Stitches.

I have a huge scar on the side of my left asscheek. To this day, I get looks in a swimsuit, to the point where I've made up several funny anecdotes, tragic shark incident being my favorite. When I was in second grade, I had surgery to remove a mole on my left hip/thigh, a mole for which the clinical name was a "hairy nevis." Let's all laugh together, yes?

The mole had been there since birth, dark brown, oblong, growing with me. To doctors, it posed a pre-cancer risk not worth screwing with in a seven or eight-year old kid, and therefore it had to go. I remember the weirdest mix of indifference, trepidation, and elation (mostly because it would get me out of running the mile for spring P.E. evals...). Surgery was uneventful, a three-inch wide, three-inch deep incision with like a hundred stitches. My mom brought popsicles and "Beethoven" the movie to me after I woke up, and I wound down my second-grade spring with a slight limp and a get-out-of-gym-free pass. 

One day, before my stitches had really entirely healed, I went to my friend Katelyn's house to play and have dinner and a sleepover. In all my innocent stupidity, I thought for some reason that playing Frisbee outside with Katelyn, her little brothers, and the neighbor kids was an acceptable activity, despite my sedentary weeks. I was living the dream: running, catching, jumping around like all the other kids. Before I knew it, though, my cobalt-blue shorts and white, daisy-printed t-shirt (I still remember the entire outfit) were both bloodstained from my hip all the way down to my knee and up to my armpit. Turns out I had fallen down and, in doing so, burst open the nearly-healed wound. The sight that greeted me has stayed with me forever...it's the first time I ever remember gore making me nauseous. 

My mom rushed me to the E.R., where my stitches were replaced and I was sternly reprimanded by the doctor on duty (as well as my mom). Sobbing hysterically, more out of embarrassment than pain or fear, I begged for forgiveness, for it to go away and be okay. The doctor let me know that the area that had burst would forever be a lumpier, more prominent scar than if the incision had healed uninterrupted. And to this day, it is...tight, twisted, raised and off-putting to the point where I don't like looking at or touching it. 

Now let's all make a trite little metaphor together. The wound is really my heart and the stitches are really my healing process and the Frisbee fall is finding out that the person I love/loved/love has already moved on. And all that scar tissue that I've built up so carefully has just exploded. Problem is there's not really a doctor on hand here to stitch me back up and give me grief, and there's not even a get-out-of-gym-free pass in this circus of cheating and lies. Mostly I just feel like that sad little second grader, dismayed as I look down to see the bloodstain oozing across the Gap Kids t-shirt, turning the turquoise daisies rust-colored. And I feel like I'm back at square one: embarrassed and nauseous and so, so sorry. 

Ode to the Jode

I've had a lot of reasons to take an inventory of my blessings lately, campers...and today I'd like to celebrate one of the greatest blessings in my life: my mom! The Jodester is celebrating her birthday today, and, to quote Papa Bear, "This is the second-most important day of the year, only after Christmas!" (To be frank, he might be wrong about that. My mother's birth might actually supersede the birth of the Christ Child himself. Blasphemy? Possibly, but I'd put money on Jodes any day.)

Parenthetical asides aside, I am so intensely happy that Mom's birthday falls today, of all days. The last few days and weeks have slapped me in the face repeatedly with the fact that I won the lottery of parents. 

Nothing can really encapsulate how incredible my mom is or how great our relationship is. I was never really the clichéd high schooler who hated her mom because it was en vogue to do so. I tended to appreciate the kind of mother who thought after-school Caramel Coolers were totally fair game, who devoted countless hours to teaching me to drive (more patiently than Dad, might I add), volunteering at debate and speech tournaments, and listening to me practice the piccolo...let's be real, that alone should fast-track her for sainthood!

I talked to my mom literally every day in college and almost every day that I was abroad in London...and often, it'd be more than once. It's a tradition we've carried through to adulthood with remarkable success. She was and still is the first person I want to share my triumphs with, be it a great grade on a test, my job offers from my Big 4 or new job, or conquering my ineptitude in the kitchen. She is the first person I take my fears, frustrations, and failures to...not just for a comforting pep talk but for true advice and constructive criticism when it's merited. And she is the only person I am ever going to be comfortable sharing every hurt with...from childhood bruises to broken elbows to broken hearts.

I  think, however, it takes that first taste of adulthood to truly appreciate the magic that is a mother. The older I've gotten and the more I've struck out on my own and experienced independence, the healthier and richer our relationship has grown. We have a level of candor and honesty with one another that resonates on every level. With the perspective of my own half-baked attempts to be an adult, I can look at my mom and not just see "my mom." Instead, I'm learning to see everything that has made her the woman that she is...a woman who is my mom, but is also her own person. 

Before this devolves too far into the realms of Hallmark saccharine, here's to you, Mom...to the person who is the life of the party, the backbone of our family, and the brightest spot in my world. They always say that at some point, women turn into their mothers. Personally, I can't wait for that day to come. :)

Love you SO much! Happy birthday!

Happiness.

I had a conversation with Michael over our standing Wednesday lunch the other day about how pessimistic I've been feeling lately. This up-and-down weather seems to have grabbed hold of my moods, and they're bouncing all over the place with the thermometer. I think everyone has the same deep-seated desire for spring. Like, seriously, can I just get some blue skies, robins chirping, and lilacs blooming up in here? Green grass would boost morale so dramatically, I'm telling ya...today, for example, I'm grinning from ear to ear despite a sprained ankle and mild hangover! Gotta love that first 60-degree day, right? 

Anyway, asides aside and back to lunch. Michael (being very wise), after a suitable amount of commiseration, offered a delightfully no-BS pep talk that boils down to: 

"Even if you're feeling pessimistic or not happy, acknowledge that feeling, accept it, and actively choose to not put that forth into the world or let it dominate your attitude." 

Wise and simple, right?! And so doable. After only a couple days of thinking about it, I'm finding that it actually does work and help. Actively noticing, owning, and focusing on the little things that make me happy, and choosing to put those forth is so much more fun than pessimism and gloominess anyway. 

Given I'm trying so hard to be focused on happiness, I've given a lot of thought these days to what makes me happy. Through that, I've realized how prevalent happiness is in our culture right now. Maybe it's because we all need that reminder to be mindful and not forget that we all have great things to be happy about...or maybe it's because it's just worth sharing the feeling/knowledge/focus once you find it :) Take, for example: 

Pharrell, "Happy:"

Duh. I dare you to listen to this and not feel a tiny smile or at least the very faintest inkling of a toe-tap. What I love most about this song, though, is how Pharrell has taken it and used the song to create a 24 hour music video, "24 Hours Of Happy." Check it out at http://24hoursofhappy.com: I'm loving tuning in whenever I remember to!

Gretchen Rubin, "The Happiness Project." 

Published in 2009, "The Happiness Project" is a great self-help book/memoir of sorts chronicling the author's attempt to spend a year mindfully seeking and creating happiness in her life and the lives of those around her. A sequel, "Happiness at Home," was published in 2012. I've read both and enjoyed them--there are great little nuggets of truth hidden in there that, I think, can apply to anyone regardless of their situation or demographic. 

The "#100 Happy Days" challenge. 

I discovered this one via Instagram: the "#100HappyDays" Project is so cute! Social media users can sign up at www.100happydays.com to spend 100 days chronicling in photographs what made them happy. I have had so much fun with it...so far, I'm 26 days in and it has forced me to appreciate, celebrate, and commemorate the ways that all the little mundane aspects of my life make me happy. Can't wait to do a full review in a couple months once I'm done!

And, although not a cultural movement or media piece or anything: Be Happy Red Tea is my new weapon of choice in backing off the 3-a-day coffee habit I've redeveloped this winter. It's a super cheering blend of lemon and peach and I love it and drink it all morning every day. 

What makes you happy? Any "pop culture happy" I missed out on?

Minneapoliz A to Z.

A. Age: 25, as chronicled here. I'm loving it so far. 

B. Bed size: KING YO. Shortly after Jon moved in, he came out of our bedroom one morning and just declared we were getting a new bed and it was going to be a king (my old mattress had belonged to my grandma and was seriously among the worst). Less than a week later we had the king-size and it is a dream. 

C. Chore you dislike: The floors. Anything involving the floors. Love laundry, though!

D. Dogs: None currently, but aren't they just fun and wonderful?

E. Essential start to your day: Coffee. I gave up "designer" (Starbucks/Caribou) cold-turkey in October of 2012 and have been addicted to flavored Keurig ever since. New obsession: Bruegger's French Toast coffee is delish. 

F. Favorite color: Yellow. But for spring I'm super into kelly and mint green. 

G. Gold or silver: Gold right now.

H. Height: 5'4". 
 

I. Instruments you play(ed): Piano, flute, piccolo, and the recorder with all the other fourth-graders (poor parents, those things were the WORST). 

J. Job title: Senior Financial Consultant. It sounds more bad-ass than it is :)

K. Kids: are my favorite and I am super excited about the prospect of someday having one (someday being the key to that whole thing, there)

L. Live: The blog is called Minneapoliz for a reason, folks. 

M. Mom’s name: THE JODESTER!!!!!

N. Nicknames: I've never actually gone by Elizabeth. Always Lizzie or Liz. Ultimate nickname. 

O. Overnight hospital stays: None that I can recall but I'm pretty sure I had one as a baby/toddler?

P. Pet peeves: The sound of Styrofoam. People who don't use their turn signals while driving. When I'm at the gym or in a public restroom and someone feels the need to use the equipment/stall right next to me even though there are other ones open. 

Q. Quote from a movie: Currently "Lutefisk, to end on warm feelings" from "Frozen" because i'm about seven at heart. Always and forever: ANYTHING from "When Harry Met Sally." It is my favorite for all time. 

R. Righty or lefty: Right. 

S. Siblings: 2--one of each and I adore them. 

T. Time you wake up: Loaded question. Technically it shouuuuld be around 6am. These days it's 6:30 if I'm lucky and 7am if I'm honest. I've mastered the…uh…"efficient" morning routine. 

U. Underwear: What about it? Duh. 

V. Vegetables you don’t like: Mushrooms. And Jon hates them too which is suuuuch a relief for me!

W.What makes you run late: Me! I never give myself enough time to include things and I'm so scattered in the mornings that it makes my head spin and stresses everyone else around me out as well. 

X. X-rays you’ve had: Wrists and elbows, baby. 

Y. Yummy food you make: Hahahaha that's a good one. If you count Easy Mac and buttered toast? Yes. Or Oreo balls. Let's revisit that one for good laughs. 

Z. Zoo animal favorites: Penguins, dolphins, and giraffes. I fed a giraffe a cracker at the zoo last summer and it was the highlight of possibly my entire July. 

Now I feel all Myspace-y. Cute, right? Wasn't this fun? 

The first day of Spring.

WE MADE IT!

Although there are still feet of snow outside, and although we're still sporting parkas and Uggs, and although hot tea still trumps iced coffee in my afternoon-pick-me-up book, it's the first day of spring! I genuinely don't think I've ever felt more ready to bid winter an official goodbye and good riddance. As far as I'm concerned, we're going to wake up tomorrow to tulips blooming, sandals-and-skirts weather, and long lazy days on patios. How heavenly does that sound?!

To celebrate the vernal equinox (so pretentious), I'm working from home and have enjoyed a long workout, given myself that sunny yellow pedicure I was so excited about last week, done all my laundry, and currently have the windows and sliding door cracked open. Cold though it may be, the fresh air is making my (daffodil-colored) toes tingle with anticipation of warmer days ahead. Later, I'm meeting Courtney for margaritas, the ultimate springy-summery drink, at Rojo…and I may just buy myself something springy at Anthropologie after. Who knows? 

Celebrate with me by listening to my ultimate springtimey jam: this has been a longtime favorite and always reminds me of my last beautiful spring at Notre Dame. (Notre Dame in the spring would require a whole separate rhapsodizing blog post. College campuses in the spring are God's gift, I tell ya.) Enjoy, and then go get yourself an iced coffee and smile :)

Happy spring!

Five Years' Time

Noah and the Whale