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the 411 on 5/29.

30 May
It was a long, wonderful weekend that began on Saturday with the arrival of my mom and sister for a picnic on the lawn of the Bockman dorm on campus.  We ate in the sunshine with my friend, Cassie, and her parents, and then meeted and greeted the CYF staff.  A group photo was taken on the steps of Bockman.  [My sister had my camera and took some great shots.]  Grandma and Grandpa Danielson arrived in time for baccalaureate – a communion service – in a tent as it poured outside and Grandma’s chair got wet. 
After baccalaureate, we ran off to my apartment where my awesome family helped me lift, move, and load boxes and a bed into their vehicles.  Truth is, I haven’t completely moved in the last five years – meaning some of my things had always remained in storage somewhere – and now that I finally have to completely move, I have a lot of stuff.  It’s actually quite frightening.  Between mom’s car, Grandma and Grandpa Danielson’s car, later a car of Aunt Peggy’s and a few bags and boxes into the back of Reilly’s van, a dent was made in getting my things from MN to WI.  [But I still have work to do.  Packing.  Loading.  I procrastinate by blogging.  And by going to the movies later with my friends.  Eh.]  We went to one of my favorite places for dinner – Big Bowl Chinese and Thai – and all settled in for the night with the family staying at a local hotel.  

Sunday was the day!  The family and I – with additions of Karen and Mark from Stillwater, and M. and her parents – had brunch at a local restaurant.  The food was delicious and we were able to entertain ourselves with boots of crayons and the white paper that covered the tables.

From the restaurant, we moved onto Central Lutheran in Minneapolis for the ceremony.  It was a fun service. Clapping, yelling “Amen!” and grinning ear to ear as Joel rapped his speech on behalf of the students.  I couldn’t help but smile after I walked up the steps and across the platform to receive my diploma and master’s hood.  I loved my hood – it felt so great around my neck.  [I think it looked pretty good on me too!]  Four years of class and work completed and symbolized in the master’s hood.  Truth of the matter is that we use the hoods for the ceremony and then must return them after photos.  I wanted to keep the hood and not give it back so I could wear it around the house.  *sad face.*
We took many a photo with the robe, the hood, and the diploma.  It was a mess of searching for family and friends in the chaos outside of the doors of the church, but once we found each other, hugs were given and photographs taken.  Watch the slideshow.  *giddy face.*

My family made off for home right after the ceremony.  I grabbed an ice coffee, stared at my diploma with a goofy grin, and had pizza with pal, James, who was visiting.  More friends and I met at Mannings, the unofficial seminary bar, to celebrate further.  To simply sit at home last night would have seemed far too anti-climatic.
It was a great weekend of celebration with friends and family alike.  With graduation behind me, it’s onto serious packing with hopes of moving home on Wednesday.  Two words: too soon.

senior awards.

26 May
My sister and I are both seniors and graduating, me from seminary and her from high school.  Last night was the senior awards night at Edgerton High and my sister not only received scholarship awards, she also gave one.
You see, my family presents a scholarship to a graduating FFA [Future Farmers of America … oh yeah] senior each year in memory of my dad.  In the years past, my mom has presented the award at the banquet night.  Last night, with my sister already sitting on stage as a senior, she presented the award to one of her fellow classmates.  I love that she did this and wish I could have been home to see her both give and receive scholarships. 

She sent her little speech to me to proof and I couldn’t even read it without crying.  I think she did an awesome job.  Here is what she said:

“Good evening everyone,
My name is Emma S– and I am a senior here at Edgerton High School and I’m here to present the John S– Memorial Scholarship in memory of my dad, John.
Growing up, I lived on a farm with my three older siblings, Matt Ben and Lindsay, my mom Leanne, and my dad John. On the farm we raised cattle and grew corn, soybeans, and tobacco. My dad learned to work hard from his upbringing on a local farm. I remember helping my dad with chores around the farm. My dad was a hardworking farmer who taught my siblings and I responsibility and hard work. There was always the time of year when the whole family and friends helped plan and harvest tobacco in the fields. Sure there were those times when my siblings and I didn’t always feel like helping out; but it was those experiences that have helped shape who we are today. I will always remember harvesting the crops with my dad. We would go out in the fields in the combines to harvest the crops. He would let me ride along inside and sit on his lap.
When I was in sixth grade, my dad suddenly passed away. He was the hardest working person I knew. He was funny, considerate, and the greatest dad I could ask for.
My dad was a member of the FFA at high school here in Edgerton. He continued his involvement with FFA by being an active member of the FFA Alumni. One of the primary purposes of that group is to provide financial support to current FFA members.
To remember my dad for who he was as a farmer and friend, and on behalf of the S– family and Edgerton FFA Alumni, I would like to present the John S– Memorial Scholarship, in the amount of $500, to my fellow classmate …”

Monday was –

17 May
First of all, Monday felt like Friday.  
Second of all, Monday was just all sorts of emotions.  
Also all sorts of seven dwarf names.
Sleepy: I spent Sunday night with a sleepover at Sara’s.  We watched Modern Family, made two recipes off of Pinterest [lemon puppy chow and jello molded in citrus peels], and feel asleep to our usual movie – Pride and Prejudice.  We didn’t start the movie until well after midnight and we both casually dozed off as the music played in the background.  Sub-consciously, somehow, we both knew when to wake up.  I looked at my phone at 2:17am and then glanced over at the couch.  Sara was awake too and right at the time when Darcy first declares his feelings for Elisabeth.  [Watch the scene here.]  We stayed awake to watch him mutter the feelings he can bear no longer.  He loves her, most ardently.  *sigh*
Sara shakes it.  [the puppy chow]
Sleepy also will work as I then stayed awake until 2am this past morning.  Reading.  Three-quarters done with the second book in The Hunger Games after beginning it yesterday afternoon following class.  [It’s probably best if I just do nothing else and finish the series, right?  Not like I’ll get much done in the meantime.]
Happy: I completed and turned in my last final of my seminary career.  I also went to my final class period of seminary.  Can I get a wooten?!  [Whenever I text ‘woot’ on my phone, it auto-corrects to ‘wooten.’  I think I might just give in and start saying what the iPhone tells me I should say.  Though what is a ‘wooten’?  Any clue?]
Sneezy:  I sneezed.  Twice.
Dopey: I was a little dopey.  Truth is, my brother began his move to Alaska yesterday.  I heard last week that he got a job there and, while I had known he’d been looking, I had no idea he was moving so quickly.  He packed his camper, organized his life, and on the road he was by Monday morning.  Now my older brother moved to Colorado last year but Colorado just doesn’t seem as final or far as Alaska.  Airfare to CO is much more manageable than flying to Anchorage.  So Ben is moving … and I’ll miss him.  Since he became the boyfriend of a U of M student this spring, I actually saw him more than I have in many years past.  Plus, he’s taking his dog, Jetta.  I’ll miss Jetta lots too.
Grumpy: For the sake of the seven dwarfs, I’ll use this emotion but really, it was more frustration.  I had a macaron-making date with Melissa and our first batch, intended to be mint chocolate, failed miserably.  Like couldn’t even be salvaged to snack on.  Like epic fail.  [This did mean, however, that the mint leaves originally reserved for the filling of the mint macarons could now be repurposed for mojitos.  When life gives you mint leaves, make mojitos.]  Our second batch – coconut mango – turned out edible.  [Not necessarily pretty, but edible.]
Bashful and Doc: This is where the seven dwarf comparison fails me.  I’m out.

easter crafting.

26 Apr
Easter is my favorite holiday and has been since I was younger.  As a middle schooler, I threw Easter parties.  [I looked for many excuses to throw parties.  Halloween parties, camp-outs, Easter parties – all with designated projects, crafts, and invitations.  Looking back, that explains a lot about where I’m at now in regards to my party-throwing beliefs.]  We pinned the tail on the Easter bunny, went on egg hunts, and had themed food and prizes.  [I was a weird kid.  Weird.]
I’m all about egg-shaped fun.  This year, I tackled homemade kinder eggs with two different groups of friends.  Kinder eggs, you wonder?  You can purchase kinder eggs in Europe.  I first was introduced to them as a sophomore in high school when I journeyed to Spain for two weeks.  Hollow chocolate eggs – a layer of milk chocolate and one of white chocolate – wrapped in foil with a toy inside.  We were obsessed with these in Spain – OBSESSED.  When I found a website with directions to make your own kinder eggs inside of a real egg shell, I was totally on board.
 

It was really fun to do and to watch others make these.  You scoop melted chocolate into the hollowed and sterilized egg shell and then shake the shell, move it around, and peer inside to see that the chocolate coats around the entire shell.  We were all so quiet as we did it as we concentrated so hard!  I traveled home for break and repeated the chocolate craft with friends from high school, including this little guy, Ryan.  He liked to stuff the chocolate eggs with two m&ms and then eat one.  Two m&ms and then eat one.  Two m&ms and then eat five.  He was sent home quite full of sugar!
There were also cakepops to be made while I was home.  My cousins always wonder when we’ll make them and they want to do it every time I’m home.  Sam [seventh grader?  eighth grader?  I can’t keep track.] and I had this text exchange in regards to cakepop making –
“O my gosh lindsay.”  I love it.  We tackled chicks, easter eggs, and did a test run of the graduation cap cakepops.  It was a busy, messy, and fun night with nearly everyone pitching to help, or at least pitching in to eat a few.
Molly made an easter bunny and crazy alien with a mohawk dude.

Logan’s double fisting it with funfetti chicks.

four pictures.

13 Apr
Four pictures that showcase the joy of my day:

My brother, Ben, on his way back from Alaska via MSP, stopped at my apartment to teach me all about car fuses and replace the broken one that killed my radio, clock, and cigarette lighter.  I helped him find the spare fuses in the fuse box that was under the hood.  I asked, “How do I get it out?”  I had no needle nose pliers in my belt.  [I tell you, the ONE time I’m caught without them!]  There is a tool – a little plastic pincher grabber – in the fuse box to grab the fuses from their places!  Who knew?!  [Okay.  Maybe you did.]  I was certainly impressed.  He changed the fuse but I’m confident I could do it in future situations.  [Maybe.]
A letter from my penpal, C., was found in my mailbox today, complete with a flower!
A box of cakepop chicks and easter eggs sent off to my favorite staff members in Dawson.  Here’s hoping the sugar rush helps them get through the craziness that is holy week in a church.
Excuse me?  Say that one more time, please.  The world’s largest textile garage sale?!  I think I found my Saturday study break!  [I’m pretty sure this is the sale you told me about last year, Karen?  Maybe?  I totally happened upon the poster at a store in Stillwater this afternoon and, boy, am I glad I did!  To think I almost missed it!]

spring.

8 Apr
I love spring.  But don’t tell fall.  
The sunshine, the melting snow, and the warmer temperatures of the last couple days have been refreshing and an excellent way to stock up on the missing vitamin D in the body.  Rumor has it there may be a thunderstorm this weekend.  Oh, to cuddle up with a mug of coffee, a quilt, and a book while it rains and thunders outside.  [Excuse me.  Let me rephrase that.  Oh, to cuddle up with a mug of coffee, a quilt, and my thesis resources and notecards as it rains and thunders outside.]
I have wonderful spring memories of growing up on the farm.  My brothers and I would slip on our mud boots (theirs were black; mine were red), our farm clothes, and disappear for the afternoon.  We’d explore the barns, the pastures, and build makeshift bridges across the creeks.  I don’t quite know how this kept us occupied for hours upon hours, but I do remember how awesome it was.  There is something about growing up on a farm, especially in the springtime, that is simply wonderful.
Your favorite thing to do in the season of spring?  A favorite spring memory?  Here are a few more of mine.
I remember visiting home one spring.  Cousins Sam and Molly came out to my house to hang out with me.  I wanted to fly my kite, and the day before would have been perfect.  Suddenly, as spring tends to do, the weather changed drastically the next day.  It was freezing and terribly windy.  [Though, really, it’s constantly windy at our house on top of a hill.]  We went about our kite-flying anyways.  We had little success and even more so, because of Jetta, my brother’s then puppy.  Jetta thought it was a grand time to chase our kite, grab it, and run about the yard, Sam chasing her the whole time.  The kite-flying didn’t last long that spring day.
Puddle jumping.  M. and I used to go puddle jumping.  These photos are from two different years, the years when babysitting for her consisted of walking up and down the sidewalk, up and down the sidewalk.  Oh for cute.

blessed to be a blessing.

3 Apr
*ahem*  My weekend story.
Once upon a Saturday morning, Lindsay drove south to a small country church for an interview.  [Not such a blessing: The iPhone car charger I bought the night before in anticipation of this long weekend traveling about Minnesota somehow blows a fuse in my car.  The radio, clock, and cigarette lighter worked for none of the ten hours I spent driving yesterday and today.  What worked overtime?  My brain.  And the voices in my head.  Not good.  This blog post?  Written mentally on the drive.  My one-page paper due tomorrow?  Not written on the drive.]  The interview went … well.  [Also well?  The fact that I discovered there is a Target AND a JoAnne Fabrics not ten minutes from where I would be living if I were to receive the call.  Score!]  I feel blessed to have reached this point and am so excited to begin doing ministry in a new place.  I’ll keep you posted!
From this small country church, I drove west and north to Dawson dearest.  [Four hours.  Did I mention no radio?]  There was a ticket and it had my name on it.  A seat was reserved for me to see the Dawson-Boyd High School production of Hairspray.  It was magnificent.  Hilarious.  [Enter any synonym for “awesome.”]  Those high schoolers and adults who participated both on stage and behind the scenes are blessed with incredible gifts.  Incredible.
I felt greatly blessed to return to Dawson and be greeted by so many friends.  I honestly cannot tell you how it ever happened.  I spent a year in this place and met some of the most wonderful people.  In that one year, they shared humor, confidence in me, hugs, and loads of love.  I love them to bits.  And miss them bunches. 
As I ran into friends in the rush that followed the end of the musical, I smiled so loudly.  I couldn’t stop as I saw people I didn’t expect to see and received/gave hug after hug.  I caught up briefly on Dawson lives, shared my own life update, and was the butt of [only a few] jokes.  The one that had me laughing the hardest?
     [discussing whether or not I’m going to worship at Grace the following day]
     Sam: You could go in disguise.
     Me: Hmm.  I didn’t bring any disguises.
     Mary:  You could not wear a cardigan.
     [hilarious.  and sadly true.  I had packed a cardigan for the next day.]
I was blessed by former coworkers who opened their home to me.  Again.  I was lucky to have a couch to sleep on in a house that feels like a home to me.  [I think that’s a compliment, Emily!  I hope you take it as such!]  After spending time there dog-sitting Abby, the mischievous lab who played many games with me this morning, and numerous late nights of dinner and wine, it feels completely comfortable and wonderful to return, if only for a short night.  
This morning I worshipped at Grace.  It was the first time I’d been back to the church and, actually, the first time I’d simply sat in the congregation and worshipped.  Kendall preached – after I had a red-faced introduction from the current intern as the returning intern – and it was all about blessing.  Paying attention to the blessings in our lives.  We have received blessings upon blessings, and with those, we bless back.  We bless with what God has given us; with what we have received, we bless others. 

This past weekend, I was so incredibly aware of blessings I have received.  [And then I came back and had to do homework and this group presentation meeting and became really crabby and I should probably apologize again and again to my group members.]  Many of the blessings I was again reminded of are faces, names, and arms that hug me again and again.  [Two examples of many: Custodian Keith.  He and his wife give me a hug when they first see me.  *mingle, mingle*  Keith and Gail are on their way out, and Keith wonders if he’ll see me in church the next day.  I told him I wasn’t quite sure, so he said he’d better give me another hug just in case.  He says, in reference to the staff at Grace, “We were a pretty tight group.”  Aww.  Yes, we were.  Second: A hug, quick conversation, and kiss on the hand from my five-year-old friend, C.]  I’m so incredibly blessed; here’s hoping I take those blessings and am a blessing to others.  Source: 24.media.tumblr.com via David on Pinterest 

In this new week, pay attention to the blessings in your life.  
What/who are they?  AND 
How are you a blessing to others?

adult relationships.

20 Mar
My younger-by-a-year-and-a-half brother stopped over tonight.   With his girlfriend.  [Yes.  You heard that right – he has a girlfriend.  Here’s hoping I don’t jinx it … but he seemed really happy about it too.  Exciting.]  It’s funny.  Really, it’s just humorous to me to think about how my siblings and I have grown up and now have these adult brother-sister relationships.
I grew up on the farm, having mudball fights, shooting bb guns with my younger and older [a year and a half on either side of me – they have the same birthday] brothers, and playing baseball with lots of ghost runners.  I always got along with Ben; never with Matt.  [Sometimes that remains the truth.  But there are times when it’s not; we’re growing up slowly.]
Then there is Emma, nine years younger than I.  I was the live-in babysitter; I loved watching her and dressing her up.  I remember carrying her around in clothesbaskets and being angry that one time she got a hold of a box of kleenex and spread them ALL over the living room floor.  Now she’s 18, preparing to graduate from high school and go off to college.  We exchange scarves and books, and we’re planning a sister trip to Seattle in the month of June [hoping it works out to celebrate both of our graduations].
So my brother stops over.  This is a week after he called me to see if I wanted to have coffee.  I never thought such an invitation would pass through the lips of my bike-riding, lettuce-with-mustard eating brother.  He was in the Cities, visiting formerly mentioned girlfriend, and wondered if we could get together for coffee before they took off for a camping trip to Arkansas for her spring break from school.  [Because everyone thinks of Arkansas when they think of spring break, right?]
I think tonight, as Ben stopped over to my apartment, I got a glimpse of what it might be like someday when we visit one another in each other’s homes for holiday, birthdays, or whatnots.  This is how it went – Ben walked in.  He walked nearly immediately to the stove, on which sat the tuna noodle/green bean/broccoli concoction I had thrown together for dinner.  [Mind you, it’s after 8pm at this point.  Late dinner.]  “Oh, yeah, what’s this?”  I explain.  “Well that sounds good.”  [pause]  I asked if he wanted some.  “Oh, sure, that’d be good.”  Ben helps himself to the hotdish.  Then to something to drink.  Then to the candy in the canisters on the counter.
I simply acknowledge and not complain this comfort level.  I think it’s humorous … and good.  [It reminds me of cousins, Brent and Mike, who would walk into our farmhouse and straight to the fridge.  They lived in our house as much as we did.]  Perhaps it won’t ever really matter that it’s not the farmhouse we grew up in, or the house on the hill our family built and in which we currently reside.  A family member’s house is a home for each of us.  
It’s hard to tell where those homes might eventually settle.  Matt’s in Colorado and Ben has upcoming plane tickets to Alaska to search the possible job market outside of the continental forty-eight.  Emma’s future is yet unknown, knowing only that next year Carroll University will be the place she resides.  I’ll be somewheres in southeastern Minnesota.  I think it’s kinda fun to dream about where life will take us all, and where we’ll settle down to open our homes to each other in the future.  Now I know to have a hotdish of some odd kind waiting when Ben stops by.  And old Starburst for him to chew.  [He’s pretty easy to please.]

Grandpa.

8 Mar
I love my Grandpa Sid for so many reasons.  I remember Grandpa putting my cousin and I in a metal bushel basket at the top of the corn shed hill, spinning and pushing us down the ice-covered gravel road.  [Dangerous?  Heck yes.  Fun?  Heck yes.]  I remember him getting just as anxiously excited as my dad during tobacco harvest.  He lives just down the hill from the farm and sends me awesome vintage [not the word he would use but they’re super cute and old] valentines and birthday postcards.
When I was home a few weekends ago, I wanted to stop down to say hello and tell him about my assignment to region three, but he wasn’t home.  I called and left him a message, letting him know I had stopped and that I would call when I had further assignment news.  In response to that message, I received a letter in the mail yesterday, in his awesome tight script.  

He told me about his wishes for my further assignment, told me what he’d been up to, and then told me where to get the best lutefisk.  Now I’m telling you – Iola, WI.  To quote Grandpa, “If you like lutefisk, that’s the place to go.”
You take care.

a cakepop comedy.

27 Feb
Like Adam and Eve in the garden, good things can turn towards evil ways.
Cakepops are causing problems.
I went home this weekend, recalling that I owed cousin, Marissa, and her family a dozen cakepops.  (Remember how cousin, Connor, begged for cakepops on facebook?  Cousin Marissa commented later and requested the same.  I aim to please.)
Sister Emma and I undertake the cakepop endeavor Friday night upon my arrival home.  (One funfetti and one yellow made with strawberry jam.)  Emma mistakenly wrote on facebook her activity for the evening.  Cousin Connor commented.  Cousin Connor asked to come join in the cakepop fun.  I agree that he can come over.  Remember – I aim to please.
I told cousin Connor that he must check with his siblings, Molly and Sam, to see if they wanted to come too.  Cousin Connor did so half-heartedly and halfway, not contacting Molly who was visiting a friend a few houses away.  Molly came home, realizing Connor was gone constructing cakepops, and was utterly cross.  She was angry at brother Connor.  
I sent cakepops home with Connor as a peace offering to the missing cousins, Sam and Molly.  I aim to please.  Their older brother, Brent – who bought a house across the street but still walks over for food when his girlfriend is working – happened to be there.  He enjoyed a cakepop.
Were I ever to open a cakepop business – which Connor thinks I should, sticking to the name ‘Holy Balls’ – older cousin, Brent, would have a quote on my business card.  His mom told me the next day that Brent said the following upon eating a cakepop –
I know I can’t – but if I could – I mean, I know we’re related – but I would marry Lindsay for these.

Mighty high praise for cakepops.  And hilarious, especially if you know Brent and his sense of humor.  
But people might interpret it in a not-so-funny way were it actually on a business card?  Maybe?

“Cakepops.  So good you’ll want to marry your cousin.”

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