Tag Archives: spring

It's finally spring

After flirting with the 40s and 50s all through the month of May, Chicago seems to have finally decided that tomorrow it will be springtime–Saturday is the beginning of an 8-day stretch (according to weather.com) that will be solidly rooted in the 70s and 80s. It’s a good thing, because I turn 28 this weekend and I did NOT want to celebrate in a near-freezing drizzle.

Skirts and shorts and capris, welcome back to my life! Furry winter legs, begone!

This weekend my plans are as follows: I will be getting my very first pedicure with my friend and bandmate Carrie, going on a birthday date with my husband, dealing with the overflowing laundry baskets (before they mutate and become a monster named Shrork or a monstress named Shrorquette), shimmying over to my in-laws where the word ‘grilling’ has been mentioned, and exposing my ivory skin to as much sun as possible so that ‘ivory’ can slowly transition to ‘pasty’, and ‘pasty’ can slowly transition to a mere ‘white’.

Did I ever tell you that a few weeks ago, when I wore capri-length yoga pants to my Capoeira class at the gym, a woman pointed at my pale, pale legs and burst into laughter? Then she started speaking loudly in Polish to her group of friends, who all turned towards me and laughed their heads off too. True story.

Adios amigos! I hope everyone has a great Memorial Day weekend!

The Blonde One

When we were growing up, my sisters and I envisioned a very similar future for ourselves. Small but odd details seemed to confirm that our lives would forever run in this special synch: across a span of many years, we all lived in the same dorm room at Indiana University (Forest A #418), we all majored in French, and we seemed to go through similar phases in the length of our hair. We would all have it long–then the impulse would hit and we would all cut it short.

Basically, we figured, our lives would be the same.

What the heck–we would probably end up living in the same town and having children at the exact same time. Or something.

During the past year and a half, this theory has completely fallen apart:

1. Heidi now lives in cold and isolated Fairbanks, Alaska. Erica lives in peaceful and quiet Fort Knox, Kentucky. I live in the loud and bustling city of Chicago.

2. I married a scholar; they both married army men.

3. Heidi had a baby within a year after getting married. However, four years her senior, I’m still in a fit of terror at the mere thought of a small being depending on me, pooping in any place other than a toilet, or thinking its nutrition has anything to do with the general area of my chest.

Our different paths really hit home during that roadtrip to Kentucky.

Oh my gosh, I thought. Erica and I are actually different people.

Who wudda thunk it.

She drives to Lowes to get fertilizer and plants flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever shopped at Lowes in my life, much less planted a flower.

She devises intricate systems of ropes and strings with which to hold up her window boxes. Window boxes? It’s a concept I don’t quite understand.

She has daffodils flanking her front porch. I have never even had a front porch.

She sweeps her steps in bare feet. If I ventured outside barefoot I would probably get broken glass, gum, or drug paraphenalia stuck in my feet within 0.5 seconds.

It’s a study in contrasts, alright.

However, we have arrived at our different locations for the same reasons: because of love. We all married godly, driven men whose careers have brought us where we are. We are all willing and eager to follow them wherever God leads. One happened to lead to a sleepy little town in Kentucky . . .

. . . one happened to lead to this windy metropolis.

I know that living different lives won’t drive us apart–our friendship will always be strong. It’s just weird to think that we may actually make different choices. Is that allowed?

But not to worry–wherever life leads us, our uncanny love of large bowls of popcorn indicates that there will always be a deep connection.

I love you, Blonde One!