lunch yesterday to find all of the slippers on sale! Every kind of slipper I ever dreamed of - flip flops, booties, mules, ballet, moccasins, fur-lined, terry cloth. I'm overwhelmed with choices but my toes literally tingle with excitement at the promises of warmth in each aisle of fuzzy yummy slippers.
After 20 minutes of walking through each aisle and picking up each pair, turning them over, squeezing them, petting them, (you know you do it too) I begin to wonder why it is that, unlike shoes, no one ever tries on slippers in the store. They're just as important as shoes as far as fit and function, maybe even more so. We've all bought uncomfortable shoes for the sake of fashion, but uncomfortable slippers would completely defeat the purpose. Not to mention the fact that slippers don't come in sizes like shoes do - all the more reason to slip one on before buying.
But yet I don't do it for fear of committing some kind of unspoken social faux pas, some unwritten rule that says you can't remove your shoes in the slipper aisle or you'll be banished from the department store with a scarlet S forever branded on your forehead.
Maybe it's because slippers are intimate and considered more of an undergarment because, while they are worn on the outside of clothing, they are almost never worn outside the house. Maybe it's because no one actually ever goes slipper shopping for themselves because they'll inevitably get a pair for Christmas from Aunt Martha. Or maybe it's simply that you can't get your foot inside of a pair of slippers in the store because they are stapled together, tied up with a ribbon or nestled inside of a sealed box, leaving you to squeezing and petting them as you close your eyes and imagine yourself in your bathrobe and your new pair of slippers scuffling along your kitchen floor.
Thirty minutes pass and I've already had three different pairs of slippers in my hands. Too girly... Not girly enough... Too hard... Too soft... I morph into a combination of Goldilocks and Cinderella before I finally settle on a pair of light blue, yummy soft, mule slippers on sale for eight bucks - a small price to pay for warmth.
October 24, 2008
October 17, 2008
It's a Michigan Thing
Second only to watching the Lions lose on Thanksgiving Day, Fall leaf and color tours are a tradition in the mitten. Every September and October my family, armed with salami sandwiches, yogurt-covered raisins and a 35mm camera, hopped into the car in search of, yes, trees. Trees ablaze with burning reds, sunny yellows and vibrant oranges. We would drive hours to see a rainbow of trees reflecting in the turquoise waters of Torch Lake or dotting the hills of Kalkaska. The view from atop Dead Man's Hill would leave us breathless.
It's safe to say that I grew up with a fervent appreciation for the beauty of a Michigan Autumn and it was that appreciation, along with a spectacular birthday present from Nicole, that led the two of us on a color tour of our own this past weekend.
With the sun shining on a unheard-of 75-degree day, we set out for Mackinaw City on Saturday morning. A few trees were turning in the lower half of the state but it wasn't until a few hours north that we really noticed the changing landscape. Every other word was "oooh!" or "look at that!" Reluctant to stick my expensive digital camera out the window for a shot, I tried a few through-the-window photos...
We arrived in Mackinaw City in time to catch the 3pm ferry to the island. The sparkling water, the majestic Mackinac Bridge and the island in all its history and color was an incredible sight. Here are some shots we took on the island.
After two incredible days on the island, we drove west toward Harbor Springs down highway 119 known as The Tunnel of Trees. A barely two-lane road winding along a bluff high above lake Michigan, these pictures don't do it justice, but I think you'll get a pretty good idea how amazing it was.
Ending the day with a lovely lunch on a picnic table at the marina (we highly recommend Cornichons Market in Harbor Springs) we headed home already brimming with ideas for next year.
VOTE
This is an off-the-cuff post today because as I was thinking about the impending presidential election on my morning commute (all eight minutes of it) and I needed to write about my obsession with the election. Truly, I am obsessed. And this is strange for me because, like a lot of things in my adult life, I was a late bloomer when it came to understanding and being involved in politics. I did not vote for the first presidential election I was eligible for (GASP! I know!) because I was too ignorant to make a decision. (At least I recognized my ignorance, unlike a lot of Americans - yes, that means you, crazy McCain rally lady!)
As a young adult, politics was right up there with the stock market - I had no understanding nor did I really want to take the time to gain it. None of it seemed to affect me in the least as I was studying in college and planning my future as the successful wife of an Amway distributor. (Thank GOODNESS I saw the light on that one early!) The issues confused me, no one seemed to be a reliable source and I couldn't bring myself to read all the newspapers or watch CNN for more than five minutes.
But gradually, as I entered the world and the workforce and began realizing that those in office really could affect how I live my life, I started to take notice. As soon as my rights as a human and as a woman were in jeopardy, you're damn right I started to take notice. As I learned more about the nearly irreparable damage we've caused the earth (again, you know how I feel about the polar bears), I began to take a greater interest in politics. When I couldn't stand to hear the voice of the leader of our country, when I had no respect for him or belief that he had the best interest of the American people in mind, I knew that I had changed and that it was time to grow up and become involved.
The buzz about this year's election is enthralling. Forecasts suspect the highest voter turnout ever in our nation's history. Two capable and respected Democratic leaders vied for the nomination to run, a woman and an African American. And now the two are a united front, a force to be reckoned with, a team of level-headed, fair, intelligent and worthy politicians.
I am filled with equal amounts of hope and despair. I'm afraid to have too much hope... I dream about the elections at night. I've lost sleep. I look forward to November 4th, yet at the same time I fear it. Like a final exam that I believe the American people can pass, but I'm not sure if those that have a vision can carry those that haven't done their homework.
My hope is sprinkled with cynicism too. I'm not so naive as to think that Obama will be able to carry out everything that he has promised. He's only one man and while he shines to me like a beacon of hope, I know that he is no magician, no messiah of the White House. But I respect him, and that, my friends, means a lot. Charisma, intelligence, class, Obama's vision closely resembles my own. No utopia by any means, but a world in which my rights are not questioned. A world in which our young people have access to better education. A world in which we produce cleaner fuels and more and better jobs.
So here we are now, just 17 days away from election day and I'm not going to urge you to vote for Obama (although I hope that you will), but I do urge you to VOTE. If you don't vote, you are giving up any and all power that you hold as a citizen of this country. If you don't vote, you get what you deserve. Would you let someone else decide for you what you were going to wear, where you were going to work, what you were going to have for lunch and what friends you can have - every single day for the next four years? Of course not. Then why would you let someone else decide how much of your hard-earned money will be taxed, what rights your sisters, mothers, girlfriends have as women, where your healthcare is coming from and how much it's going to cost?
Yes, you are just one vote, but as my wise-beyond-her-years girlfriend says "I am only one voice, but I will shout from the rooftops and bring forth the echo of thousands."
I will listen for your echo on November 4th.
As a young adult, politics was right up there with the stock market - I had no understanding nor did I really want to take the time to gain it. None of it seemed to affect me in the least as I was studying in college and planning my future as the successful wife of an Amway distributor. (Thank GOODNESS I saw the light on that one early!) The issues confused me, no one seemed to be a reliable source and I couldn't bring myself to read all the newspapers or watch CNN for more than five minutes.
But gradually, as I entered the world and the workforce and began realizing that those in office really could affect how I live my life, I started to take notice. As soon as my rights as a human and as a woman were in jeopardy, you're damn right I started to take notice. As I learned more about the nearly irreparable damage we've caused the earth (again, you know how I feel about the polar bears), I began to take a greater interest in politics. When I couldn't stand to hear the voice of the leader of our country, when I had no respect for him or belief that he had the best interest of the American people in mind, I knew that I had changed and that it was time to grow up and become involved.
The buzz about this year's election is enthralling. Forecasts suspect the highest voter turnout ever in our nation's history. Two capable and respected Democratic leaders vied for the nomination to run, a woman and an African American. And now the two are a united front, a force to be reckoned with, a team of level-headed, fair, intelligent and worthy politicians.
I am filled with equal amounts of hope and despair. I'm afraid to have too much hope... I dream about the elections at night. I've lost sleep. I look forward to November 4th, yet at the same time I fear it. Like a final exam that I believe the American people can pass, but I'm not sure if those that have a vision can carry those that haven't done their homework.
My hope is sprinkled with cynicism too. I'm not so naive as to think that Obama will be able to carry out everything that he has promised. He's only one man and while he shines to me like a beacon of hope, I know that he is no magician, no messiah of the White House. But I respect him, and that, my friends, means a lot. Charisma, intelligence, class, Obama's vision closely resembles my own. No utopia by any means, but a world in which my rights are not questioned. A world in which our young people have access to better education. A world in which we produce cleaner fuels and more and better jobs.
So here we are now, just 17 days away from election day and I'm not going to urge you to vote for Obama (although I hope that you will), but I do urge you to VOTE. If you don't vote, you are giving up any and all power that you hold as a citizen of this country. If you don't vote, you get what you deserve. Would you let someone else decide for you what you were going to wear, where you were going to work, what you were going to have for lunch and what friends you can have - every single day for the next four years? Of course not. Then why would you let someone else decide how much of your hard-earned money will be taxed, what rights your sisters, mothers, girlfriends have as women, where your healthcare is coming from and how much it's going to cost?
Yes, you are just one vote, but as my wise-beyond-her-years girlfriend says "I am only one voice, but I will shout from the rooftops and bring forth the echo of thousands."
I will listen for your echo on November 4th.
October 9, 2008
October 7, 2008
Three goals!
I had three goals in my first hockey game Friday night. Unfortunately they didn't have any impact on the scoreboard.
Sipping a tall Shirley Temple at Red Lobster to calm my nerves, I decided to combat my competitive nature, my desire to be able to skate like Gretzky on my first time out and my looming disappointment when I inevitably fall flat on my face mask with a few, simple personal goals.
The first goal was one I have every time I step out onto the ice - don't fall. And while I skated the entire game without a spill I'm beginning to believe that it's not as worthwhile a goal as I first thought. Why be timid? I should just go balls out and see what happens. It's not like it's going to hurt...much.
My second goal was to keep my stick on the ice and my post-game aching lower back can attest to my success.
Thirdly, I'm a team player and I didn't want ALL of my goals to be ALL about me, therefore, my last goal was to make at least one good pass. This required stopping the puck with my stick, finding an open player in good position and successfully getting the puck to that person. Sounds easy, right? Except that it also required skating, stopping, and staying upright with other players rushing toward me. Panic was unavoidable but as I scooped the puck and it glided over the ice to meet the blade of my teammate's stick, I was satisfied with my performance.
One game and three goals down.... maybe next time I'll score one.
Sipping a tall Shirley Temple at Red Lobster to calm my nerves, I decided to combat my competitive nature, my desire to be able to skate like Gretzky on my first time out and my looming disappointment when I inevitably fall flat on my face mask with a few, simple personal goals.
The first goal was one I have every time I step out onto the ice - don't fall. And while I skated the entire game without a spill I'm beginning to believe that it's not as worthwhile a goal as I first thought. Why be timid? I should just go balls out and see what happens. It's not like it's going to hurt...much.
My second goal was to keep my stick on the ice and my post-game aching lower back can attest to my success.
Thirdly, I'm a team player and I didn't want ALL of my goals to be ALL about me, therefore, my last goal was to make at least one good pass. This required stopping the puck with my stick, finding an open player in good position and successfully getting the puck to that person. Sounds easy, right? Except that it also required skating, stopping, and staying upright with other players rushing toward me. Panic was unavoidable but as I scooped the puck and it glided over the ice to meet the blade of my teammate's stick, I was satisfied with my performance.
One game and three goals down.... maybe next time I'll score one.
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