Off to Notre Dame...congrats, A&A!

Woo hoo, it's wedding weekend! 

Friends Andrew and Alyssa are tying the knot at my favorite place in the world in just two days! Andrew proposed to Alyssa in May of 2013 and ever since then, it's been a whirlwind of planning and excitement, not just for them but for all their Twin Cities friends as well. Both of them have made Minneapolis their adopted home...Andrew migrated up here after we both graduated for work, and he and I made plenty of mischief in our "freshman year of life." Alyssa followed him a year later after finishing her graduate program on the East Coast, and is now a librarian who also works in Saint Paul. They share an apartment with Sculpture Garden views and a sweet pup, Riley, and soon they'll share a last name!

We are all so excited that this wedding has (finally) arrived! I'll be offline for the weekend partaking in prosecco and Backer Long Islands, sharing time with friends, and celebrating these two! Here's to the happy couple...Marry Like a Champion Today, and of course, Go Irish!

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. 

2.0.

When I think back, to exactly this time last year...Memorial Day weekend 2013...Jon was moving in. I was delirious with happiness, utterly blinded by the certainty I felt in myself, in us, in our future. When I inventory where I am today...Memorial Day weekend 2014...I am six weeks single, living in the suburbs with my parents, completely resetting the trajectory of where I thought my life was going and certain of so much...less. It's been a hell of a ride, one that left me vacillating wildly over and around and through the entire gamut of my personal range of emotion. This has taken the air out of me so hard it's stolen every word I could possibly have written, and in that void has been silence, and it's only now that I finally feel like I can start reclaiming this particular aspect of myself, untainted: my voice, my words, my record.

Such a huge part of me screams every day, pleading for the chance to go back and tell that girl a year ago (that naive, happy, stupid, trusting girl, GOD I MISS HER) what I know now. To take her and shake her and make her hear this: "Stop! Think, harder! Put up walls! Ask all the questions, even the ones you'd never think to ask because despite everything you cannot even fathom what you're in for if you don't!" I would do so much to be able to keep her safe, bubble-wrapped and polished and up on the top shelf thinking life is something in the neighborhood of a fairy tale. I want so much to make her aware of how badly someone can set her reeling, without her having to feel it for herself and lose that innocent, trusting, optimistic shine. 

Another, smaller, quieter, but assertive little part of me just wants to go back and give that girl a hug. To pat her on the back, pour her another mimosa and tell her that she's doing everything right with this leap, this move, this relationship. That there's nothing wrong with having faith in someone who's never shown her that she should do otherwise. I want to fist-bump her for her confidence and excitement and optimism. And I want to leech some of that off her. She doesn't know how the tiniest fissures can become cracks, and grow into chasms; she hasn't yet learned that there's no such thing as a sure thing. How smug and proud and satisfied she is, that girl of a year ago, in her shitty apartment with a view that takes her breath away and a boyfriend who does the same. I want to tell her that she needs to buckle up, to be ready to hold her breath when she suddenly lands underwater, and that she will lose so much and still come out with a pulse and a mostly-intact heart. That there will be higher highs than she has ever experienced, and lower lows than she thought she had in her, and that through it all she'll stay on her feet somehow and keep a smile on her face, most of the time, believe it or not. 

As for the me of this Memorial Day, I'm still warring between the overwhelming desire to erase and heal by forgetting and the certainty that, in all this uncertainty, I've received a revelation. I'm white-knuckle-holding onto the truth of all that I learned through this experience...these 2+ years with Jon, this plethora of firsts and this finality of the last. I'm resetting in more ways than one, and so things around here are going to change a bit. The girl who started this blog was the girl who was certain and filled with faith and shielded by her own naiveté. The girl who I am now...Version 2.0...has a long way to go. 

Here's to a summer of self-discovery. 

off we go!

In just six short hours, Jon and I are off on an adventure! 

We're going from this...

to THIS!….

From this...

to THIS!...

from this...

to THIS!…

from this...

to THIS!...

Turns out when we got cabin fever this January and booked our trip to Puerto Rico, we picked the perfect time to get the hell out of Dodge…er, Minnesota. The Twin Cities got slammed last night with two inches of solid ice and ten inches of snow, and the forecast for next week is subzero and miserable all the way through. I can't wait for:

- rum-based drinks and catching rays on the beaches of Culebra

-zip lining and waterfall hiking the rainforest of El Yunque

-snorkeling and experiencing the bioluminescent bay of Vieques

-exploring the culture and history of Old San Juan

And MOST of all, spending lots and lots of time with this cute guy on our first big-time vacation together!

We get back the 28th, and I can't wait to share pictures and stories from the trip with you, along with more February awesomeness (um, can you say MOST epic birthday ever?!). Til then, keep your toes warm and the fires burning! 

Resolutionizing Check-in: January 2014

Since we've entered my favorite winter month, it's time for the first monthly check-in on those resolutions I wrote a while back. Because accountability is the only way anything gets done around here, after all! 

1. Cook at least one new recipe a week.

Status: Fail! Oh, FAIL! I cooked like…one new thing period in January! Such a disappointment. Looks like I have a long way to go on this one. 

2. Manage my closet/shopping habits in conjunction with each other more effectively. 

Status: Moderately proud of my progress on this one…I did shop (damn you, online clearance sections!), but everything I bought was for work. Further, I cleaned out a ton of old (seriously, high-school old) skirts, shirts, and sweaters. I'll give myself a B for January on this one. Goal for February: no online shopping whatsoever. Here goes nothing!

3. Have at least one "event date" a month with Jon. 

Status: I'm so in love with this resolution and so proud of how I'm doing with it! Jon and I had a great January of dates. We got in the habit of doing something fun on Fridays after work, which has included a few ski trips to Afton, along with taking advantage of the free WinterSkate in Rice Park after swanky cocktails at the St. Paul Hotel. We also saw "Frozen" (DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED, I'M OBSESSED!) and have started watching "The Bachelor" with wine and snark galore. I do love this guy…pretty lucky. Here's to more dates in all the rest of the months. 

4. Focus on continuing friendships. 

Status: Also really proud of this one! I've had such a social butterfly month, which I'm excited to share soon, and I'm loving taking advantage of more free time to reconnect with friends. Definitely planning on keeping up the great momentum here. 

5. Call my grandma regularly. 

Status: Another epic fail here. I'm disappointed I haven't done this…as I said in my original post, a phone call is SO easy. We've been seeing Grandma Lo regularly for Sunday Funday (deets to come, it's a blast!), but that doesn't give me a free pass on making just a teeny bit more effort. 

6. Grow some succulents. 

Status: Fail. It's cold, it's dark, and my green thumb is gonna be in hibernation until like…Daylight Savings Time starts. Expect some blooming/growing/greening things then. 

7. Write more!

Status: Moderate success? I've been writing lots of little things, like my five-year journal and plenty of verbose emails to BFF Conk. I've sadly neglected the blog this month, though, and that's gotta turn around. Thankfully, I have plenty planned for February! I also did write three pieces of snail mail this month, which was fun and is definitely going to be a continual goal. 

8. Stop leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor. 

Status: Progress has been made! There is now a clothes pile approximately 75% of the time instead of 100% of the time! And I may be wishfully thinking, but it's shrunk. Here's to total elimination by April at the rate we're going…ha!

9. Make smart, healthy choices. 

Status: Actually really pleased with this one so far. Barre has been so inspiring for me. As a friend put it, there's nothing like sore muscles to remind me that I made a great effort to improve my health, which in turn inspires healthier eating and life choices across the board. I also haven't slept in my makeup ONCE yet this year, awww yeah!

10. Focus on maintaining a positive outlook. 

Status: Ugh. This is the one that I didn't think I'd fail, and toooootally did. January is hard, you guys! Not that it's an excuse, but -50 degree temperatures, hours of darkness, and the post-Christmas crash hit me hard this year. I've been brutal to some of the people I love most. Hopefully having things like my birthday, Puerto Rico and spring on the horizon will be the kick in the pants I need to stay grateful for all the wonderful things in my life. 

Here's to a month of progress and 11 more months of accountability!