So much for man's best friend

Let's just hope his bark is worse than his bite.



I normally love dogs. I grew up with a springer spaniel, Bandit, and later in life my parents had a Dalmatian, Lucky. I see my brother's dog, Bella, at least once (if not twice) a month. I have grown to love my friends' labs, setters, beagles, pugs, terriers, poodles, chihuahuas, collies, boxers, bulldogs, greyhounds, and mutts of all sizes. If we weren't always on the go, we'd get a dog. Most of them are loving, gentle, and playful. Yesterday was the first time I have ever felt threatened by a dog.

Around 7 a.m., as I was taking out the garbage in the back alley, I was startled by a loud (ferocious-sounding) bark. When I turned around, I was “greeted” not so pleasantly by our neighbor’s Rottweiler, Molly. (I only know her name because I hear the neighbors yelling at her so often.) She was growling/snarling at me (teeth bared and all) and within seconds I was cornered by my garage. My heart started racing. She did NOT look like she wanted to “play.” What do I do, what do I do? Wait here in the hopes that someone will be leaving for work and "rescue me"? Make a run for the house? Throw a dirty diaper at her head?

I had read somewhere that you’re not supposed to make eye contact, so I didn’t (making eye contact gives dogs the idea that you’re a threat). She kept growling and barking at me, which only elevated my blood pressure. I also remembered that you’re not supposed to panic. Animals sense fear. (I tried to stay calm but ohmygod was I freaking out inside.) I told Molly to “GO HOME!” a few times, hoping it would throw her off. I didn’t run away (I didn't want her to chase me) but instead stood perfectly still for what felt like forever, then walked, slowly, to the gate that was my refuge to safety. Amazingly, she kept her distance. Once I shut the gate, she sort of lunged for me and then, just as quickly as she'd run up on me, bolted off to terrorize someone/something else. In retrospect, I probably should’ve called the police. This isn’t the first time this not-so-friendly dog has been seen roaming around.

I was going to go right to work, but I thought I should warn Aaron and Adam. My hands were shaking so hard I could hardly unlock the front door. Once I was in my kitchen, I started sobbing. My nerves were shot. My heart was still pounding. Aaron was in the kitchen, getting ready to bring Adam to daycare, and I think I startled him more than Molly startled me. He consoled me like any good husband would. Adam looked at me with genuine concern in those big blue eyes and gave me a sympathetic smile (maybe that was just my imagination, but it’s a nice thought that he might have sensed my distress and tried to make me feel better.) It took me awhile to regain my composure, but after a minute I stopped shaking. I was still wiping tears from my eyes as I drove to the park and ride. Aggressive dogs scare the crap out of me. And there’s no shortage of aggressive dogs in our neighborhood. On our half-mile walk to Lake Phalen, we pass two Rotts and two Pit Bulls. They sound like they want to rip your throat out when you walk by.

The good news is, I survived to tell the story. The bad news is, not everyone does. Here are some pointers on what you should do, should you ever be cornered by a big, mean dog (and I truly hope you never are!), courtesy of “How to Handle a Dog Attack:"

Most dogs are not aggressive but rather just curious or defending what they perceive as their territory. It is important to be able to tell if a dog is just playing or is being truly aggressive.

* If the dog approaches you with its head held high or low, it is probably not going to attack. A dog whose head is level means business.
* A loping gait means the dog is playful and checking you out. An even, steady run means business.

If the dog lunges, place a direct hard kick to the chin, that can stop even a big dog in mid-lunge. If you miss, then protect your face and neck. If the dog is now biting you, poke the dog in the eyes as hard as you can with fingers/thumb, ... do it again -- harder! Judo chops may be easier and more effective than fists at hard angles up close.

If the dog is biting, the last thing you want to do is struggle or pull away, as this can cause open, torn wounds. If you stay still and protect your ears, face, chest, and throat, the dog will only be able to inflict puncture wounds on areas of your body that have thicker skin.

If the dog is biting someone else, do not pull the victim away for the very same reason. Try to force your arm in the dog's mouth. Push your arm in forcefully towards the throat to minimize damage to yourself. If you have time, wrap your arm in a shirt or jacket first.

If the dog bites you, remember that one of the most sensitive spots on a dog is his eyes. A quick jab in the eye will seriously disorientate a dog, allowing you more time to defend yourself.

Year in Review

Aug. 11 marked one year since Adam arrived. A YEAR. Happy birthday, Baby Boy!

In some ways it seems like a year, in other ways it seems like just yesterday. I can remember— with crystal clear accuracy—various details, while other “milestone moments” are a complete blur. It’s a good thing I recorded events in Adam’s baby book.

I recapped the "Year in Review" with photos, but for this post I'm going to go even further back than that, to when Adam was a teeny, tiny bundle of cells.

After writing a series of stories on infertility at the newspaper, I realize now that all of the stars basically have to be aligned in order to conceive a child, and I feel very fortunate that I didn’t have any problems getting pregnant. And even though Aaron and I were ready to have a baby, I was definitely in denial about being pregnant right up until I peed on the stick. Even when a plus sign showed up—as obvious as obvious could be—I read the directions about 100 times thinking it might be due to some fluke. (Lots of info about false negatives, not so much about false positives.)
Once I was able to comprehend the fact that we had created life (this still amazes me) I had a fairly textbook pregnancy, no morning sickness, headaches, back pain, or severe swelling. I ate pretty much what I wanted, with the exception of those few foods all pregnant women should avoid like fish (high levels of mercury can cause brain damage in a developing fetus), deli meat (Listeriosis, a form of food poisoning, can harm the fetus) and soft cheeses (unpasteurized cheese can harbor bacteria). I didn’t go through any sort of caffeine or nicotine withdrawal since I don’t drink coffee or smoke, and I didn’t really miss my friend Alcohol like I thought I would. I felt BEYOND tired those first few weeks—not just your run-of-the-mill tired, but the “I’m recovering from the worst hangover of my life and I could sleep for a week” variety of tired—but that’s a common complaint during the first trimester. Nothing out of the ordinary. The worst part of pregnancy for me was the mental anxiety. I became a pro at playing the dreaded “what if” game. What if there isn’t a heartbeat? What if my baby has a developmental issue? What if I have gestational diabetes? What if I’m put on bed rest? What if the baby arrives too soon? What if, what if, what if. I drove myself insane. Aaron finally had to tell me to stop obsessing and chill out. I couldn't stop thinking about my good friends who had suffered miscarriages and my college friend who went through the devastating heartbreak of losing a nearly full-term baby boy (due to a knot in the umbilical cord). But if it's going to happen, it's entirely out of our control, Aaron rationalized. All we can do is make healthy choices and hope for the best. And if something does happen, we will lean on each another, grieve our loss, then move on and try again. Yes, yes, yes, I knew that. But with every passing week I grew more and more attached. It was our baby, but it was my body, and I couldn’t escape my irrational fears. They followed me everywhere.
I felt like a manic depressive when Aug. 4—my estimated due date—came (woo hoo!!! The magical date had finally arrived!) and went (more waiting).
Adam finally arrived on Aug. 11, 2007, exactly one week past his due date, also known as The Longest Week of my Life. I'll spare you the details about my labor and delivery, but I will say—for anyone who wonders what a “real” contraction feels like—let me put it bluntly: It’s a sharp, intense pain that radiates through your stomach before hardening into a ball around your baby. You cannot have a conversation while having a contraction. It’s about a million times worse than a menstrual cramp.
Also? Bring music and Chapstick to the delivery room, and GET AN EPIDURAL.

Adam was 7 lbs. 10 oz. and 21 inches long with dark hair and olive-colored skin and a cute button nose and my dad's chin and MY GOD he was beautiful. The nurse cleaned up our baby before tightly wrapping him in a white receiving blanket and placing him on my chest. When Adam stared at me and let out a loud wail, I started crying. I looked up at Aaron and realized he was crying too. It was all so much to process. We were weeping out of happiness (we had a baby!), and a little bit of fear (we had a baby!), and because that beautiful, healthy little boy was our SON.

“I had a good life
Before you came
I had my friends and my freedom
I had my name
But this love is like nothing I have ever known
Come with me, son
I’m taking you home”

What a year it's been since that amazing day. And even with sleep deprivation, a ridiculous nursing schedule (every two hours), pumping at work, skipping out on happy hours, and basically adjusting to the "new normal," I have no regrets. It's been a wonderful year of milestone moments (Was that a smile? Did he just roll over? Look! A tooth! Now that we've weaned him to regular formula, is that a rash!? What? He's allergic to cow's milk? Let's see how he likes baby food. He's sitting up! When is this kid going to crawl? What do you call that? Adam, you like to splash in our tiny sink, why won't you splash in a giant swimming pool? He's flirting with another pretty girl! He's chasing the cat! He's dancing! He's crawling on all fours! He said "Mama, Dadda, Kitty, Nigh-Nigh, Bye-Bye!" He's pulling himself up!) and on and on.
I'm proud to be Adam's mom, and look forward to many more milestone moments in the future. This is only the beginning.

Sonic Boom

Not a whole lot of people venture to St. Paul’s East Side for dinner, but that’s exactly what Aaron’s former boss and current coworker are willing to do this evening in order to check out the first Sonic drive-in. They’ve been so excited about eating here I swear it’s been on the calendar for 6 weeks. Forget gang activity, horrible assaults, murders, drug deals, drive-by shootings, and drive-by eggings (I was the victim of an attempted drive-by egging while running around Lake Phalen two summers ago, luckily the punk-ass teenagers had terrible aim. I couldn’t figure out where those golf balls were coming from—where was the nearest course?—until one of the “golf balls” exploded in a goopy mess on the trail ahead of me), now there’s a reason to show my East Side Pride! We have the FIRST Sonic in the entire state, and it’s practically in my backyard! Cherry limeades, Tater Tots, and big, juicy burgers, here we come!

Reflections

I was looking through old journals recently and realized, with sadness, that I started writing about my weight starting when I was 15. I went from 118 to 130 pounds between my freshmen and sophomore years in high school (after I quit the cross-country running team) and apparently thought I was a blimp. Here are a few things I wrote: "Nobody understands how I feel about my body. I HATE it. And when I'm not hating it I'm trying to ignore it." "How did I gain so much weight in one year? I'm two inches taller but that's still no excuse." "I used to be skinny. Now I'm HUGE."
"Why is thin so NECESSARY?"
Fast-forward 18 years and I still wonder that.
I work in a department dominated by weight-conscious women (a former coworker would watch us eat with longing in her eyes and drool practically collecting in the corners of her mouth to the point that no one wanted to eat around her) and the majority of the women in my life—close friends and family—seem to struggle with accepting their bodies. I admit, I'm one of the worst. For this reason alone, I'm glad I had a boy. I once read a statistic that 80 percent of fourth grade girls have tried some type of diet. We're talking 10-year-old girls. I'm sure many (most?) girls learn to accept or reject their bodies based on their mother's perceptions of weight. And of course it doesn't help that we're constantly subjected to images of rail-thin women in the media. It's not easy being a girl in 2008, and it wasn't easy being a girl in 1990, and I'm guessing it won't be easy for the daughters of my friends in the year 2020. I'm sure Adam will have his own adolescent issues, but I have a hard time believing they'll be too focused on his weight. (Unless he's a wrestler.)
Why are we women so hard on ourselves?
I have a friend who is GORGEOUS, the kind of girl who turns heads whenever we're together (and is so genuinely modest she doesn't ever seem to notice all the men admiring her). Most women would KILL to look like her, she is that pretty, and I recently discovered that she won't wear shorts or capris—even when the temps are in the 90s—because she hates her knees and "cankles."
I have another beautiful friend who, in my opinion, has a better body than some celebrities and she hates the way she looks because of her flat chest. She eats healthy, she works out (she recently competed in a triathlon), she doesn't smoke, she rarely drinks, she's long and lean and looks amazing whenever I see her. I don't notice her lack of a rack but she jokes about it all the time, I'm guessing to cover up her insecurities.
I have another stunning friend who obsessively watches what she eats and carefully removes the OLIVES from her martinis because of the "added calories."
I have wonderful, smart, amazing friends and it makes me incredibly sad to think of how we've abused our bodies ... the same bodies that went on to create lives, deliver babies, and provide those babies with milk and nourishment.
One friend used to chew her food and spit it out so she could "get the taste without commitment," one used to eat nothing more than a bagel and an apple a day, and another has been on more diets than I could ever possibly count. She's tried WW, Jenny Craig, diet pills, a crazy cabbage soup diet, no carbs, no sugar, and on and on. I think she's perfect just the way she is, clearly she doesn't see herself the same way.
I struggled with my own eating disorder when I was living with a guy who paid more attention to other women than he did me. Thankfully I met my husband right around then. I will always be grateful that he saved me from myself. I can still picture the two of us sitting outside after work one day. When I confided in him about what I had been doing, he kneeled down in front of me and took my hand in his, sadness and concern in those big green eyes, and asked, "Don't you realize how beautiful you are?"
Just one of the many, many, many reasons I love him so much.

Rock and ROLL!

I am convinced that Adam is the fastest little roller in the Midwest. It’s kind of comical to watch, but he gets where he wants to go. He even rolled his little body right off our bed once. I was in the shower when it happened. When I left the bedroom, both Aaron and Adam were sleeping peacefully. When I returned, I saw Aaron on the bed and no trace of the little guy. My first reaction was that Aaron had rolled over ON TOP of Adam and was suffocating him. (We aren't big fans of the family bed, but right now the crib isn't working out so well.) I heard a noise and looked down, and there Adam was—lying face-up on the ground (on a pillow, thankfully. I had set two pillows next to the bed "just in case"), his pacifier was flung a few feet away, and he was smiling and babbling like he hadn’t just plummeted three feet to the ground. I screamed “AARON! ADAM FELL OFF THE BED!” so loud I’m sure I woke the neighbors. Aaron popped up, all disoriented, and bolted over to my side of the bed, where Adam was now staring at us, wide-eyed and innocent, like, ‘What’s the big deal?’ And ‘Hey, it looks different down here. And what’s that under the bed? Is that a big ball of dust? I should try to eat that.’
I personally think Adam enjoyed rolling off the bed. And that scares me. I don’t want him to be an adrenaline junkie dare-devil boy who has no fear. Next thing ya know he’ll be jumping out of planes or scaling Mt. Everest. If he's all about the risks and dares, high speeds and great heights and all that, put me out of my misery now because I will surely have a heart attack worrying about him in the future.

Besides rolling and walking with our help, he also points up to the “birdie” (or whatever word you use in that high-pitched baby voice), rips up Kleenex, or tissue paper, or napkins into many, many tiny pieces when given the chance (then tries to eat the paper), gives high-fives, bangs two wooden spoons against an overturned pot while taking baths in our kitchen sink (a future Ringo?), eats leaves and grass (his daycare provider has resorted to putting him in an exersaucer when the kids are playing outside because of the sheer amount of grass he ingests while sitting outside on a blanket), and claps his hands in excitement. His problem with clapping is that he doesn’t realize when he’s supposed to clap. Like last night, it was 3 a.m. and he was wide-awake, clapping.
Aaron and I also think he said “mama” when he was crying on Monday morning, but we’re not positive. He said it as clear as a bell on Monday, while stretching his arms out to me (I was leaving for work) and hasn’t said it since. When do most babies first start talking? My sister-in-law Amy’s super cute daughter Morgan, who is a few weeks older than Adam, can say duck, but then again, Morgan does everything long before Adam figures it out. Further evidence that girls are naturally smarter than boys?   

Adam has been a regular fan at our softball games, where he's a big hit with a few of the players. They play with him after the game (a favorite of Adam's is Uncle Shawny's "Five, four, three, two, one" rocket launch), and take turns holding him at the restaurant, which gives me a chance to drink my beer and eat my waffle fries and seasoned sour cream without worrying about him pulling things off the table. Aaron and I appreciate the extra help (Dileepa and Jodi are especially fabulous). My work friend/fellow SWAT player Kylie likes to say that Adam looks like a Cabbage Patch Kid. I agree. He does look like a CPK (minus the Xavier Roberts butt stamp). It's those big eyes and chubby cheeks; round head and sweet smile. He is so dang cute! Does that make me sound conceited? I don't care. He is adorable. Plus he's a happy baby, and he’s a chunky baby, and with that combo you almost can’t go wrong. (Skinny, crabby baby vs. jolly, chubby baby? Which would you rather hold?)

His hair has turned more blonde now than when he was first born, and there’s a slight curl when the back of his neck gets a little sweaty. Don’t ask me how Aaron and I wound up with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed child. (Aaron’s eyes are green and mine are brown.) So much for the punnett square I learned in genetics class.

I still take Adam with me everywhere. We're a good team. He seems to know he's in familiar surroundings at Target, Byerly’s, and Maplewood Mall. He even sits in the front of the cart now, his little legs dangling down, his body twisting every which way, rather than in his car seat INSIDE the cart. Knock on wood, but he has yet to make a scene while we’re out in public.

People have been asking Aaron and I (a lot) lately when we’re going to try for Baby Number 2. I used to tell people we’d start trying when Adam was a year old, but now that he’ll be a year old in mere WEEKS, I’m starting to rethink my readiness. Being pregnant for 40 weeks is a long-ass time, and I’m not looking forward to constantly worrying about the baby’s development in utero, followed by sleepless nights and never-ending feeding cycles, not to mention the sheer work of caring for two little ones. I mean, we’re just NOW getting into a steady groove, nearly 11 months later. Are we ready to change everything? How will we afford two kids? Can we love a second child as much as we love Adam? Wait. I already know the answer to that one. Yes. The heart has a limitless capacity to love. There is always, always, always more love to go around.

Loves the ceiling fan; terrified of the vacuum

Adam is nearly 10 months now and has officially spent more time outside of my womb than inside it. He's still very social, and transportable, and happy, happy, happy. He weighs 20 pounds (50th percentile), is average for height, and is starting to go blonde. His eyes are big and round and a beautiful shade of blue and chipmunks ain't got nothin' on those cheeks. He still enjoys traveling, which works well since I like to be on the go, and readily accompanies me (without fussing) on trips to Byerly's, Target, the mall, or local restaurants. He's in his element when he's able to people-watch. He is a very curious boy.
He now waves goodbye, gives kisses and hugs, points (his newest infatuation is ceiling fans), can roll a ball back and forth, shakes his head no, claps his hands, likes playing with buttons, bracelets, tags, and the faucet (we give him a bath in the kitchen sink), throws himself backward when sitting on laps (this one worries me. What if he does this when the adult holding him isn't prepared for it and flings himself onto a concrete patio or something?), drinks from a cup, scarfs down Cheerio's and Gerber's Fruit Puffs like they're the best-tasting treats in the world, loves playing peekaboo, listening to Raffi, and making a mess of his bath water, shakes with excitement when he sees "the kitty" (Pip), and trembles with terror when he sees our vacuum (I had the vacuum sitting in the living room last night and he couldn't relax until I put it "away" in the porch. For about five minutes afterward, he kept nervously glancing over his shoulder to see if it was still there), babbles—all the time—in his secret baby language, and has two laughs: the fake-sounding laugh (yeah, Mom and Dad, those ridiculous faces you're making are really funny) and the full-bodied chuckle (Stop! Tickeling! Me! Can't! Stop! Laughing! Getting! The! Hiccups!)
He's still not slithering on his belly or crawling on all fours, and I'm OK with that. It's sort of convenient not having to worry about him sticking those chubby little fingers in a light socket or eating the corner of a magazine page when I leave the room for a second. I might as well enjoy this lazy phase while I can. I mean, it's not like he's NEVER going to figure out how to get around (Right?)
His daycare friend, Zander, is two weeks older and is army crawling all over the place, he even crawls OVER Adam sometimes (like he's a bump in the road). You'd think Adam would be inspired watching his buddy zoom around the room, yet he remains unfazed. He's perfectly content to sit on the floor, surrounded by toys, waiting for the older kids to bring him what he needs. When he pays ANY attention to Zander, it's with a look on his face that seems to say, "Big deal. You can crawl. I'm so not impressed. Dude, you're totally wasting your energy." (Oh, he is so his mother's child.) When he's feeling really ambitious, he rolls from Point A to Point B, or pulls a corner of the floor blanket toward him to bring a toy closer, or bends way, way down, so his chin is nearly touching the floor from a seated position, to extend his go-go-Gadget arm in search of a certain object. He's more flexible than Mary Lou Retton. It's very impressive.
He's also in the "fling" stage of development, where he likes dumping toys out of containers and throwing them, particularly while in his exersaucer or at a restaurant. Especially at restaurants.
I kiss him all the time, constantly tell him how much I love him, and can't wait until 4:45 every day when I pick him up from daycare. When he realizes I'm there, he looks up at me with a huge grin on his face, reaches for me, then, once safely in my arms, nuzzles his face into my neck. It is such a tender moment. My insides turn to mush every time.

This spring, Adam also:
• gave me a reason to celebrate my very first Mother's Day as a mom
• graduated from his six-session "Water Babies" class
• was baptized at St. Mark's
• was diagnosed with croup (a virus leading to harsh, repetitive coughs that sound like a barking seal)
• battled through his first ear infection (his temp spiked to a scary 103.3 and he was very lethargic and whiney, poor little guy)
• sprouted a few teeth (probably related to the ear infection)
• welcomed his newest cousin, Logan Joshua, into the world on May 20
• went to Como Zoo for the first time with Auntie Tonya, Megan, Karla & Greta. (Loved the fish tanks, was sort of indifferent to the rest of the animals.)
• hung out with Grandma Patti so Aaron & I could go on a movie & dinner date one night & play SWAT softball another evening. We appreciated the opportunity to play softball together, rather than taking turns.
• had a slumber party in Forest Lake with Grandma & Grandpa S. so we could go to a friend's wedding up in Hinckley. (It was the first time both Aaron & I spent the night away from our little boy.) We missed him, but we all did just fine. To be honest, I don't think he even realized we were gone, he was having such a good time.
• spent a fun day/evening with his godparents, Uncle Shawn & Auntie Trish, while Aaron & I went to a friend's wedding in Wayzata. There was only one couple at our table who didn't have kids (I'm sure they REALLY enjoyed our conversations about breastfeeding, little boys "finding" their units, and thumbs vs. pacifiers). Five years ago we would've been appalled by those conversations. Ah, yes, times have changed, my friends. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

100 things about me

Long list ...

1. My mom said I used to love pouring Kool-Aid for the parents when I was in preschool. I've been social ever since.
2. We had a Springer Spaniel named Bandit while growing up. He was black and white and very naughty. In college my parents got a Dalmatian puppy, Lucky, who I grew to love despite his hyper personality. I get a little sentimental whenever I see a Dalmatian now. If we ever get a dog, though, we’d get a lab or golden retriever—and hopefully a mellow one!
3. I love this quote: "Sometimes courage doesn't roar. Sometimes courage is a quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow."
4. I would love to visit the East Coast. The farthest east I’ve been is Florida, which is really more south. Some day I would like to visit New York, Boston, DC, and Maine.
5. I play either first base, second base, or left center on the SWAT softball team. I've been playing ball for as long as I can remember. I'm not good, but I'm not terrible, either. I can hold my own.
6. I love dressing up on Halloween, and I'm proud to have friends who are equally creative and will get into that holiday, too.
7. My favorite beer is Alaskan Amber. A close second is Summit EPA or Leinie's Honeyweiss (with lemon). Nothing tastes better on a hot summer day.
8. I love going to plays. I love the whole ambiance of theaters. I even dabbled in acting—playing the lead in the community theater production of "Maggie" in sixth grade. I played a troubled girl who escaped by living in a fantasy world. I shot my mom at the end. There were kindergarten classes watching. It was very controversial.
9. I went by Christina in third grade because my friend Annie told me "Chrissy is a baby name" and I figured Christina sounded more grown-up. In fourth grade, it was back to Chrissy.
10. I have a little bit of lead in my right hand from accidentally stabbing myself with a #2 pencil when I was in ninth grade. Aaron also has pencil lead in his hand. We were meant to be.
11. I love a good thunderstorm, as long as I’m home and my loved ones are with me.
12. I bowled a 160 when I was pregnant. First and last time that ever happened!
13. I can bait my own hook, but hate taking the fish off the line.
14. I'm Swedish, German, Norwegian and French.
15. I'm not very good at decorating. Or cooking. Martha Stewart would be appalled.
16. I saw Mitch Hedberg perform in Seattle a year before he died. He was hilarious.
17. I have worked at Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Chi Chi’s, Applebee’s, and Jake’s Sports Cafe. I am always nice to fast food employees and I tip 20 percent when a server deserves it.
18. I admire authors Lorrie Moore, Louise Erdrich, Alice Sebold, Stephen King, Amy Tan, and Jonathon Hasselford.
19. My grandpa had skin cancer, so I'm very careful to always wear sunblock.
20. I think roses are cliché. I would rather receive brightly colored wild flowers.
21. As hard as I try, I can’t do the crawl stroke in a straight line. When I'm in a swimming pool, I’m all over the place like a drunk fish, so I usually just do the sidestroke instead.
22. I would rather go on a double date with my parents than anyone else.
23. I believe in karma.
24. I can’t drive a stick shift. What if there’s an emergency and the only car available is a five-speed? I better learn.
25. One of my favorite smells is a bonfire. Reminds me of camping. I love camping.
26. I’m absolutely terrified of flying. I think about crashing and dying 80 percent of the time the plane is at cruising altitude. If there’s turbulence, forget it. I silently stare out the window and pray, consumed with worst-case scenario thoughts. Yes, I’m aware that the chances of dying in a plane crash are one in 11 million. That statistic doesn’t help calm my nerves.
27. I have a full-blooded sister, Mary, who my mom gave up for adoption back in the 70s. She found & contacted my parents when I was 18. Today we're close friends. Aaron & I are her youngest son's godparents.
28. I won a spelling bee in fifth grade and moved on to the regional spelling bee. I missed the word pennant.
29. My college photography professor asked me if I was wearing my glasses when I took photos because my pictures were always slightly out of focus. I was embarrassed to admit that yes, I was wearing my contacts, I was just that bad.
30. My first boyfriend, Brian, aka “BP,” taught me a lot about what I wanted in a relationship. We dated for five years (high school and college). He taught me how to appreciate “good” beer (Summit), alternative music (Beastie Boys! 808 State! Social D!), live on the edge, and find meaning in the little gestures. He took me to prom, helped me buy my first bike (RIP trusty Gary Fisher, sorry that my little brother Nick ran over you), taught me how to mountain bike in Hayward, introduced me to Urban Outfitters, Figlio, Davanni's and Cheapo Records, and took me to some crazy Minnesota parties. He was always very supportive of my writing, and encouraged me to chase my dreams. I’ll always have a soft spot for him, but we’re so much better off as friends.
31. I only gave blood once in high school. I wish I could do it regularly, like Aaron, but I get too queasy. (I tried to donate blood in college and they turned me away. They thought I was anemic. I’m not.)
32. I like touring Victorian-era homes, just like my mom. There's something romantic about that time in history.
33. I can talk to just about anyone, just like my dad.
34. I would rather wear pants, capris, or jeans than skirts or dresses. The one exception is weddings.
35. I just recently learned the value of keeping secrets.
36. I do not believe in a condemning God. I believe that God loves and accepts everyone, gay or straight, rich or poor, black or white. Aaron & I recently started going to a Lutheran church in my old neighborhood. It's the first time in a long time I enjoy going to church again.
37. I used to care a lot about celebrity gossip. I don't care that much anymore.
38. The first boy I slow danced with was Mike D. We danced to “I had the time of my life” from the movie Dirty Dancing. We stood about four feet apart. I was sweating and nervous. He was silent. It was not romantic.
39. I prefer a glass of white over a glass of red.
40. I can polka. And do the time-step, Roger Rabbit, Electric Slide and Macarena. I love dancing at wedding receptions.
41. When I was a brunette, two different men told me I looked like "Roz" from the TV show Frasier. Someone also told me once that I looked like Linda Blair from the Exorcist. (Don't worry. My head doesn't spin in circles.)
42. I own a lot of colorful bracelets and a collection of shot glasses.
43. I was on the track team in college. I competed in the 200-meter dash and triple jump. There are some days when I really miss it.
44. My first car was a 1993 Toyota Tercel wagon. I called him "Big Daddy."
45. I love the expression “Ever see a U-Haul behind a hearse?” In other words, you can't take it with you when you go. Material things don’t make the soul whole. Why does our society place so much emphasis on things, anyhow? It drives me crazy.
46. I like dark red polish on my toenails; no polish on my fingers.
47. My favorite children’s book is “Charlotte’s Web.” My mom loves that book, too. She even wanted to name me Fern.
48. My second love was JJ. He taught me that everyone has a story to tell, to never pass judgment until getting to know someone, to see the good in the most dire situations. He also taught me to really appreciate my family, and introduced me to some awesome ska bands and the art of making "good" coffee. He showered me with compliments and made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. I loved him intensely and actually felt sorry for people who didn't have our same spark. He went so far as having my birthday tattooed on the back of his neck in the form of a bar code. At some point I realized he was never going to grow up and I couldn’t live in his dream world forever. When we broke up, he told me his tattoo signified “the day his best friend died.” Right around then Aaron entered the picture & my life changed forever.
49. I ran a 10K race in Green Bay during the summer of 2006. It made me consider doing a half marathon. Maybe some day ...
50. My favorite lunch items: chicken wraps, Chipotle burrito bowls, Greek salads (no red onion), vegetable fried rice, and pasta salad. I could eat pasta salad every day in the summer.
51. I was a staff reporter/editor at Lillie Suburban Newspapers for five years and made some wonderful friends while working there. My favorite story was the day I shadowed a prison guard at the Stillwater maximum security prison. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to wear open-toe shoes and wore sandals. It was creepy how much the inmates stared at my painted toenails.
52. My mom taught me more about being a nice person and having good manners than she did about beauty. Her biggest lesson? Beauty comes from within. I'm glad I learned this at a young age.
53. I learned to snowboard in 2003. I learned on Mount Hood while living out in Portland, Oregon, with my best friend Tonya. We moved to Oregon with no jobs, no housing, and no friends. It turned out to be the adventure of a lifetime.
54. I like playing board games, but I'm not a big fan of card games, unless they involve drinking.
55. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt.
56. My favorite TV show is The Office.
57. I lived with seven girls in college. Miraculously, we're all still friends today and get together at least once a year.
58. My “string sisters” are Megan, Karla, Amy, and Tonya. We received that nickname in high school after another friend told us we were “together so much, it was like we were connected by an invisible string.”
59. I feel blessed to have met—and married—Aaron. He is such a genuinely good person, and kind, thoughtful, sensitive, hard-working, sexy, funny, witty, and smart. I could go on and on.
60. I won an orange-peeling contest in eighth grade by peeling my orange in one continuous peel.
61. Does anyone actually like those nasty black and orange-wrapped peanut butter things that some people hand out on Halloween? Not all candy is good candy, and that candy is terrible.
62. I would much rather take the 270 bus to work than drive. Let someone else deal with traffic, unpredictable weather, and bad drivers. I'd rather relax and read my book.
63. Long hair is sexy; short hair is sassy. It always has been and always will be.
64. I don't cry often or easily. When I do break down, though, watch out.
65. I was on the North High gymnastics team from seventh to eleventh grade. I competed on vault, floor, and bars. At different points in my gymnastics career, I broke my ankle falling off the bars, and fractured two fingers doing back handsprings on floor. I never broke any bones doing vault, but did chicken out once and instead of launching off the springboard to do a front handspring, ran full-on into the vault and really hurt my shoulder. (Isn't there some law of physics I should have respected about sprinting and then trying to stop the momentum at the last second?) I learned a valuable lesson about confidence then.
66. I have naturally brown hair but have been experimenting with color and highlights ever since my sister-in-law Tricia started doing my hair ten years ago. Trish is not only a great stylist & my brother’s soul mate, but a wonderful friend.
67. I would like to go to Australia some day.
68. In college I had a purple Beta named G. Love. I neglected him one summer by being incredibly lazy and not cleaning his fish bowl. He lived (through the muck) for MONTHS. It was not one of my more proud moments in time.
69. I grew up with a big, fat, sweet cat named Peanut Butter. I have yet to meet a cat as cool as he was.
70. I got married on April 16, 2005. I had Adam on Aug. 11, 2007. Those two dates are the most significant dates of my life thus far.
71. I graduated with a journalism degree (emphasis in advertising) and a minor in sociology from UWEC.
72. It bothers me that smart, confident, outspoken women are regarded as bitches. I say to them: You go girls! Shatter that glass ceiling!
73. I miss my Grandma S. and think of her on a regular basis.
74. I still can't believe I get paid to write—and for a magazine, no less! I work with some amazing, talented people and have grown in personal and professional ways in the three-plus years I've been at GMG. I have a lot of "situational friends" (friends due to the fact that we currently work together) but I've also made some substantial friends through this job who will, without a doubt, be in my life until I'm old and grey.
75. My favorite ice cream is strawberry cheesecake or vanilla bean. My favorite dessert is tiramisu, banana cream pie, or brownie sundaes.
76. I once had my left eyebrow pierced. I took the piercing out for my job interview at Lillie and the hole closed shortly after that. The actual piercing didn’t hurt that much, but I wouldn’t stop bleeding afterward, and I know I freaked the #$*^ out of the girl who pierced me (at the Bionic Laboratory).
77. I'm close to my mom's side of the family. My dad's side is a little more complicated.
78. I am NOT an adventurous eater.
79. I love spending sunny summer days out on my parents’ boat.
80. I don’t like red or green bell peppers.
81. Aaron and I are the organizers in our extended group of friends.
82. I love our goose down comforter. We bought it with wedding gift card money. Best purchase EVER.
83. My all-time favorite concert was the Beastie Boys (In the Round). Other stellar shows: Soul Coughing, Prince, Semisonic, The Jayhawks, BoDeans, the Chili Peppers, Garbage, Prodigy, Matchbox Twenty, Maroon 5, Smashing Pumpkins, Dave Matthews Band, Guster, G. Love, Big Head Todd, Bon Jovi, Pink Martini, A Perfect Circle, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, John Mayer, and Lush.
84. I think snowboarders are sexy. Aaron is a snowboarder. Enough said.
86. I like the challenge of a good crossword puzzle.
87. I have a spider tattoo on my back, inspired by this quote: “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.”
88. I enjoy going to Saints & Twins games. And tailgating. Baseball and beer and grilling sort of all go together.
89. I can’t make myself burp. I wish I could. I’m jealous that my baby brother Nick can burp the alphabet. Seems like a fun party trick.
90. I send out over 100 Christmas cards every year.
91. My dad taught me to be good to the environment. I recycle everything. I never litter. I take the bus. I turn off lights when I leave a room. I buy second-hand. I recently purchased some of those funny-shaped swirly lightbulbs. I live in a small house. I will also teach Adam to be good to the environment. I hope he listens.
92. I am a mother and love my son with every ounce of my heart and soul.
93. I broke 18 braces in the 3+ years I had a metal mouth. My orthodontist told me he was going to start charging per brace if I didn’t stop eating popcorn and candy (Now & Laters are not a good candy choice when you have braces.)
94. I went to England with Amy & Megan in 1997. It was an awesome trip.
95. I have traveled to Green Bay, Madison, Milwaukee, Seattle, Boulder, Portland, Coeur d’Alene, Chicago, Holland (Michigan), and San Diego to visit friends. I wish these friends lived closer.
96. I fainted in my college “wellness” class when they were checking my body fat. The girl holding the calipers and pinching me over and over joked, “According to this chart you’re severely obese! That can’t be right. Let me try again.” I passed out then and never did find out my true body fat reading.
97. Whenever I’m with my younger brother Nick, I wind up laughing. A lot.
98. I laugh a lot with my older brother Shawn, too. My brothers have grown up to be great (very funny) men. The men in my family also love to hunt and fish and spend time in the great outdoors—passions they will share with Adam.
99. I can’t get enough of Adam’s laugh. Best sound in the world.
100. I am blessed to have family who are friends and friends who are family; a loving, kind, supportive husband; a wonderful (happy) little boy; my health (and healthy loved ones around me); a job in my field; a roof over my head; and the ability to see the glass as half full. No one ever knows when their "ticket is up," and when mine is up, I will be able to say I fully enjoyed the ride.