bird by bird

It's Amy Poehler's birthday, so as tribute I'm posting some of my favorite nuggets of wisdom from the bossy smart girl. It was hard to narrow it down to three (like, really hard), but these are the three that really spoke to me today. I hope they speak to you too. “You know my code: hoes before bros. Uteruses before duderuses… Ovaries before brovaries." “Vulnerable people are powerful people. Opening your heart and sharing it means you’re going to get so much love in your life.”  “Girls, if a boy says something that isn’t funny, you don’t have to laugh.”

I didn't feel great this weekend, so I gave myself a pass to be lay-zee. I slept well, and I ate well. I was basically a 67 year old woman for two days, and it was glorious. I have no regrets. I made green soup, walked all over Brooklyn (in both rain and sunshine), and stood in line at the Post Office for an hour while I talked to EH on the phone. Saturday night I sniffed scented candles along side a hunched over old man in Target, and then I went home and painted my nails while watching the entire first season of Louie in bed. On Sunday I saw V from Orange is the New Black at the cafe where SS works, and I'm pretty sure a bird peed on only the very tip of my nose. (I know both things sound unlikely, but I swear that they happened). Sunday night I babysat, which really just consisted of watching Dumb and Dumber and eating a frozen burrito while a baby slept in the other room. I rode my bike back to my apartment with my bike lights flickering as I peddled down Dean street.

13 years ago, I watched on TV as the twin towers fell in a city 1,500  miles away.   As an American, it felt close. But as a South Dakotan, it felt very far away. 13 years later, that big, far away place is now my home. The people that 9/11 affected most are now my coworkers, my fellow commuters, my neighbors, my friends. This date has taken on such a new meaning for me, and it's hard to articulate the pride, respect, and gratitude I feel for those who keep me safe here every day. I'll never forget.      

“Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk — real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.”  ― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

My mom sent me this picture on Sunday while I was on a bike ride . I check ed my phone while I was stopped at a red light, and when I saw it, I clutched my phone to my che st , like it was a hug. Man, I love this little woman. 

On Friday night, SS, CS, and I and helped CH put in her new air conditioner in her new bedroom window in her new apartment in Prospect Heights. Afterward, we walked to Franklin Ave for pizza and sodas. The Yankees/Royals game was on an overhead TV, and Phish was playing on overhead speakers. A guy who looked like the prince version of the beast in The Beauty and the Beast ordered a slice to eat on a stool outside, and I swooned. He had dark, rusty hair that was pulled in a low pony tail at the nape of his neck. He was tall and wearing sneakers. He ordered pizza like a boss. Before we left, SS and CH were killer wing women and coolly attempted to give him my number. I waited outside around the corner while they asked about his relationship status first, and, as the story goes--he already has a Belle. This supports my theory that real princes are out there, but they're saving stools for someone else. Regardless, I'm glad they asked him, and I'm sure it made his night. The pi

You know when you have like 5 different kinds of leftovers in your fridge and some random vegetables that will go bad any day and so you sort of put it all together to make two days worth of the most random meals ever created to avoid letting any of it go to waste?? Or, wait, is that just me? Anyway, this post is sort of going to be that. I have so many starts of drafts and they are filling up space in my draft folder and in my mind. I'm  going to put them all out there, so brace yourself. Things could get weird.

And Nebraska really, really loves football.

I don't blog, and I don't blog, and I don't blog, and BAM.. one post all about the whole month. This is that. This is August. On August 1st I woke up to a text from my mom that said, "August is going to be your month. I can feel it!" Well... she was kind of wrong. August started out rough--I didn't get the job I had intervied for and really wanted, and DB moved away, and things just got messy and weird all over the place. But people hugged me and defended me, and Tylenol PM helped me sleep when I otherwise couldn't. SS told me I could have a pity party until my birthday party, and that's exactly what I did. A week and a half later, I put back on my big girl pants and turned 28. Turning 28 turned out to be pretty awesome! My bday celebrating spanned from a birthday surprise at work (with pizza from ELM!) to an impromptu Saturday afternoon picnic with a champagne/vitamin water cocktail with the girls. Saturday night I put on a pink slip dress (hel