Christmas with the Redwoods

While we spent yesterday in wine country with friends, today we're heading just a bit south to the stunning Muir Woods, one of my family's favorite stops over the holiday trip to Northern California that started it all!

We were stumped as to what to do on Christmas Day - almost all the wineries were closed, and we knew most of the restaurants and attractions in San Francisco would be too. Emily had the brilliant idea to see if the national parks were open, and sure enough, they were - so we were up at the crack of dawn in our Sonoma Airbnb and at Muir Woods before they even officially opened! 

A word to the wise: if you are planning to visit Muir Woods, do plan to arrive early. The parking lots and road spaces tend to be filled as early as 9:30-10am on weekends and holidays, and there are no alternatives for parking in or near the forest. While there are shuttles, those, too fill up and it's better to arrive early and not have to deal with the hassle in the first place. 

It's fairly clear from our attire in these photos: the Schwegfam is not composed of hardcore hikers. We love nature...we are just generally poorly equipped to do crazy-intense hikes. We loved Muir because there was a really wide variety of trails, with a range of difficulty suited to the group. The main loop is a clear, paved path with signs and handrails - legit even a child or older person could handle it - but there are other, lengthier, more challenging loops that can be tackled too. We did a short one that ran parallel to and above the main trail and really enjoyed it. 

As for the redwoods - words can't do them justice, and I feel like a sad imitation of a writer even trying to do so. I had read plenty about the redwoods over the course of my life, but to be honest I couldn't even have told you the difference between a redwood or a giant sequoia. Muir Woods had great educational information scattered throughout the park, and I geeked out hard throughout our hike (stroll). Who's surprised? Nobody. 

The sheer height and scale of the redwoods can't be captured on camera - or at least not on my iPhone. Christmas morning was cold and misty, and the woods were utterly silent when we headed in. The peace and quiet created a truly otherworldly atmosphere, one that left me completely in awe of what we were seeing and experiencing. 

As we explored, the sun peeked through and burned off the fog, and the day got warmer. Watching the sun filtering through the trees - absolutely gorgeous. We made approximately a hundred jokes about finding the perfect Christmas tree and having a "Muiry" Christmas courtesy of Emily, but we also all constantly repeated how stunning the scenery was. 

As the day wore on, the woods got much more crowded and hectic - and we got a little sick of the chatter and tourist traffic jams. So we headed out of the woods and over to Muir Beach for a change of scenery! 

The beach was blustery and cloudy, and far less crowded than the woods - definitely not swimsuit weather, but the views of the Bay were ridiculous. I would certainly not hate having a little beach shack there...right?!

Looking back, I'm probably sentimentalizing this quite a bit, but I think this is about when I started to maybe percolate the idea of heading west. The clouds over the bay were illuminated from behind by the sun, creating a hazy mid-afternoon sky that looked almost twilit. With the salt wind blasting my face and my toes so cold they were numb, it hardly seemed like an idyll - but that wild, severe, varied beauty was something I hadn't experienced like this before. 

I'm not going to assign more emphasis to this than I should, but I think there's something about redwoods and the ocean around here that makes everything seem amazing and possible and just a little bit fantastical. 

It's Travel Week(s) at MinneapoLiz!

I just spent my weekend rampaging through Washington DC with Kaitlin – a much needed reunion, as we hadn’t seen each other since Boston 2015. WHAT?! That got me thinking – I’ve been fortunate enough to go on some seriously kickass trips in the last year or so, and I’m terrible about actually chronicling those trips. Since I’m out of town (and will be busy with a national conference for the next several days), I’m officially declaring it MinneapoLiz Travel Week(s)!

Going back through my photos, I never touched on the Norway portion of last summer’s Scandinavia trip, which is egregious (because Norway was my FAVE part of that trip). So that’s getting covered for sure, along with the rest of last winter’s trip to Northern California (before this move was even a thought in my head!! AHHH!)…and this February’s Miami and Puerto Rico trip for Josh and Tash’s wedding. I’m also finally going to post photos from the Schwegfam Cali trip this July…I hate posting on such a lag, but it’s worth waiting for Emily’s pro-quality camera’s gorgeous photos. And finally, of course, DC shenanigans…because with Kaitlin and me, there WERE obviously shenanigans. (And mimosas.)

Can’t wait to show off some of my favorite adventures with my favorite people!

Worst weather, best people: a weekend at home!

Dorothy Gale hit the nail square on the head... "There's no place like home." I snuck back to Minneapolis the weekend before the Labor Day holiday thanks to an insanely good flight deal, and had a fabulous whirlwind 72 hours with my parents and best friends in the process! 

At first, Dick, Jodester and I had grand plans of spending all day Friday on Lake Minnetonka - boating, scoping out stunning real estate, and getting me in a Minnesota lake for the first time this summer. Instead, the forecast was for weather in the low to mid 60s and rain all weekend. Damn it, Minnesota! What was this bull? Fortunately, I have the world's best parents, and they planned a doubleheader Friday evening of my favorite places: Spoon and Stable and the Guthrie! 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Spoon and Stable is the best restaurant in the Twin Cities. And if you don't acknowledge that, I will fight you. No, I kid. But not really. We showed up nice and early to clock time at the bar with Elliot, who made me their Daily per usual. The feature of the day involved, among other things, bourbon and orgeat, a an almond-and-rose liqueur that was revelatory. I adored it. Then again, I've never had a cocktail at Spoon that I didn't adore. 

We sat down to dine, and right after our salads showed up, so did this little munch!!

LOOK at the chins on this pumpkin, my baby cousin Hugh Arnold! He (and his parents Jake and Brook, as well as cousin Matt and aunt/uncle Mary Beth and Dave!) had been down the street at the Hewing having happy hour, and popped over to say hello (and for snuggles/second base, obvs). Such a fun surprise - I hadn't seen Hugh since he was a tiny two-month old at the third Arnold brother Josh's wedding in Miami. 

My very favorite person at Spoon is our server of choice, Nikki, who is an utter delight and spoils us rotten at every turn, chatting all evening and surprising us with treats in the form of extra dessert. Papa Bear loves to debate the age-old quandary: would you choose greatfood and average service, or average food and great service? Fortunately at S&S, you don't have to choose, but the service provided by people like Elliot and Nikki is so outstanding that it's almost ruined me for normal dining experiences. I seriously love it there so much it's a bit absurd. 

After doing a fairly obscene number on the honey and cream cake (sue me), we headed down the street to my other fave place in the Cities, my beloved Guthrie, for their final performance of "Native Gardens!"

Having no idea what we were getting into, we were all blown away by the show, a comedy about neighbors warring over their yards and property lines. It felt shockingly topical and universal, and I think, based on the audience's response, we weren't the only ones who could relate. For me, the highlight was my dad laughing his ass off, which rarely happens in a theater!

I spent Saturday morning having a much-needed catch-up with my hairstylist Jen, getting colored and cut and cleaned up, before a reunion with my very own ride-or-die, Kelsie! We chose to spend the afternoon doing what we do best: an alcohol crawl through the Twin Cities, duh. 

We started at Rojo with margaritas and guacamole...

...moved to Tattersall for a peek at their totally revamped cocktail menu...if you go, I HIGHLY recommend the new 18th and Central or the Humzinger...

...And we wrapped up our day out at Indeed, where I drank IPAs (and a Mexican Honey, duh) to my heart's content! Look at the changes California has wrought in me...and it's only been two months! 

We headed back to the Schwegfam World Headquarters for a fantastic Inner Circle dinner with my parents, who love Kelsie so much that they actually use the hashtag #4thchild with her. Realistically, we've been friends for literally half our lives and I'm pretty sure at this point she's grandfathered in. My dad grilled us burgers, we drank plenty of wine, and had a blast catching up until late!

Sunday morning marked the first time all weekend that I'd seen Minnesota blue skies, and we celebrated by heading to Lake Harriet for a morning lap. While I'd been on-and-off nostalgic all weekend, this was the first moment that I really, truly felt like I'd left the Cities, rather than just gone on some bizarre extended vacation. Looking at the skyline on the horizon tugged at my heartstrings in a way that metaphorically screamed that that view doesn't belong to me anymore...it's incredibly weird, and I still haven't really synthesized it. More to come, eventually. 

We vacated the premises as storms loomed more seriously on the horizon, and I headed home to clean up and pack before meeting Hannah in Edina for coffee! We chatted for nearly two hours about everything from "The Bachelorette" to our love lives, and I was so engrossed that I didn't even bother to snap a picture. Shame on me! That said, she's coming to California in a little over a month, and I can't wait to spend a week catching up then! 

All too soon, it was goodbye to Hannah and time for a crazy-enthusiastic hello!!!! to baby Ryan Reuvers! 

This not-so-little cutie pie (and his amazing parents, Zach and Colleen!) met up with me at Tavern on France for patio mimosas and a ton of cuddles. He was so excited to finally meet me that he pooped straight through not one, but two outfit changes. I have that effect on guys, apparently ;) 

The side-eye says it all...I'm clearly ready for parenthood. It was beyond fun to catch up with Zach and Colleen and meet their little man, who is just as precious as they are...can't wait for more quality time when they head to the Bay Area in THREE weeks! 

My parents came and met me, we had a disastrous dinner at Al Vento, and before I knew it it was time to head to MSP and board a late flight back west. While the weekend was a total whirlwind of activities and socializing, it gave me exactly the boost I needed as I headed into Stanford's year-end. Minnesota is good for my soul, friends - or at least it is now. We'll see if my tune changes come wintertime, when my thin new-Californian blood has to deal with subzero temps again! 

Lately I'm Loving

Things making me smile/on my mind/causing distraction lately:

- I've been doing a lot of thinking about books lately. Namely, the fact that my reading list has burgeoned to nearly 150 titles, all added in the last couple of months, and that I've done a shamefully lax job checking them off. While I attribute that in large part to the fact that my days are, in general, much fuller here, I've also been a total social media fiend lately (stories forthcoming). This piece, about a guy who read 400 books in the last two years, was thought-provoking in its direct call-out of people like me who waste a ton of time on apps. While I still polish off around 10-12 books a month, it's crazy to think about how much more I could be doing. 

(Related: this Atlantic piece about how smartphones are destroying today's teens was a lengthy but compelling read.)

- As far as reading goes, I started extremely young - I read the entirety of the "Little House on the Prairie" series in kindergarten, and graduated (rapidly and prematurely) to "Pride and Prejudice" and "Watership Down" in second grade and "War and Peace" in third. (For the record, do not recommend that course of action.) What I do recommend? Reading early and often with kids. Some of my happiest and earliest childhood memories are of reading in bed with my parents almost every night. With that in mind, I've decided my new go-to baby gift is membership in The Picture Book Club, which is, as far as I can tell, basically the Jelly of the Month club but for books. Sign me (and my hypothetical future progeny) up for the "Women Who Changed The World" subscription, please. 

- I think the reason I read so much from a very early age is that I was a very well-socialized but equally introverted child. It's a topic that I've seen addressed a lot lately, most recently in this way-too-relatable post a friend shared on Facebook about characteristics of the type. I can't even begin to express how strongly I identified with most, if not all, of the outlined traits...to the point that, even as I write this, I'm re-reading the list and aggressively nodding along in my cube. 

- In addition to reading literature that was targeted well above my age range, I also spent much of my childhood attending theatrical events and being exposed to classical music. I attribute my adult love of the arts entirely to my parents' focus on ensuring we were well-versed in that world from an early age - and that we knew how to behave there. This New York Times thought piece about children and their participation in the adult world of the arts could basically be a manifesto for how I intend to (someday, maybe) parent...just a few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of sitting behind a family of five at the opera and listening to the youngest, who couldn't have been more than seven, discuss the very mature themes of Thaïs with her mom during intermission. SIGN ME UP. 

the shakes

One of the weirdest things about my move to California is that it’s actually changed my dreams. Lately I’ve been having the most bizarrely realistic dreams about earthquakes – almost as if I’m having one of those dreams where I feel like I’m falling and actually wake up, but instead the world is shaking under my feet and I wake up feeling like I’m trembling. We haven’t had any real earthquakes – at least not strong enough to feel – but a coworker of mine told me that the easiest way to tell if there’s been a tremor is if the frames get crooked. I’ve noticed my gallery wall is off-kilter a couple times, and am choosing to attribute that to tremors (rather than to Dave’s/my tendency to slam our bedroom doors!).

The newest one, though, is about the hills. I’ve driven a fair amount in San Francisco over the past few weeks, and some of the hills are so steep that, at the bottom, all I can do is look up incredulously, laugh, and hope to God my Civic doesn’t crap out halfway up. The visual of houses going straight as we all tilt up is a complete mind-bender, one I don’t know that I’ll ever grow accustomed to.

For the last several nights, I've dreamed I was driving us (not sure who, but there are others in the car, of course) up one such hill, so tall and so unbroken by cross-streets that the top wasn’t visible from the bottom. We were going up and tilting at a more and more dramatic angle, and all of a sudden it was like the angle had gotten too steep for the car to handle. In the dream, we flipped straight backward and started just free-falling back down the hill, as if the earth itself had fallen away from us. I woke up actually shouting in panic last night and had to get out of bed for a solid twenty minutes in the middle of the night to calm myself down.

It’d be nice to be able to dream about, I don’t know, wineries and fresh-squeezed orange juice or something. I guess my insane subconscious has to remind me it’s not all sunshine and 75 degrees here, or something.

Ending on a funny note…

A few weeks ago when Jonathan was in town, we were discussing earthquakes on the way up to Napa with Tyler. Jonny was curious, so I explained it the way the aforementioned coworker had – that the regular quakes are seldom more than a 3 on the Richter scale, and that it takes about a 5 before people really feel it. From there, it exponentially increases – a 7 will “really rock things,” as she put it.

Jonathan, being Jonathan, immediately goes, “IT’S LIKE A DICK. You don’t feel 3 inches, but you notice it at 5 and a 7 will rock your world!” Tyler chimed in with the absolute mot juste: “It’s like the Dickter Scale!” I died laughing, and every time I think about that little exchange, nightmares about hills and quakes seem a lot less traumatic after all.