S'more - Cookie Giveaways (and S'more Chances to Give)

Sorry this is so late. As you'll see in the first video, Christopher and I were out of town this past week. I thought I'd have no problem tackling a blog post from where we were staying, but the video uploads were a bit daunting on shared wi-fi, so I decided to delay until we got home. 

So, without further ado, let's get into these perfect cozy treats.

And - to prove that we were away, here's some video of me by a fire:

Now, before we go any further, I want to remind you all that in November (humor me and pretend this post went up on November 30th like it was supposed to), I've been sharing some GoFundMe projects. And - if you shared the blog posts they were in - you could be entered into a chance to win a plate of cookies. 

I'm not including any new donation sites this week, but here is a recap of the ones we've seen so far: 

Last week, we had Bobby and his family, who lost their home while he was fighting the fires in Northern California: 

Their link is here: Local Firefighter Family Loses Home.

The week before that, we had Derek, who is dealing with cancer and all that comes with that diagnosis:

His link is here: Help Derek Fight.

And we started the month with Kara, a caregiver who needs some help to cover medical expenses so that she can continue to follow her life's path: 

Her link is here: Help Me Walk Again.

Although there aren't any new links this week, the idea is the same: If you share out this post, you can be entered into the cookie drawing. This week, though, even if you just want to share (or donate to) any of the GoFundMe sites (with or without sharing my blog), just let me know (possibly mention it in the comments on this post) and I'll enter you into the drawing. (After all, the point of this is really to amplify the stories of these three sites.)

But now, back to this week's food. I'm sure you all know that there are three basic ingredients: 

Or, four, really:

The fire source can change, but there does need to be a good heat source.

I decided to be organized for this (typically, I'm in mid-marshmallow-roast when I realize that the other pieces are still in the kitchen), so here are the steps I followed with you in mind: 

1) Graham crackers: 

2) Hershey bars:

3) Marshmallows: 

3.1) Marshmallows on a long stick:

Not only did the grilling fork have a heat-resistant handle, it also held two marshmallows at a time! Bonus!

4) Fire:

In trying to do this all proper-like, I even pulled the marshmallows out before they went up in flames. This way, they were simply hot, melty, and malleable.

Honestly, you have no idea how hard it was for me to pull them out before they were totally flambé-ed.

At this point, it's all about assembly, or what I like to think of as the "slide and smoosh" steps: 

a) slide:

b) smoosh:

Note: Apparently marshmallows smell really good to some dogs. This is the very hopeful look I was getting through most of this process: 

She couldn't reach the mantle, thankfully. 

And, just because, here's the wrap-up video, so you can see me get the marshmallow stuck in my mustache:

Oh. Okay. I can't lie. I did do a few extra marshmallows to a more well-done state. Some things you just have to do...

Because, really, the charred outer layer is just the best, isn't it? 

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*Disclaimer: I'll be trying to draw a winner each week before the next post goes up. Everyone who shares the post (or one of the GoFundMe sites) in a way that I can track it (or who lets me know that sharing has happened) will be entered into the drawing for the plate of cookies (shipping within the US, only). One entry per share, so feel free to share multiple times. No extra entries for making a donation to the fundraising pages, but don't let that stop you. 

**Week Three's winner is Jessi B. from Alaska. She'll be getting something in the mail as soon as I make my next batch of cookies (which, this time of year, could be at any moment)!

Editing 101: The Case of the Traveling Case

Sometimes a misplaced modifier (those words or phrases that are supposed to talk about one thing, but seem to talk about another) are really just too fun to ignore.

I came across this gem a while back, and it stayed with me (so to speak), so I decided that I had to share it:

"Upon entry into the unnaturally silent apartment, the suitcase was exactly where it was supposed to be."

I love the way that sentence progresses - from the creepy factor of the "unnaturally silent" room, to the kind of joyous feeling of knowing that the suitcase has found its place in the world.

Let us hope that we all find ourselves as contented as that suitcase at least once in our lives.


(Yes, I know that the author intended to say "Upon entry... I found the suitcase..." and, thanks to her editor - that'd be me - her future readers will know that, too.)

Over the River, Through the Woods, and Into the Kitchen

With Thanksgiving behind us, and a whole lot of holidays ahead of us (I mean... really... just google "How many holidays are in December?" and you can find 30+ holidays covering pretty much every continent), there's probably about a 50/50 chance that you'll be travelling.

And, if you're someone who cooks (or bakes) there's an even better chance that you'll be expected to cook (or bake) something while travelling.

Most of the time this means you're taking something that is already done. So you wrap your casserole dish in layers of kitchen towels and put it in the car hoping it doesn't get too cold by the time you get across town. Or you gingerly wrap a layered set of waxed paper, plastic wrap, and foil around your cake so it doesn't crumble by the time you get out of the car six hours later.

Sometimes, though, you're heading somewhere where you'll have enough time - and maybe even enough space - to put something together on the other end of the trip. This is what we did over Thanksgiving.

You see, my parents' house is about six hours away from where Christopher and I live (less if I'm driving alone, more if we're driving with the pup in the car), and since we were driving down on Thursday my parents agreed to do "Thanksgiving dinner" on Friday. Mom was all set to make the main meal, but I volunteered to make the pumpkin pie.

I grew up in my mom's kitchen. And, although a few things have moved since I left home in the late '80s, I still feel pretty much at home when I'm in that kitchen. I know where the bowls are. I know where the measuring spoons are. And I know where the spices used to be. But I've also learned over the past few years that as Mom and Dad have scaled back their cooking, some ingredients haven't been getting restocked. So I had to plan ahead.

I didn't want to try to bake the pie in advance and take it with us (the car was already going to be filled with everything we have to take to keep the pooch safe and happy in their house), so I opted to take almost everything with me.

Canned pumpkin? check. Lard for the crust? check. Spices and sugars? check. The only things I didn't plan to take were the flour (for the crust) and eggs - which I knew they'd have. (Oddly enough, although I had planned to take evaporated milk, I forgot it - luckily there was some in the pantry.)

I won't lie - it felt a little strange just dumping the entire bag of ingredients into the pumpkin without measuring it. But it turned out great (even with a slight hiccup due to the fact that when I thought I was turning off the oven timer I actually turned off the oven, itself). So great, in fact, that I have no photos to share of the finished product.

Gee... It's almost like there could be a whole industry out there of prepared foods and mixes. I wonder if anyone has ever thought of that.

**For the record: The recipe I always use for pumpkin pie is from The Joy of Cooking. It's not overly sweet, and the spices - cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and cloves - really play nicely with the flavor of the pumpkin.

Learning My Own Lesson

As I've mentioned I was going to do, I went to Idaho last weekend and gave two talks on the subject of "The Seven Deadly Sins of Self Publishing." They went pretty well, and I'm really glad I did it. But that's not what this post is about.

This post is actually about listening to your teachers, paying attention to words of wisdom, and following the right path - even when you're the one who is teaching/imparting/pointing it out.

You see, I've been feeling pretty good about the two sessions. Yes, three people nodded off during the first session, but the conference room was probably about 80 degrees and pretty stuffy and at about 3:30 in the afternoon they'd all been in and out of sessions for 7 hours. Plus... well... the majority of the audience were not spring chickens, so they hadn't ever learned to over caffeinate to keep going. And it was only three people out of about 18, so I figure that's pretty good.

By the second session, I was a bit more on my game (remember - it has been 20+ years since I last taught a class), and of the 12 people in attendance, only 1 nodded off. And I saw her nod off at the banquet that evening, as well. So I figure she might do that a lot.

From what I've learned, there were about 45 people in attendance at the conference. I had about 30 of them listening to me between the two sessions. Plus I had 4 people sign up for one-on-one writing coaching sessions in advance, then 1 signed up after hearing me speak - and one of the original four signed up for a second session with me to try to answer some more of her questions, and truly seemed energized by what we discussed.

After each session, people came up to chat. People struck up conversations with me later on. And someone even asked if I'd be coming to their conference next year.

I left there feeling pretty darned good about it all. I texted Christopher and we chatted on the phone and I told him all about it. I couldn't wait to get back to work today and talk about it with people.

Then, as I was sitting in the office this afternoon, my boss came in and asked how it had gone. I told him I thought it had gone well - that I had handed out all of my business cards and lots of people asked about the company - and that I was glad I had gone. He asked how many people attended, and I gave him the ballpark numbers, and told him how many people I had spoken to. And he just kind of looked at me and said "Oh," which seemed to include a mix of "Is that all?" and "I'm glad we're not paying you for that." in his voice.

I went from really proud of my weekend to feeling like the conference might have been a bust.

Then someone asked me what my talk was about. And I told him my topic. He asked what the Sins are, as I see them. And he laughed with me as I listed them off, ending with "Sin #7: Judging your success by anyone else's standard." To which he said "Sounds like a good idea for life in general."

Lightbulb. Lightning bolt. Whack upside the head with a pillow. All the cartoon cliches for epiphany moments.

No. I wasn't the opening act at Madison Square Garden. No. I didn't do a Ted talk with 47,000 views on YouTube. What I did do was step out of my daily life, put my skills and knowledge to good use, and - hopefully - make a difference in a few people's lives. Maybe inspiring a few people to write some more. Maybe convincing a few writers to consider self publishing. Maybe reminding some frustrated self-published authors that success is what you make of it.

And I had fun doing it. Which is why this weekend will become cocktail party conversation for the next few months, while the eight hours I spent at work today will simply become a footnote.

I guess you could say I learned my lesson - I just needed someone else to remind me.

Sin Manufacturing

In what I'm realizing more and more is a bit of a strange and exciting turn of events, later this week I'll be speaking at the Idaho Writers League annual conference.

My talk is going to be a little about editing, but mainly about the world of self publishing. So, when I was working up the topic proposal, I was debating what to call it. I didn't want to go for anything too bland (because I want people to come to it), but I didn't want a title that was all flash, because I also wanted people to know what to expect.

After some consideration, I came up with "The Seven Deadly Sins of Self-Publishing."

I like it. It's catchy. It's sort of self-explanatory. It's a little intriguing and a tad irreverent (which, hopefully, is what the talk will be like, too).

There's only one problem: I have to come up with Seven Deadly Sins of Self-Publishing.

Oh - and I have to make them last for 90 minutes.

(For a little context, I just read the above text out loud and timed it: 45 seconds. So I need to do something like 120 times that.)

I've got a partial outline that includes interactive moments. Q&As. And at least one quick writing exercise. 

I also have a reminder to make sure that I have a very large glass of water with me.

What I don't have, so far is those Seven Sins.

Perhaps I should start with "Deadly Sin #1: Titling your book before you have any content" but that might be just a little too on the nose.

Where, Oh Where...?

There are moments when I realize that I have no idea where things are.

I'm not talking about my keys, or my glasses (I'm one of those people who has had glasses since he was a little kid, so I always know where my glasses are).

I'm talking about geographical things.

I mean... I do pretty darned well with maps, and when faced with map quizzes (or while watching The Amazing Race), I usually know where things are. But I sometimes get things confused.

Yesterday, for instance, I was talking about Cancun, and said that I thought there was an imminent tropical storm. But as soon as I said that, I thought "I'm pretty sure that's wrong."

When I finally got to look at a map, I realized that Cancun is on the Yucatan Peninsula (the piece of Mexico that separates the Gulf of Mexico from the Atlantic Ocean on most maps). The tropical storm, on the other hand, is on the western side of Mexico, near Cabo San Lucas and Baja California.

Yeah... Nowhere near where I was thinking.

What frustrates me the most is that I really should have known this. After all, I watched enough Love Boat when I was growing up to know that the ports of call from Los Angeles were Cabo San Lucas, Puerto Vallarta, and Acapulco... Captain Steubing would have been so disappointed in me.

Almost Back

Apparently my blog is dealing with a bit of jetlag. Okay... okay... I admit that it's me that has the jetlag. You see, for two weeks beginning on Easter weekend, Christopher and I were in France. We spent a week in Paris having a reunion with some friends, then spent a week in Nice (and all around that area) playing tourist. We got back a few days ago.

While I was gone, you were reading all of the things I'd been storing up for a while. I hope you liked some of the quotes - even though it did kind of combine into a bit of navel-gazing when you looked at it with the "Why I Edit" piece.

I had every intention of getting back to my regular postings earlier this week, but then... well... I had forgotten how bad jetlag is when you're flying from east to west. The first day or two in Paris I adjusted really easily, and so I thought "on the way home, it should be just as easy..." and then we got home and I spent the first full day on adrenaline, and then two days at work in a total fog.

I was all excited that I stayed up until 11 last night watching last week's episode of "The Amazing Race." But then I woke up in the middle of the night having weird Amazing Race-related dreams, which continued after I fell back to sleep and resulted in me waking up tired. Again.

So tonight it's barely 9:30 and I'm going to call it a day. I promise to be back to the regular posting schedule as soon as I can keep my eyes open. I hope to even download my pictures from my camera this weekend, so I'll get you some of those, too. Hopefully they'll be less foggy than my brain.

Travel Tuesday - Doc Check

A while back, planning for the hoped-for eventuality of more travel of the international nature, I applied for a Global Entry card. Or something like that. I have to admit that I've seen it called so many different things that I'm really not sure what it's called.

But it's this card that - along with your passport - can make it easier to get through Border Patrol on the way back into the United States.

The process isn't too bad, these days. Christopher got his a couple of years ago, and at that time there wasn't anywhere around here to go, so he had to go to Montreal for it. I, on the other hand, just had to go to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport.

Well, first I had to pay my money and fill out my application and get the provisional approval. Then I had to schedule the appointment and head for the airport. Where - on the day I was going - the main terminal parking was completely full. So I had to drive to the other terminal (at MSP they're maybe a mile or so apart by car, with a light rail shuttle), then run through the first terminal, hop the train, run through the second terminal, and then - although I'd arrived an hour early - show up 5 minutes late.

The interview was fine. The agent took my photo with his webcam, showed me where the number was on my form, and sent me on my way. And, about a week later, I got my card in the mail.

Of course, I looked at it right away, only to find that the photo is kind of skewed. Really. My head in the picture is a very odd shape. But it'll work. So I set it aside for the next time I travel.

This morning - for no apparent reason - I pulled it back out of the envelope and notice that the side of the letter said "Activate your card within one month or various dire circumstances could befall you" or something like that.

Umm... No clue whatsoever when my card came in the mail. Was it a month ago? Was it less than a month? I hopped on line - because who really wants to be at work on time, right? - and after about 18 attempts at logging into my account (because I never thought I'd need to log in, obviously), I got it activated.

Note to self: When you get any kind of travel documents, look them over. Really look them over. Then do it again.

Perspective Can Be... Fun...?

At lunch today (because I actually left my desk and went to lunch today), we were having a discussion about the relative size of Paris.

Why? Why not?

But, to be more precise, it was because a friend of ours is going to be running in the Paris marathon in April. And I thought it was interesting that for the 26.2-mile course to all fit "in" Paris they apparently start in the city, run through the city out into one of the massive parks in the suburbs, then back through the city and all through the massive park on the other side of town before coming back into the city to finish up.

When they do the marathon in the Twin Cities, it starts in one downtown, runs along the river, through the other city and into the other downtown. That's it. Just a (relatively) straight shot, and it's done. None of this criss-crossing back and forth across the cityscape. Just start - go - done.

So that got me to thinking about the relative sizes of the two metropolitan areas. I played around online with a couple of Google maps, and figured out that - from north to south - all of Paris would fit between where Christopher and I live and downtown Minneapolis.

From east to west, it's a little more interesting, but Paris would fit completely between the western edge of the city of Minneapolis (not including suburbs, mind you), and extend just a bit beyond Interstate 35W. That's not the easternmost edge of Minneapolis. It's kind of 2/3 of the way across.

This means that all of the actual city of Paris (not including suburbs) would fit in a space about 1/3 the size of the city of Minneapolis - not including suburbs, and not including St. Paul.*

What really made me think is that when I lived in Paris I would occasionally get a wild hair and walk places, instead of taking the Metro or the bus. I'd do a half-hour walk, or maybe even an hour, without thinking about it. When I checked a couple of those distances, I realized that I could almost walk from home to downtown - at least according to Google - in the same timeframes. Which I would never do.

It's weird how your perspective changes - not just due to the angle you're looking from, but also due to what you're looking at.

*For the record, I'm still thinking I must have been doing something wrong, because that just seems kind of impossible...

Choose Your Own Adventure... Or Don't

What would you do if you found yourself at the airport on a Wednesday afternoon with your passport, your credit card, and no desire to go back to work?

Would you book a flight and disappear?

Would you go to your Global Entry interview appointment, then leave and go back home?

Or would you find some other option?

It's probably obvious since I'm blogging tonight that I didn't fly off into the sunset, but I really did consider it for a little while.

I left work early today to go to the airport to finish the process of getting my Global Entry information set up, so that it will - hopefully - be faster to go through Customs and Border Patrol when I travel in the future. (Because this year I plan to get farther out of the Cities that my parents' house in South Dakota.)

This means that, after four hours of slogging through the manuscript I'm working on, I found myself standing in the airport with all of my documents. I was standing next to the Arrivals and Departures boards and thinking "Where could I go...?"

But then I turned around and headed back to my car to run a couple of errands, grab lunch, and head home.

Then, in a really great turn of events, Christopher and I spent some time tonight looking into our next trip - for which I'll use my passport, my credit card, AND my new Global Entry info.

Choosing my next adventure... made even more exciting because it will be our next adventure.

Thinking of Paris

Alright... I started writing this about four days ago. We'll see where it ends up.

With the news of the shooting at the offices of Charlie Hebdo this week, I've been thinking a lot about Paris. Not just because of the shooting, but because - as many of you know - I spent a year living and teaching in Paris 25 years ago.

I've been thinking about the people who lost their lives, and what they went through, and while I've been watching the news stories I've been trying to figure out where the shooting took place. I'm not sure why that matters to me, but somewhere in my mind it's important, and so I keep searching for that information.

I think the location matters to me, in part, because the site of some of the big demonstrations the past two nights have been in the Place de la Republique - which was where I caught the Metro pretty much every day that I lived there. And I want to feel like the places that I know from Paris are safe. It's irrational, but I think we all have those irrational rationalizations that keep us sane at night.

I've also been thinking about Paris and the attack a lot because, when I lived there, the apartment I shared was on the ground floor of a building and we could often hear people walking along a hallway next to our apartment, but outside there wasn't really any marking for what that hallway might have led to. There was just a small plaque with some initials on it and a buzzer. Eventually - about 2/3 of the way through my stay - we found out that behind the roll-up metal door was another door. And, behind that door (and down the hallway beside our apartment) was a Jewish Youth Center. It was "camouflaged" because there was such a strong anti-Semitic fervor in France at the time that they were worried about bombings. (Not gonna lie - I'm really glad I learned that late in the year, and not just before I moved in...)

And, yes, I'm also thinking about it because in about 3 months Christopher and I will be meeting up with friends in Paris. And although nothing will stop us from going, I'm trying to keep an eye on everything to make sure that we know what we'll be walking into.
--
So, I wrote all of that, and was having some trouble figuring out where it was going. That's one of the things about tragedy - you never know what's going to happen, next, or when that next shoe will drop. And that's scary. Frustrating. Sad. 

But then the news reports started to come in about the acts of heroism during the shooting and the aftermath. The Muslim employee of a Kosher market who hid people in the freezer to protect them. The Muslim police office whose family is speaking out about his tragic death at the hands of one of the terrorists. The acts of bravery start to make the rest a little less scary. Not a lot, but a little.

And then... then we see the reports of the demonstrations. And the million or more people who staged a "unity demonstration" in Paris, simply to say that they wouldn't be beaten by the acts of a few extremists.

One of the drawings that has circulated a lot in the past few days has been of a pencil being broken, then the broken piece being sharpened and - in the end - becoming two pencils. The strength that can come from adversity. The power in coming together. That part of the human existence that says that when we come together for peace, we can move mountains. That's what I was looking for.

Paris has always been a city of my dreams. A city of wonder and amazement, even when I was living there and had come to see the dirty sidewalks and the street beggars. Seeing the city work so hard to recover from such tragedy makes me believe in the magic of the Parisian power to fascinate and overcome all over again.

Paris, je t'aime.

The One-day Work-week

The past few weeks of work have been very strange for me.

I started December with two normal weeks of M-F work. Then I was off for a week of vacation.

So far, that's not so bad, because it just meant a week off, then going back in on Monday.

But that Monday was the 22nd of December. So I worked on Monday and Tuesday, then our offices were closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. And, on top of that, I drove to South Dakota for time with my family on the 26th, came back to Minneapolis on the 29th, and went back to work on the 30th.

Then we had a half-day on the 31st, were off on the 1st, and - in essence - worked a one-day work-week today before starting a new weekend.

I fully understand that, of all of the problems in the world, this does not really rank anywhere near the top. Heck, in most lists, this wouldn't even be considered a problem, let alone a ranking one.

But when you're trying to get things done - like working on projects that last more than a couple of hours (possibly edits of 300-page books) - it can really muck up your process.

(It might even make you start daydreaming about other places to be, and other things to do, just so you can get through the day... Paris, perhaps; or dinner out with friends; or, if life is really good, a daydream about dinner out with friends in Paris...)

(Not that I would ever really daydream about such things at work. After all, in this day and age, it's much easier to just google it all...)

So Close, and Yet, So Far

I have a strangely conflicted worldview tonight. 

On the one hand, Christopher is pretty much half a world away from me right now. Cape Town, South Africa, may not be exactly on the opposite side of the world, but between the distance east, and the distance south, it sure seems like he's about as far away as he can be. 

On the other hand, though, my phone rang this afternoon, and it was - out of the blue - Christopher. We had kind of agreed before he left that we wouldn't talk on the phone, but instead we'd text and email and "see" each other on social media. Calling, we figured, would be too expensive - assuming that his cellphone would even be able to work from there. 

So I was sitting at my computer, home from all of my errands, typing up an email to him. And then the phone rang. And I heard his voice on the other end of the line for the first time in 10 days. Suddenly the world was very small. 

We talked about where he's staying (his balcony overlooks the pool and vineyard...). We talked about what I've been up to (no balcony, no vineyard, just errands). And we talked about the fact that we'll get to see each other on Friday. For about 15 minutes, the world was small enough for us to talk about anything and everything, and enjoy each other's company. 

Not gonna lie, though. Hanging up the phone, the world expanded again pretty quickly, and he seemed to be almost farther away than he had been before. Friday seems further away, too. 

Careful... It'll Get Stuck In Your Head...

Last winter, the driver's window in my car got frozen shut. As I worked to try to get it to release (trying the "a little up, a little down" maneuver), it didn't get any better. So, eventually, I spent much of the winter simply opening my door whenever I needed to do something most people would do with the window down.

I got really good at reaching out to scan my parking garage pass. I figured out which drive-through banks were easier to get to. I even tackled getting drive-through food a few times.

When it got warmer out, the window worked again. Then it got cold again (does anyone remember how cold Minneapolis was last winter?), and it re-froze. After about three cycles of that, it no longer opened even when the weather was warm.

I spent a few months adjusting, but aside from the drive-through stuff, it wasn't a huge problem. Usually, when I'm driving, I open the front passenger window and rear driver's window for a cross current. So... No biggie.

Then, a few months back, we were doing something and Christopher just reached over and hit the window button. And it worked. No problems at all. Except that, when it went all the way down, it didn't seem to stop, so it would make a CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK sound. And the same happened when it went "too far" up. As if the mechanism pushing it was simply flapping against the window, instead of pushing it.

So I once again stopped using it.

Yes, I know that I could have fixed it at any point along in there, but I was trying to save money, and figured I could just live with it. But then it threw another curve ball. It stopped staying closed.

Now, it never actually dropped all the way down or anything. But as I was driving along, I started noticing that traffic noise would get louder. When I looked over, I noticed that the window was just ever-so-slightly open. Maybe 1/16th of an inch. Barely worth noticing. So I'd lift up on the window button, it would CLUNK, and the window would seal. For a while.

This week, though, it started to drop by about 1/4 inch. And that's a lot. Especially in damp/rainy weather. And with cold rain expected tomorrow, and the definite possibility of snow in the next month... It was time.

So I took it in today to get it worked on. Both of the major pieces that work the window were dead. One was cheap. One was... not. I'm really glad I've been saving up.

But the important thing is that, as I was leaving the grocery store to come home, they called me to say it was ready. And I went and picked up my car. The window, for one thing, is SO clean. Kind of freaky clean.

I had to try it. Before I was even out of the parking lot, I had already rolled it down once, and back up. On the way home, I was like the annoying little kid who realizes, for the first time, what that button does and spends the entire drive rolling the window up and down. I was giddy by the time I got home. Pushing the button to let it auto-open. Pulling the button up to listen to the "whoosh-schwump" as it sealed.

The windows in my car go up and down... up and down... up and down... The windows in my car go up and down... I'll be using them all over town.

Decisivity

I am, for the most part, a very decisive person. When presented with options which need to be whittled down in short order, I'm the kind of person who typically just makes a choice and is done with it. And - usually - I don't deal with any kind of "buyer's remorse."

But, at the same time, sometimes I'm horrible at acting on the decisions I've made. For instance, I'll decide that it's time to buy a new pair of shoes because the ones I've got are starting to wear out. But then it will take me another couple of months to actually buy the new shoes.

I'll decide, after debating the pros and cons, that I want to take a specific trip (not simply that I want to take a trip, because we all know that I always want to take a trip), but then I'll spend a while rolling it around in my head before getting around to booking it.

That last one is what I'm dealing with right now. I've made the decision to take a weekend trip to a conference in September. I've looked into hotels. I've contacted people I might meet up with. I've researched the schedule. But I haven't actually booked any of it, yet. I haven't even requested the day I need off from work.

I've been trying to figure that out for the past couple of days. I know that part of my delay is making sure I have the cashflow to do it. But there also seems to be some lingering "but what if something comes up?" going on. (Because the best hotel rates are non-refundable, of course.)

So I'm kind of sitting in the middle. Deciding that I'm going to travel, but not sure when - exactly - or where I'll be - exactly.

If this were a matter of great importance, I'd have taken care of it all months ago. As it is, however, it seems that my decisivity meter is on the fritz.

Travel Tuesday - Home Tourist-ing

I think I mentioned on Sunday (though I'm not going to go back and look) that I had a really good weekend.

A great friend of ours was in town from New York City over the weekend. She'd never been to the Twin Cities, so it was up to Christopher and me to show her around. We had just over three days to show her everything that makes us happy about the Cities. And I think we did really well.

Why do I think that? Well... For one thing, I found myself getting really excited about showing her places that I like to go to. We took her to eat at Black Sheep Pizza in Minneapolis, and we took her shopping at The Golden Fig in St. Paul. We took pictures with the Peanuts statues in St. Paul and the Mary Tyler Moore statue in Minneapolis.

And I truly found myself excited to show her each of those things.

I pointed out my old apartment. We showed her Christopher's office (from the way cool observation deck of the Foshay tower - which neither of us had ever been to in the past). We went to brunch and I pointed out my oral surgeon's office across the hallway from the Egg & I. (Okay. Maybe the last of those isn't quite as interesting as the first two.)

But it wasn't just the "out and about" things that made it great.

Just being home and hanging out felt different. For 3 full days, I really didn't think about work - at all. I didn't worry about what I should or shouldn't have been doing. I truly let myself just enjoy my time.

It was amazing. I think that, for the first time ever, I truly understand the reason why people talk about how much they enjoy "staycations." Although, I guess that it might be hard to have people come from out of town each time I want a little down time. But maybe I'll start working on that.

Minneapolis Tourism

I've spent much of the past 2 days playing various amounts of tourist in and around Minneapolis.

It's funny how many things you don't do when you live in a city until someone new comes to town and wants to be shown around.

Yesterday evening, Christopher and I went to the top of the first skyscraper west of the Mississippi. This, of course, was after I had taken our out-of-town guest to the Mall of America because... well... you have to, right?

Today we took pictures of and from the Guthrie. We walked all over downtown - on the street and in the skyways. We also went out into the hinterlands to tour the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum.

And, of course, we wrapped up the day by coming home and serving our guest her very first meal of Tater Tot hotdish.

Who knows what the next two days might hold?

Nothing but a Dreamer?

So, as you may remember from Sunday, two of my cousins are currently in Paris. Where I used to live. A lifetime ago.

I've been back there a few times since then, but it's one of those cities that you kind of always want to go back to. Or at least it is for me. Of course, to be honest, depending on my mood, I might say I feel the same way about New York City, Montreal, Vancouver, San Francisco, London, and a number of other places.

Even so, typically, the places that I make an effort to get back to are places where I know people - even if the cities aren't all that exciting to me. So most of the places where I don't know people kind of take a back seat.

But, with my cousins in Paris - and with the knowledge that Christopher and I are hoping to go to Paris next spring to celebrate one of the milestone anniversaries of my time in Paris - it's hard not to daydream about it.

Today, that kind of came to a head when one of my cousins sent me a few photos of the street I used to live on. Sure, the street seems to have gone downhill (there was a lot of graffiti), but there also seemed to have been a lot of construction going on, which is a good sign.

And, somehow, they stumbled across the actual building I lived in. My apartment faced the street on the ground floor. So when they took a picture of the building, they were taking a picture of my actual apartment.

I swear to you that I did not get teary over the photo. (I may have gotten teary a bit later while thinking about what my year in the apartment in the photo has meant to my life, but that's a whole different idea.) But while trying to work on a really bad edit at work, I have to admit that the photo (which I kept up in a secondary browser at the back of my screen) sent me into a couple of hours of daydreaming.

On the plus side, though, considering that we already have the framework of plans for taking our trip next spring, I don't have to say that I'm "nothing but a dreamer" - because I can say that I'm also a planner. And if we learned anything from Sunday's post, we know how much that means to me.

Wherein I Blame My Genetics (in a Good Way)

I have two cousins who are currently in Paris. Because I lived there for about a year a number of years ago, I'm always ready to give people tourist advice if they're going there.

Whether they want it or not.

I mean... I try to wait until they ask, but once they ask I figure it's fair game. And - since Christopher has also travelled to Paris a number of times, but has had different experiences than I have had (most of our travels there have been separate), I tend to also recommend places that he has suggested. So, if pressed, we could probably pre-plan about two weeks' worth of sightseeing in and around Paris for people.

But, you see, that makes perfect sense to me. I think it's a genetic predisposition to wanting to plan travel. It comes from my mom's side of the family, mostly.

When I was a little kid and we would go to visit my grandparents in Los Angeles, we'd arrive to find a calendar of events that were all planned. Our time was split among various relatives, and we knew when we arrived that we wouldn't have to make many decisions.

The same is true for people going to visit my parents. When we were growing up and people would be coming for a family reunion over the Fourth of July, my mom would put together a full list of things that were either Scheduled or Optional - just to make sure no one got bored. And this continues to this day.

My sisters do the same kinds of things. When my parents go to visit them (they live close enough together that my parents can visit both families at the same time), the schedule is pretty much set before Mom and Dad get there.

And, yes, I do the same exact thing. Before anyone arrives at our door, I've got a list of proposed ideas in mind. For instance, when my folks come to visit, I pretty much know which day we're most likely to go out to dinner, which day we're most likely to cook in, and which day would be best for them to go visit with other relatives.

I swear that it's all because I'm genetically pre-disposed to plan vacations and "visits."

This is, in part, why the fact that a good friend of ours coming into town in 3 weeks from New York has already received 2 surveys of things to eat and things to do. (Although she does not realize it, this is on top of the schedule I've already worked out in my head - and cleared with Christopher.) I believe we have enough to fill about 9 days on a calendar, although she's only going to be here for 3.5 days.

There is, of course, the chance that she'll get here and we'll completely throw everything out the window except for one or two must-do events that she and I have already confirmed. But I love the fact that it's all put together and plotted out in advance, just in case.

After all, I wouldn't want to let down the generations of planners who came before me, would I?

Travel Envy, in Perspective

This has been an odd year for me. After Christopher and I got back from Alaska last fall, I kind of immediately started thinking of where I might go next. It's one of the ways that I get through the day-to-day at work: planning my next trip.

So we started talking about various trips, and Christopher (who gets more vacation time than I do), started planning some trips with other friends.

And then, thanks to the miracles of social media, I started seeing all of the trips friends of ours were taking. For some reason, this was a very big year for friends of mine to go to Disney parks.

Yeah... it's now July, and I'm looking at no trips outside of the Minnesota/South Dakota duo of states any time between now and next spring. That's weird for me.

But, as I was talking to a friend tonight at dinner, she mentioned that one of her bucket list items is to go to New York City. She's never been and just can't wait to be able to go there.

Since I lived in Baltimore for a number of years, New York was an easy trip to take for a day or two.

So here I am... feeling a little sorry for myself for not having a vacation this year, and hearing that someone else would give almost anything to go somewhere I've gone many times before.

It's a weird perspective. Kind of like when you're staring at something and if you close one eye you see point A, but if you close the other eye you see point B. When what you really want is to see a good way for getting to point B from point A in the first place.