The story about the hats

Wait, I have to back up a little bit. There's more to share about Josh's birthday yesterday, but between making the carrot cake (his favorite), having dinner, wearing our hats and brainstorming wedding dance playlist material, it got to be very late and I ran out of time to tell you about it!

How it all unfolded:

Yesterday was Josh's birthday. As part of my sister's greeting on Facebook, she included a picture she had found online of this random celebratory Keeshond (not Wish, obviously), wearing a hat and eating some sort of meatloaf cake:

Josh was loving it, and I realized I had missed an important detail in the birthday celebration plans. Instead of fawning over the picture and then deciding the internet and world had fulfilled the Keeshond-wearing-birthday-hat quota, it didn't take long to decide that Wish needed a birthday hat for the evening's celebration. But I had a run planned for lunch and didn't quite have time after work to drive around looking for birthday hats! Whatever would I do?!

I have not been packing in the running miles lately but have become a big fan of blending running and commerce. I like to run to the grocery store and pick up the one or two items I need for that night's dinner (see? no impulse purchases possible that way!) and then run home. It was settled: I ran to a dollar store and bought party hats and birthday candles.

(Feel free to excuse my mega-awkward camera shadow.)

Later that evening, I got home and introduced Wish to the hats. At first, he was not having it, and I wondered if my idea was going to flop. Luckily, digging out a few of his favorite treats to have on hand worked wonders.

The outtakes:

I grated about one million carrots (vegetable-packed cake!?), got the cake in the oven, and heard the key turn in the door. I must pause and tell you - the dog owners among my readers will totally hear me here - that to my pup, this sound is one of The Most Exciting Sounds that exist in this world. I jumped up and said "WISH, COME HERE!" and waved a big chunk of his favorite treat toward the bedroom. I can't believe he choose following me into the room over attending to the door. (I told you he was treat-motivated!) I slammed the door and I think Josh was mightily confused while I got Wish ready with his hat.

Then Wish ran into the hallway to find Josh, and I heard Josh say, "Ahhhhh you're wearing a HAT!!!" Success!

They sat down together on the living room floor, and wouldn't you know, the dog lounged peacefully on the floor with his little hat on, breaking out his little Keeshond smile from time to time and relaxing with his papa.

And then I figured we should have a family photo, too, for the archives:

Our little dog has our days sweeter and sillier in so many ways, and it seems fitting that our first birthday celebration with him was like that, too.

A very happy birthday to my dear fiancé, who also makes my days brighter in so many ways.

Craft mayhem

I just got home from a celebratory Punch Pizza dinner with a friend - she is having a baby boy in 2013! - and my home has already started to overflow with a trifecta of craft projects:

1. One involves using something called fusible interfacing for the first time.
2. One involves asking a boy's mother for the measurement from one far corner of his eye to the other outside corner.
3. One involves getting out my trusty scrapbooking paper cutter (and required Wish's help earlier today).

Oh my, Reader, the kitchen table that greets Josh when he gets home is going to be quite a messy surprise!

I will update you accordingly. Good night.

And P.S. Are you finishing up any holiday crafts (or other kinds of crafts)? Please tell me about them!

Solving a mystery

I was reminded recently of a post that had been languishing as a draft for months - for good reason.

One morning in the early fall, I grabbed a sweatshirt folding up near the closet floor for my morning walk with Wish. There was a hole in the pocket - a very suspicious hole. Very.

My mind immediately went to a former college residence, where the mice were so bold that we'd hear them rustling in bags on the counter while we were in the next room. Oh, no, I thought. We must not have mice. We must not.

I worried. I talked with friends. They asked if we had seen other signs of mice, and I couldn't say that we had. Then, later in the day, Josh picked it up and was looking at the hole in the sweatshirt, and he said, "You know, this doesn't look like a mouse did this at all. It actually looks like..."

And then we both looked up at the dog and said, "Wish!"

And I swear he looked sheepishly away, as though he'd listened to the whole "OMG WE HAVE MICE!" exchange that morning and was just trying to see how long he could get away with it.

Later, we found a similar hole chewed in one of Josh's sweatshirts, and we traced it to the lure of crumbs from the treats we kept in the pockets to reward Wish during training on walks. (We definitely don't do that anymore.) Poor little rascal. He has little toys that are specifically designed to teach him how to think creatively to get treats, so how's he supposed to know any differently?

By the way, I kept this post as a draft for ages just to make sure we didn't actually have mice, so I wouldn't have to write, "Oh yeah, you know how I thought Wish was trying to eat holes in our sweatshirts? It turns out we have a rampant rodent infestation!" I still don't even like typing that out, for fear of jinxing our luck. I don't think any mice read my blog, though.

And what jogged my memory recently? It was when Josh showed me the little hole in his sweatshirt pocket and told me that he now actually likes the hole, because he can thread the cord to his headphones through it when his mp3 player is tucked into the pocket. Thanks, pup.

Summer is on its way

Humans adapt quickly. This is pretty important for big-picture survival, but I also notice this phenomenon on a smaller scale often, especially as the seasons change. One temperature that would be cause for tank tops in March makes me put on a sweatshirt in September. I even noticed this morning how much I had already absorbed the normalcy of so many leaves on the trees, compared to even just a few weeks ago, when the leaves were stunning and amazing and breaking news on my blog, like, daily.

Is it just me? I start dreaming in January about those things - the marvelous leaves and green grass and glowing charcoal and everything that goes with summer in Minnesota - and then by the time late July rolls around, I'm cowering in my dark basement with nary an urge to ever venture outside again.

No more!

I don't usually use this writing space to hold me accountable for goals - with the exception of 101 in 1,001, which I guess I see as more of a project - but it's undeniable that putting something in writing helps make it stick. There's something immensely special about a lazy summer day, and I'll never deny that, okay? But this summer, I vow to stretch just a little bit more and retreat to my cold basement a little bit less. Consider the following list a miniature 101 in 1,001 list: things I either have never done or don't do nearly enough in Minnesota in the summer - until this summer.

Top 10 Summer Activities Wish List

1. Visiting the Mill City Farmers Market. I always intend to head over to this market on weekend mornings and never have. From what I've heard, they have really delightful vendors (Chef Shack!). For that matter, I've actually never been to the regular Minneapolis Farmers Market, either. And for that matter, I vow to go to the St. Paul market more frequently, too. For the first time in several summers, I am sans CSA this year and will use the opportunity to visit more markets.
2. Picking strawberries. I talk a big game about going strawberry-picking every darn summer. I haven't gone in years. I have one farm I already love. Anyone have recommendations for me?
3. Going to a drive-in movie theater.
4. Paddleboarding.  This is on the 101 list, but I'll repeat it because again, I wanted to do it last summer and didn't get around to it.
5. Trying sweet corn ice cream.  This was all the rage at the State Fair last year and I expect it to find its way into more ice cream parlours this year. Heck! I'll also set a goal to eat more sweet corn in general.
6. Having a picnic.  (This is a classic talk-it-up-but-never-do activity at M&L.)
7. Going to a rooftop movie at Solera. This always seems like a lovely idea in the spring, especially because Solera pairs special beverages to match the movie being shown that night (themes are a quick way to my heart). Then it's summer and it takes sooo long to get dark enough for an outdoor movie (do you hear a sad violin playing?) and I never go.
8. Buying a grill and using it often.
9. Going on a waterslide. I do this once in awhile - maybe every other summer - and I will confess here that they usually go too fast for my liking and I am so clumsy that I usually plop into the water awkwardly and end up with a head full of chlorine. (Charming, yeah?)  But once I get over these obstacles, they are really fun. I will definitely visit a waterslide this summer.
10. Making popsicles. I got on a popsicle kick a few summers ago and immediately fell off it when one recipe was the slightest bit lackluster. I love popsicles, so I will try again with making my own instead of eating 6,000 Freezies this summer.

There!  It's carved in stone out there in the universe internet. It's kind of exciting just reading that list, even though it's 55 degrees and raining as I type.

Your turn, please! What about you?  Tell me what activities I missed and what items you'd put on your list.

Trivia triumph

Everyone has a trivia category that's made for him or her.  What is yours?  Sports?  Movies?  Politics?  Besides my illustrious bank of tidbits gleaned from US Weekly, I stumble at trivia.  I have never found the category that elicits the fierce confidence that prompts everyone at your table to crane their necks to see the answer that comes out of your brain.

Until now!

Last night, Josh and I joined three friends for trivia at Green Mill.  A few years ago, a big group of us used to go weekly, but our attendance dwindled this year.  The trivia is divided into several sections, and whoever gets to the restaurant first takes the first crack at the back page: the image round.  This involves identifying 10 visuals grouped around a theme, but the puzzle usually involves altering part of each image via a black bar or white-out. 

Josh and I grabbed our table yesterday, and when he looked at the page, he said, "This is your image round!" I doubt the two of us have ever been more excited to tackle the puzzles.  We were an A+ team.  By the time the next friend arrived, we had sheepishly dubiously proudly demolished the whole thing. 

Read it and weep.  I may flounder or fall silent in other categories.  But you know what?  After many years of practice, I know my frozen pizzas.

 

The only way the image round could've improved would've been if the trivia guy drew a smiley or star or "A+!" next to our 10 points.  Those points helped the team nab third place and a $10 gift card to Half Price Books.  I never dreamed that my generous, strange affinity for frozen pizzas would reap any sort of positive benefit - but last night, it paid off big-time.

Please explain

Yesterday, as mentioned, I took the bus to meet Josh for a Twins game.  It requires just one transfer and drops me at Target Field's front door for the meager fee of $2.25.  It usually also comes with some bus shenanigans, which I appreciate.

I walked a few blocks from my home to the bus stop, where a hipster was sitting in the grass nearby, listening to music while he waited for the bus.  At the sidewalk extension that denotes a bus stop, I noticed two bananas and one avocado, both in pristine condition, sitting neatly next to the curb.  I frowned.  I looked at the hipster and he made 1) no mention of claiming the produce and 2) no acknowledgement of how weird this sight was.  The next step was obvious but also ran the risk of falling prey to some sort of strange prank or performance art.  I took out my camera and furtively took a photo of the scene, my dignity loosely intact.

Minutes went by, as is customary when waiting for this particular bus.  Two other passengers arrived at the bus stop.  Neither one claimed the groceries.  At the very least, this was a sad waste of an avocado, but I speculated that it may have been injected with arsenic.  I started to wonder if it was actually some sort of code meant for someone else.  My imagination began to run wild.

"If one banana is out, tonight's capers are on.  If two bananas and an avocado are out, they're off!"

Then the bus pulled up, and all four of us stepped over the produce and boarded the bus. 

When we drove past the intersection, all three pieces were gone.

Help me!!  What happened?