daily bliss: NaBloPoMo, finis

image from Jim Nugent


I keep writing sentences to begin this blog entry, but they're all cliches, so away they go with a few strokes of my delete key...

I want to say that the month of June simultaneously flew and expanded, if that's even possible...

And it's partially chronicled here in my 33 June entries for NaBloPoMo, a wonderful exercise in mindfulness and discipline. An exercise that will likely spill over into the coming months as I've become accustomed to writing in this little text box at some point every day...

Whether brief entries written in under 10 minutes, posts co-written, or those longer, carefully crafted pieces that took more than two hours to write on quiet evenings and afternoons, I'm proud of them all.

In a moment of uncharacteristic scientificness, I catalogued said posts to catch the core of my blog. Some posts were difficult to categorize, and some categories clearly overlap:

Experience 12
Food 8
Reflection 6
Observation 2
Poetry 2
Miscellaneous 3

I like to think that all entries provide food for thought, a little window looking both inward and outward, and a brief moment of connection between writer, reader, and content. I (rhetor) thank you (audience) for helping me find and create meaning (purpose) on this little corner of the interwebs. Merci!

twd: perfect party cake, fresh berry variation

first attempt: june 2008

I first made this cake last year. And was absolutely smitten. My friends and I made quick work of the four layer nine inch cake, and I dreamed about the light layers, silky frosting, and layered berryness through a long, endless winter.

Imagine my delight when I read that Carol, of mix, mix...stir, stir selected the cake for our TWD baking group right at the beginning of local berry season. Positively providential, I say.

Berry bliss. Cake elation.

This time around, I made a full recipe, but divided the batter into two six inch layers and 8 or 9 cupcakes for two reasons:
1. Dessert control: berry season means shortcake and tarts and cakes and ice cream, and I kinda need to *not* eat such rich goodies more than once a day.

2. The great Dorie vs. Martha showdown: simple white cupcakes by each baking guru. Which are simplest to make *and* the most delicious to eat? I stowed Dorie's cupcakes in the freezer until the day in the future when I make Martha's version.

With a bevy of berries at my disposal, I planned to make the fresh berry version, which involves jam *and* a layer of fresh, sliced berries sandwiched between cake and frosting.

My baking began on Monday evening, when I made the cake layers, wrapped them tightly, and placed them in the freezer. On Wednesday night I made the jam, a quick berry and sugar jumble cooked until just thickened and then brightened with a splash of lemon juice. I was pleased with my forethought.

Late Thursday afternoon I removed the layers from the freezer and set about making the frosting. As I skimmed the recipe numbers jumped out at me, and I slowly remembered the time this frosting takes to prepare--a good 20 minutes. I glanced at the clock. I still needed to make and eat dinner, tidy up myself and my house, all before heading out to my colleagues' softball game. Not to mention assembling the entire cake. It was going to be tight. And then my brother L called after a week's silence and we chatted and my time window narrowed...


naked cake

Before we left for the game, I opened up the fridge so G could gaze upon the cake and (hopefully) declare it impressive and/or cute. (he did).


how cute am i?!?

And then, after watching my colleagues soar to softball victory on a balmy, perfect summer night, we set about eating the cake, to celebrate birthdays and Summers of Fun. Well, after the photo shoot, that is.


before we can eat cake, i must first make a photo (or two or five)

This baking/blogging business has a habit of both delaying the pleasure of eating and putting people on the spot.

"What do you think? How would you describe this cake?" I quizzed G.

"It's really very nice and good."

And, days later, when asked for a follow-up comment, "It was so strawberry-y."

And, truth be told, this cake is very berry. Deceptively light, with just the right level of sweetness. The silky frosting wants to melt in your mouth, and the lemon scented cake floats away on a cloud of creme fraiche filling. But above it all is that definite strawberry-y-ness. The sweetness. The berry goodness.



The cake is gone, only a memory, but a delicious, happy, sweet one at that.

daily bliss: summer fashion

Summer is my favorite time of year for clothing:

Floaty dresses. Mini-skirts. Super soft knit tees and tanks. White linen pants. Beachy hair. Hats. Straw handbags. Sandals. Flip-flops. Bright pink toenails. Sunscreen. Lip gloss.

As a sometimes follower of fashion trends, I noticed--with horror--that Summer fashions were skewing towards maxi dresses and skirts. Tiered prairie skirts. Voluminous shirts (read: looks like maternity wear even if the wearer is most decidedly not preggers). Gladiator sandals. To quote G (out of context), "ACK! GAH!"

A trip to TJMaxx with B last week revealed ever more fashion abominations, namely a strapless polyester jumpsuit, complete with a matching poly fringe trimmed belt. (which could, the tag proudly proclaimed, be converted into pants.)

(in the interest of "research," i tried on the aforementioned monstrosity...B and I laughed so hard we could no longer hear the strains of Miley Cyrus filtering into the dressing room.)

This past weekend I set out to chronicle the up-to-the-minute real life fashions of everyday people attending Summerfest in Milwaukee. I saw many a maxi dress and skirt, some so long they trailed on the dirty pavement. I saw many gladiator sandals. I saw quite a few dresses worn over capri leggings. These trend-followers, a minority, were scattered throughout crowds of eclectic sartorial display.

Among the delights:
* An older man sporting a bright purple mesh tank top (non-ironically)
* A youngish woman wearing a micro bejangled and bespangled belly dancing skirt
* Several elementary school aged kids with faces painted for the KISS concert ("Daddy, why are you painting my face? It isn't Halloween!")
* A young woman wearing white patent leather go-go boots, black and white horizontal striped tights, a tiny shiny white mini skirt, and a black pleather vest

Above all, the most popular item of clothing was the quippy-phrase-tee-shirt:
* Pain is weakness leaving the body
* Real Women Drink Miller Lite
* You can't drink beer all day...if you don't start drinking in the morning
* Life, liberty, and the pursuit of Happy Hour
* I like Beer
* Beer is Good
* Made in Wisconsin

(and, yes, i did keep my little notebook and pen handy to write down such sayings, with the help of my companions:)

And as for me? I may not have been the trendiest or best-dressed Summerfest attendee, but for the two days I wore summer clothes that made me happy:

Floaty dress. Sandals. Shorts. Layered tank and dressy tee. Straw bag. Pink toenails. Sunscreen. Lip gloss. Blissful smile.

daily bliss: summerfest

bands beers books and bliss
summerfest in Milwaukee
let's stay one more day

(co-written with ggg)

daily bliss: summer scrapes

There was always that moment during childhood summers when my bike would tumble sideways, spilling me on to the bumpy road, gravel digging into my knees. I'd ride the rest of the way home, with the ache and sting of the burn and scrape accelerating my pace.

This morning on the return one mile walk from my one mile jog, I gazed out at the lake, watching the sea gulls dip to the water for fish. Suddenly my foot twisted, as I stepped on the elevated ledge where the paved trail meets grass. I somehow wound up on the asphalt trail facing the opposite direction, having performed some crazy contortions to protect myself from the fall. I sat there for a moment, dazed. I glanced at my knees--scraped. Palms--slightly gravel burned, with a tiny bruise already forming. I rolled my ankles--no damage from the twist.

I stood up, turned around, smiled at the other walker who stopped to see if I was okay, and felt a little like a kid again, with the summer scars to prove a life lived fully, a life spent outdoors engaging with the real world. I walked home, my palms stinging, my knee bleeding, the sun still shining.

daily bliss: fireflies

A soft summer night...

Working in the garden as the sun settles behind the trees, out over the river. Fixing big salads with fresh garden greens, slicing local cheese and bakery bread. Pouring glasses of wine and beer. Listening to eight year old V's silly, smart stories, and feeling flattered that she wants to sit next to me. Eating and chatting and laughing into the darkness. Cutting slices of cake. Watching sphinx moths and the first firefly of the season flit around the table, searching for something. Turning the highbeams on as I drive home in the inky night, under the panoply of stars. Sipping green tea before I fall asleep, preparing for another day of fabulous summer fun...

daily bliss: my very first blog award

My friend and fellow blogger Revisionista so kindly awarded me the "one lovely blog award" two weeks ago and I haven't posted the award or the requisite six things that made me happy today list that accompanies the award...because I couldn't figure out how to transfer the award image to my blog. Yesterday I managed to work a little magic, and here it is--the image--and here they are--my six happy makers (from yesterday:)

1. A good night's sleep, finally. Central air really helps, as does a dark, dark bedroom and freshly laundered sheets.

2. A productive morning: 4 sun salutations, 2 morning pages, 1 blog entry, a 7 mile bike ride, a few emails and tweets and DMs, and some novel-writing thinking, all before noon.

3. Wearing my new super soft tank from the Target boutique ($8.99 brings so, so much happiness).

4. Eating strawberry shortcake for breakfast and Perfect Party Cake for a late night snack.

5. Listening to the new Regina Spektor album, which I downloaded from itunes after listening to her interview on NPR this morning.

6. Spending time (f2f, online, etc.) with all the good, kind, swell people in my life.

Thanks again, Revisionista, for this special award. Your blog is one of the loveliest on the interwebs:) Here are a few other blogs that I think are just lovely (pretty, funny, reflective, and delicious):

Wishokie of Midwest Magnolia
Nancy of The Dogs Eat the Crumbs
Cathy of The Tortefeasor
Wendy of PinkStripes
MacDuff of Lonely Sidecar
Teanna of Spork or Foon

daily bliss: strawberry shortcake

A classy tart of buttery crisp pastry, thick jam, and fresh sliced berries topped with whipped cream.

A light lemon scented white cake layered with jam and buttercream and whipped cream.

Fancy-ish. Special occasion-ish. (even if said special occasion is a warm Friday afternoon in June, with your favorite song playing in the background, and a few friends hanging around).

Strawberry shortcake is rustic in comparison, at least the way my Mom and I make it. A quick, simple biscuit-like cake, topped with sugar-laced sliced berries, and a soft mound of whipped cream. It's a treat fit for a late night snack in bed or an early morning breakfast on the deck. Or both.




Strawberry Shortcake
cake:
1 cup all purpose white unbleached flour
1 cup white whole wheat or whole wheat flour
2 tablespoons sugar
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup unsalted butter, cold, and cut into small pieces
1 cup milk

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Butter an 8 or 9 inch round cake pan.

Mix together dry ingredients in a medium sized bowl. Blend in butter using a pastry cutter or your fingers (my method of choice), until the mixture resembles course meal (like pastry). Add the milk and stir until just blended. Pat the dough into the prepared pan, and bake for 15-20 minutes until lightly golden on the top.

Cool slightly, cut into wedges, split, cover with berries and whipped cream.



berries:
Slice fresh, local strawberries and cover with sugar to bring out their juices and add to their sweetness. Add a hint of citrus juice if you'd like to brighten the flavors. Ideally, allow the berries to chill for 20 minutes or so.

whipped cream:
heavy cream (i prefer organic)
vanilla extract to taste
sugar to taste
a spoonful of greek yogurt

Pour cream into a bowl, add vanilla and sugar, mix with a hand mixer until the cream sets up to your desired texture. Fold in the yogurt for a creme fraiche-esque tang.

daily bliss: summer time

"That's how summer is: no past or future but all present tense, long twilights like vandals, breaking into new days. Yet it's the briefest of seasons, and what time there is in summer is carried forward by wind, by Boreas, god of the north wind, who, it's said, can blow out of two or more cheeks at once." Gretel Ehrlich, "Summer"

I'm a young girl, about ten or eleven. It's summer, the days stretching on forever, the soft, warm evenings casting an enchanting spell, and it seems the moment will never end. I'm helping my Dad plant many, many pine trees behind our house. We're sticking them into the beach sand, blown the two mile distance from Lake Michigan shores over ages, a glacial pace that only the land remembers.

These nights, and my afternoons outdoors, are a tonic to my fiction consumed self--I would read all day if I was allowed to, but my Mom, in her infinite wisdom, insists I leave the books and the interior world indoors. I head outdoors, twirling a baton, riding my bike up and down our driveway, and turning cartwheel after cartwheel, imagining an adoring audience, still spinning narratives in my head.

Some evenings we head to Lake Michigan, where we brave the cool water for the pure pleasure found in undulating waves. I lift my hands and jump through the surf, or my Dad pulls me over the waves in an inflatable boat as my Mom and baby brother wait on shore, dripping muddy sand castles.

When the sun finally sets and I head to bed, exhausted and sun drenched, sleep comes quickly and untroubled.

"The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation. The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace." Kate Chopin, The Awakening

I'm in high school, and then college, and Lake Michigan keeps pulling me towards the sandy shores, whether at our local beach or far away up North at H's parents' place. Early mornings, bright daytime, or twilight, I follow the contours where water ebbs, picking a path that flirts with the cool water, testing one toe, one foot at a time. I feel rocks slick under my feet. I feel worries dissolve. I feel answers and possibilities beckoning just beyond my sight. I know, somehow, though I haven't yet encountered the quote by Lao Tzu, that "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

"The present is the wave that explodes over my head, flinging the air with particles at the height of its breathless unroll; it is the live water and light that bears from undisclosed sources the freshest news, renewed and renewing world without end." Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

During late June, in the days surrounding the solstice, time stretches, as the daylight shimmers seemingly endlessly. Each day seems full of boundless possibility, and once again, I debate how to spend the unfurling moments. I could read an entire novel in one lazy afternoon: reclined on my couch, a cool glass of iced tea by my side, classical music lilting from the stereo, and an exquisite view of Lake Michigan sparkling a few blocks away. Then again, I could spend it in the kitchen, cooking batch after batch of strawberry jam I'll enjoy on the short days of the long, far away winter to come.

More often than not, though, I head outside, a glint of sunshine and a gentle breeze luring me to the deck, where I might read, write, or simply daydream the afternoon away.

On rare days, with the right company, I lose all sense of time and space, caught in the present: following the thread(s) of a meandering conversation set against the soundtrack of waves crashing against the shore, sea gulls cawing, and intermittent laughter; absorbing the sun's insistent rays, mindless of the spreading pinkness across my arms and legs and nose; forgetting to eat dinner, as I watch the color and light slowly fade from the sky, as day turns into night, and the horizon between lake and sky disappears.

"One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach--waiting for a gift from the sea." Anne Morrow Lindberg, Gift From the Sea

daily bliss: strawberries

Strawberries are my favorite fruit, and I eagerly await the short season every year. Supermarket berries simply cannot compare to luscious, local fruits, and I eschew fresh berries the rest of the year in anticipation of the goodness of a ripe berry just plucked from the fields.

When I was in Michigan visiting family last weekend, Mom and I took a trip over to the DeLange red berry farm to buy some berries. I also bought a pint of organic berries at the farmers' market. Laden with 2 quarts and 1 pint of berries, I returned home to Wisconsin with visions of berry wonders dancing in my head...

Dorie's Perfect Party Cake. La Pallette's Strawberry tart. Old fashioned shortcake.

I made the layers for the cake, and then promptly followed another kind of bliss to a day at the beach, leaving it unfinished.

I bought whipped cream for the tart and the shortcake...and may make them tomorrow...after I finish the cake.

What ever will I do with all these berry and butter and sugar and cream concoctions?!?

Eat them! Share them! Love them!

Strawberry season is fleeting, the berries at peak ripeness and flavor for such a brief moment of the year, that I eat them with abandon.

This morning, I ate a berry breakfast of yogurt with raw sugar and sliced berries, and a toasted english muffin with last summer's jam and local butter. Delicious.



To begin and end a day with strawberries...in June...this is happiness.

daily bliss: peonies

In spring, when lilacs bloom, I think of being in high school, all dreamy and interior in the way that some bookish, quiet girls are...I cut armfuls of lilacs from the bushes lining my parents' driveway and filled my room with vases of the graceful, fragrant blooms. As I fell asleep, I imagined being in a bower of flowers (such flights of fancy spurred on by obsessive reading and re-reading of L. M. Montgomery's Anne and Emily series). In the morning, the cloying scent of lilacs made it hard to breathe.



Lilacs still capture my attention, but these days peonies enchant my heart and imagination. I love the transformation from a tight, round ball to a full, overblown blossom. I love their scent--more nuanced than lilacs, with a top note of sweetness and a base note altogether more sultry and spicy. I love how they bend to the ground--like so many fallen angels--after a summer rain. I love their combination of delicacy and strength, of showiness and privacy.

I especially love the pink peonies--whether whisper soft pink or barbie-doll pink--so cheerful and happy.




And I love a $6 bouquet of peonies from the farmers' market when grandma's flowers are all disheveled after a *heavy* rain.

daily bliss: solstice

"we live in an old chaos of the sun..."

so writes Wallace Stevens in my favorite poem, "Sunday Morning."

and today is the day to celebrate all things sunny, and summer-ey, and magical.

if pagan celebrations at stonehenge are out of the question, you can consider celebrating as i have/plan to today:

awake to the sweet, sultry scent of peonies ever blossoming forth in a vase next to your bed...

decide to make the most of a quiet morning at your parents' home while they're away, visiting a friend in the hospital...

eat yogurt with honey and fresh, local strawberries outside, in your pajamas...

drive your mom's car to town, listening to the coffeehouse (acoustic singer songwriter, my *favorite* genre) and lithium (old school Seattle styled grunge)stations on her xm radio, with the sunroof open...

buy a bargain copy of Michael Perry's memoir Truck and Ralph Keyes The Courage to Write at Barnes and Noble...

order a medium skim cafe au lait and chocolate chip scone at your favorite local coffeeshop, and sit in the hot sun drinking, eating, and reading said Keyes book...

fill several journal pages with random musings, to-do-lists, and a little novel prose, after feeling inspired by Keyes to have courage to overcome (so many) fears...

walk along the muddy, swollen river, admiring a town that embraces wealthy Chicagolanders, gays, and Harley-ers equally and unconditionally...

browse artist galleries and think of color and flowers and dear, cherished landscapes...

finally write a blog entry you feel (mostly) happy to have written...

practice a few sun salutations on the shaded porch, until the mosquitos swarm...

don a bathing suit and head for the beach to walk, read, and sun...

wish your father and grandfathers a happy, happy father's day...

share a delicious meal and decadent dessert with your parents...

watch the sun slip over the horizon, over lake michigan, all the way to wisconsin, as the longest day of the year fades away...

gather your things, pack your bags, make a boat reservation, and prepare to leave one home for another...

listen to a few special songs, marvel at the cheery call of the whipporwill, drink in the fragrance of peonies, and drift off into sleep, dreaming of future goodness and more happy days to come...

daily bliss: summer saturdays

Summer Saturdays celebrate farm freshness...each day begins with a trip to the farmers' market, a cup of coffee, and a little socializing. When I'm visiting my parents, this means a trip to the Holland market, a cafe au lait from Lemonjello's, and spending the morning with my mom and running into my grandma, while we shop for the season's finest, freshest fruits and veggies. This morning was no exception. I bought a pint of organic strawberries, a pint of sugar snap peas, a box of potatoes, a bunch of Tuscan kale, and two zucchini to take back home with me. Later this afternoon we drove to a favorite berry farm and I bought two quarts of non-organic but tasty berries...

I'm dreaming of all my favorite berry goodness: shortcake, la palette tart, and, of course, Dorie's fabulous Perfect Party Cake, the fresh berry variation. Tomorrow I'll cook up a little jam, and on Monday when I'm back home I'll make the rest of the cake...

Today stretched out into endless sunshine, as I visited with aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins at my cousin N's graduation party...

And, tonight, after a dinner of grilled lemon pepper tofu, asparagus, sugar snap peas, and new potatoes with sour cream, mom, dad, and I headed out to the beach for a sunset stroll. The air was soft and humid, the sunset washed in pastels, the sand cool, and the lake Michigan waves gentle and steady. I walked, danced, jogged, and cartwheeled my way down the shore, happy in the moment...

daily bliss: summer storms

As we sit on the edge of the summer solstice (one of my favorite days of the year), thunderstorms rage across West Michigan...

Loud cracks of thunder, brilliant flashes of lightening, and intermittent downpours wash the world in vibrant green, contrasting with charcoal skies...

Inside, we celebrate my Dad's birthday with leggy wine, delicious dinner, and decadent chocolate chocolate cake...

People keep asking me what I'm doing this summer since I'm now officially *not* teaching a summer class (yay, yay, YAY!!!), and I say, "learning French. planning fall classes. writing two articles. working on my novel."

(it *sounds* a little better than what I'm *really* doing, which is hanging out, drinking wine, daydreaming, and being lazy. and loving every single, blessed, fleeting moment:).

Next week I'll attempt to bridge the public impressive line and the private guilty truth, but for now, I'm fixin' to listen to the storm rage outside and settle in for a little more relaxation, another glass of wine, and a few more words dabbled here and there...

daily bliss: by land and by sea

This past week has been filled with travels...

An epic journey to Iowa and back...

Miles disappear as laughter fills the car, and rolling hills dotted with silos provide a picturesque backdrop as Wisconsin merges into Iowa and back again...

A sail across mighty Lake Michigan...

"We're in the middle of a whiteout!" an excited, bearded, ponytailed man shouts to his family as the ship horn blows at regular intervals.

Down in the movie lounge, while animated vegetable men, mice, and princesses enact monomyth tales on the TV screen, I flit in and out of sleep...

H and I make a trip upstairs to peer out the window at a gauzy white world, the boat gliding in the middle of the sweet-water sea.

"Should we be worried?" I ask H.

"We're the biggest fish out here," H says.

We return to the darkened room where S is soundly sleeping, and watch as the animated film gives way to ESPN...

I try to remember seafaring tales and favorite moments from Moby Dick. I think about the camaraderie that arises on a floating home, how my inner balance constantly adjusts to the steady undulation of waves beneath my feet. I wait, increasingly impatiently, to feel terra firma, to spot the sandy dunes of Michigan rising above the water, and then, to see the smiling faces of my parents greeting my friends and me, welcoming me home.

daily bliss: looking at life through rosé filled glasses...

(guest bloggers tonight include: B, H, S, and H)

two best college friends visiting...



road trip...

wine club...

three pink mustaches..



m-town friends/colleagues...



garnache rosado, cinsault, and syrah...

kick off and end the night with saracco moscato d'asti...

happy, happy times in the Summer of Fun!!!

perfect scoop: coffee frozen yogurt

**no TWD this week, as I've been busy and traveling**

Last week out at the farm, T showed me how to make yogurt. Using some fresh, local raw milk, we concocted a huge pot of tangy, thick yogurt.

What to do with this bounty but make a little frozen yogurt? I opted for the coffee variation as a pleasant counterpoint to all the chocolate and vanilla ice creams hanging out in my freezer.

David Lebovitz's recipe is utter simplicity. I made a few tweaks here and there, and will include the recipe with my changes.

Coffee Frozen Yogurt
adapted from David Lebovitz's recipe in The Perfect Scoop

1 c. plain skim homemade yogurt
3/4 c. raw sugar
pinch of salt
3/4 c. heavy cream
2/3 c. brewed espresso (a lesser amount than Lebovitz calls for because of massive freezer spillage as I tried to rush the cooling process. bad idea, but the coffee flavor was still pronounced and good.)
1/4 tsp. espresso powder

Brew the espresso using a lovely little stove top espresso maker. Cool.

Combine yogurt, sugar, salt, cream, and espresso powder. Stir in cooled espresso. Allow to chill in refrigerator, then freeze in the ice cream machine.

Enjoy plain, with chocolate chip cookies, or fudge ripple sauce left over from previous experiments:)



**less than stellar photo quality because i waited until dark**

daily bliss: old friends and road trips

Late August, 1991. My stomach is trembling, my heart leaping, my eyes tearing, as my family drives the two and one half hours across verdant farm land towards my new home, A College, tucked in the middle of corn fields and more corn fields.

I walk down the hallway with the big dinosaur painted on the wall, an institutional key in my hand, and look of panic assuredly on my face, when a chipper girl wearing a striped shirt stops me.

"Hi! I'm H. Are you on this hallway? I live just down there! Welcome to A College! Can I help you with anything?"

Later on that week, the rest of the upperclassmen filter back, including E, who lives with F down the hall. I notice that she loves the color red.

April, 1992. A lazy afternoon during Spring Term, a halcyon semester of taking a single class (Musical Theater, the Gilbert and Sullivan show Patience. I'm the gopher girl and manager of sorts.)

"Wanna go play tennis? I bet Mr. Swanky and Mr. Suave are out there," my roommate N asks. "I invited S to come along--she's in the musical too."

We walk over to the courts and meet S, who is fun and funny, with a contagious zest for life.

Eighteen years later, and these ladies are among my best friends. While some of our group faded away into the shadows, and some of our pairings are stronger than others, S, H, E, and I have maintained solid, sustaining friendships.

There's vast comfort to be found in friends who were there for the heartbreaking homesickness of college. Who shared the BIG bottle of Piesporter on Halloween (when, in a lapse of judgment you all dressed up as sexy nuns). Who made regrettable fashion, hairstyle, and romantic choices alongside of you. Who grew up with you.

Who said goodbye as you moved 900 miles away to pursue an academic dream, and who came to visit during the balmy Alabama springs.

Who calmed your nerves before a job interview at yet another MLA conference.

Who offered up their home, and their parents' tranquil home on Lake Michigan, year after year, as places of respite and relaxation.

Who are your loudest cheerleaders and dearest friends.

***
Late last night, S and H arrived from Michigan on the ferry, spent the night at my home, and today we'll pile in the G6 for a trip across the rolling Dairyland, crossing the Mississippi River, and landing in Iowa, to visit E for a few days. None of us have seen where she and husband S live, and I've never even been to Iowa before. I can't wait for the miles to roll under the tires, and our conversation to ebb and flow across the highways.

I made a soundtrack for our trip, a mix CD of songs with memories (Bust a Move, some early 90s grunge) and summer songs of fun and happiness.

The greatest soundtrack of all is the distinctive sounds of my friends' laughter filling my car, as we wind our way to a reunion.

daily bliss: sibling silliness

Summers during college were stressful. Gone were the days of ultimate flexibility and freedom, of constant friend availability, of endless ice cream and lucky charm dinners.

And then, my little brother and his friends would hide around corners, poised with nerf guns, waiting to shoot me.

It was all a bit too much for my angsty-self-absorbed college student self to take.

***

Before the Milwaukee Brewers ball game yesterday, L and I meandered through the parking lot, looking for his college buddies who were tailgating. Random fans of both team persuasions smiled and laughed as we walked past, and the moment we found L's friends, we were welcomed with hand shakes and cold beers. Between playing washers and sharing drinks, they chatted with L, and I listened as they teased him about his *advanced* age of 26. I leaned over to L and whispered, "If anyone asks, I'm 28, 'kay?" He grinned and nodded.

Overheard snatches of conversation on the way to the ball park involved beer, food, baseball, driving. Besides the ubiquitous Brewers and Sox shirts, I saw one tee with a line drawing of Illinois and the text "Wisconsin: Illinois is beneath us."



***

We watched the game and the people around us, while soaking up the last bits of sunshine before our section descended into shade. I asked L about his time playing baseball in High School, about his buddies I'd just met. I drank about 3 inches of my giant beer before passing it on to L. I ate half a tub of salty, slightly singed popcorn.

***


By the top of the eighth inning, it was clear the Brewers were *not* going to pull off a win, so we headed out to beat the traffic of emptying parking lots.

As I stood in line in the bathroom, I noticed a young, very drunk girl, cutting in line in front of me, firmly clutching her bottle of beer, swaying and looking like she might not make it to the bathroom. I let her go.

Walking back to the car, overheard conversations were sharper edged, people a little less kind, as hours in the sun and hops kicked in.

We stepped over broken glass and smashed food remains, and L magically found my car.

As we slowly drove through the parking lot, we were attacked by a group of Abercrombie wearing college boys playing nerf football, deliberately throwing the ball and themselves in front of my car. As we pulled away from them, L and I let loose a stream of vitriol, and he confessed that he *almost* yelled out the car window or jumped out because he was so mad at this rude ambush of nerfdom. I smiled, glad that he didn't engage them (there were about 12 of them and two of us) *and* that he was outraged on my behalf.

***

We road tested my new road trip mix CD in between stints of classic rock, and car danced and air guitared and drummed the hour and a half back to my house.

***

L left this morning and I was sad to see him go. The house seemed quiet and lonely, and I felt, for a moment, a little less myself. There's something so comforting about really being yourself with other people, and my brother's one of those people who sees the dorky, silly, anxious me in all her glory. We've come a long way from sibling rivalry and nerf attacks, and settled into a sustaining friendship.

daily bliss: small town + city saturday

My brother L is in town this weekend to take in the Brewers vs. White Sox game at Miller Park this afternoon, and we started our Day of Fun with a trip downtown for coffee at M Coffee, a visit to the farmers' market, and a walk through the garden show.

Sipping lattes and mochas, we made the rounds of the market, and I introduced L to my vendor friends, and random community people I've met along the way.

I had high hopes for the garden show--I need a terra cotta pot or two for some small herb plants--but was disappointed at the array of embroidered sweatshirts, garden "art," and strange stone animals. L and I stood aside, joking about a small, disturbing, rock covered bunny, when L pointed out the slightly less disturbing frog. Ever the thoughtful sister, I offered to buy him one for his yard.

"Buy *12* frogs, what the hell!" a passerby said to us, as his wife shook her head in affirmation.

We laughed as we headed back to the car.

In a little while we're headed to She-town for lunch at Il Ritrovo (my brother's suggestion--he voted for food over beer tours!) and then down to Milwaukee to find his buddies for a little pre-game tailgating, and then the game itself.

It's going to be a fun-filled day!