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The weekend told in two stories.

2 Jun

Story 1: I was kidnapped on Friday.  KIDNAPPED.  Willingly, mind you, but kidnapped!  Kidnapped for Lauren-jD-Elliot-Paige-and-Lindsay’s day of fun!*  My dear friends knew it had been a rough week for me and so they had pity on me.  Lovely, fun pity.   I jumped in a car and wasn’t told where we were going.  Where did we go?  To Waseca for lunch on a patio [my favorite!], coffee at a coffee shop [my favorite!], and antiquing [my favorite!].  It was indeed a great day of fun.

Story 2: It was finally nice enough to work outside this weekend.  I planted pots, spread mulch, and weeded.  I also raked leaves from around the house.  I was in the back, raking near the back stoop when suddenly THERE WAS A CHICKEN.  A chicken!  A chicken scurrying towards the woods from under the back stoop!  [Quite honestly, I was startled and had a few choice words.]  I checked timidly to see if the chicken was with friends; she was not.  I kept raking and found the chicken had left me a gift –


Is it hipster to have backyard chickens and not even know it?

* Friends reference.

Stillwater getaway.

27 May

Last year, right around this time, I stayed at my first B&B in Grand Marais.  I went away to Stillwater this past Thursday thru Saturday for another B&B getaway.  Well, kinda.  Paige and I have joked with our Stillwater synod pal, Karen, for months that we would come to stay at her B&B, aka her house.  This past weekend we finally did.

Our accommodations were lovely at the B&B.  We were welcome to come and go as we pleased and were invited to sample the lovely cereal varieties available.  We were close enough to downtown to take a walking tour, including stops at the now closed theological bookstore, the daily grind for coffee, and the co-op for yummy sandwiches.  We ate dinner out on a patio overlooking the river with our hosts and devoured too much ice cream for our own good on a walk to Nelson’s.  Saturday morning was another coffee shop, relaxing by reading, and a late lunch on the screen porch before our departure.  It was all things lovely.

Eventually, the weekend had to end and we had to depart.  I didn’t even make it to the southern edge of the cities before Paige had to listen to me cry.  The weekend [well, Thursday thru Saturday] was so lovely that I didn’t want to go home.  Go home to Sunday sermon prep.  Go home where life isn’t like a B&B at all, where there are no patios to sit on, or friends to eat every meal with.  Go home and not have a long weekend like the rest of the world. [See screen shot of tweet above.] I think the tears are a symptom – I’m burned out.  I think I’m long ready for a vacation.  A full week off.  Luckily, that’s only two and a half weeks away.  Alaska, here I come.

The Stolen’s Museum.

15 May

I went home this past Sunday for one quick night after a full weekend of work and a busy Sunday morning.  I went home to join my family at Geep’s.  We gathered at Grandpa Sid’s house to clean it out.  It was not the ideal way to spend time together, going thru Grandpa’s cabinets and out buildings and packing up boxes.  Not ideal at all but we found some fun moments in the midst of it.

Grandpa Sid labeled everything.  Everything.  Need a broom?  Naturally, it’s hanging on a nail that above it in pencil is written BROOM on the wall.  A key?  It’s on a nail with the word KEY written and circled above it.  Wonder what that light switch turns on?  It’s probably labeled.

Need a hammer?  No need to label those by writing on the wall because they were located every five yards.  I bet we found thirty hammers.  Hammers everywhere.  Never more than a few steps from anywhere.  I talked to the Alaska brother, Ben, on the phone the day after and he asked how it went, not being able to be there himself since he was – you know – in the arctic.  We found a lot of hammers, I said.  I bet you did, he chuckled.  It really was no surprise.

What else did we find?  Admission prices to the Stolen’s Museum.  See, the garage/shed on my Grandpa’s property used to house, oh, 30-some restored gas pumps and old, classic tractors.  I actually invited one of my school classes there for a field trip one year in elementary school.  There were also vintage cream separators and classic metal gasoline and tobacco signs.  It was very nearly an actual museum.  According to the perfect printing in the cement on the floor of the museum – done by one father, John, who wrote in all pieces of wet cement – it was closed on Sundays.  And now it’s nearly empty.

I picked rhubarb from Grandpa’s patch and came home with a china set of Grandma’s.  [A pattern of china which, oddly enough, I drank coffee from on a home visit today.  I’d never seen the pattern before Sunday and now it seems to be stalking me.]  I think my Grandma would be happy to know that her Pyrex bowls will continue to live on in my kitchen, and that the mason jars from the cellar are finding new homes too.

It still is indeed sad to think that I may never again set foot on that property.  I’ve known it all my life.  I would walk down the waterway and across the creek to visit and steal fudgesicles from the freezer in the summer.  As us kids got older, we would ride our bikes around the block and Grandma and Grandpa’s was always our stop for water before we attempted to ride up the hill home again. It’s the porch on which I placed a May Day basket on many a May 1st, and the kitchen table at which I chatted with Grandpa over an open atlas.  And there was always a hammer available when you needed one.

Friday Favorites: Yellow

29 Mar

I sit here, drinking my coffee.  Not yet showered or ready for the noon Good Friday service of which I am a part.  I sit here, envious of my sister and cousins and aunt and uncle who are in Chicago for the day.  I wish I was there with them.  I sit here, ready for an empty tomb.  I’ll be heading home to WI after our two Easter services for the briefest of brief visits.  Sometimes being a grown-up isn’t that much fun at all.

I sit here, preparing myself to share with you the most favorite things I’ve come across this week.  With the full moon that popped in the night sky and the sun that has begun to shine once again, you’ll sense a theme.  Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Classic lemon tart.  This sounds beyond delicious and quite simple, actually.

Cap’n Crunch is yellow.  Ever thought about coating French toast with it?  Crunchy French toast with Cap’n Crunch coating.  I’m so serious.  Will someone please come sleepover at my house so we can try it?  Pleeease?  [I’m a closet Cap’n Crunch lover.  Growing up we had two kinds of cereal in our house: rice crispies and corn flakes.  But if I ever was over at someone’s house with Cap’n Crunch, oh boy.]

Maybe yellow will be the color of my kayak.  My friend, Sara, and I are officially registered for an overnight kayak trip in the Apostle Islands this summer.  We are so super excited!  Now I need to buy a sleeping bag … and rain gear … maybe a tent …

How cute is the DIY dog bed?  It would need to be a pretty large one for Mabel, the giant yellow lab, but it’s still a super cute idea.

Last but not least – it’s not overly yellow but it goes with the weekend.  Happy Easter, friends.

Hey. It’s the favorites of Friday.

22 Mar

[Hey.  It’s the favorites of Friday.]

Favorite tea: Apple cinnamon.   It’s now part of my bedtime routine.  Tea + a chapter of Pride and Prejudice.

Favorite blog post: This post is by the former pastor at my home congregation.  It resonated with me and where I’m at currently.   Worship is a contact sport.  I probably wouldn’t be a pastor if Pastor Clint hadn’t nominated me for a scholarship at seminary … before I ever said I would even go to seminary.  Funny how that worked.

Favorite craft: It’s quite nearly Easter.  I love Easter.  Loved it since I was a child.  [Fun Lindsay fact #396: I used to host “Easter parties” at the farm for my friends.  I would plan elaborate Easter games and my brothers & cousins would hide Easter eggs for us to find, usually under dead birds or with the candy switched mysteriously for dog poop.]  Sadly, I have little energy or people with whom to have Easter parties these days … but if I did, we might dye eggs in these trendy ways.

Favorite story: I visited a gentleman at the care center.  I was getting ready to leave, shook his hand, and told him I should be on my way.  Good, he said.  I was going to ask you to leave because I have to pee.  Perfect timing.

Favorite pin: A quote from Lemony Snicket.

Favorite videos: This Sunday is Palm Sunday.  Prepare yourself for Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem with these two videos.  Please.  They’re awesome.

This video was made in part by the talents [both media and harlem shaking as Jesus] by Kevin, the brother to my bestie, Sara, and a former coworker of mine from Stillwater.  We shared a basement office with no windows together.

Nothing like a little liturgical dance by Stephen Colbert. 

A Banana Wedding.

20 Jan

[A Banana Wedding.]  Are you finding this blog okay?  Are you adjusting to the switch?  I dearly hope so because one of the fun reasons I switched is to write a post like this – a gallery of photos!  [Click on one photo to scroll through the rest.  How fun!]

These are photos from one of the most sincere, most laid back, most fun and non-traditional weddings I’ve been a part of to date.  Congrats to banana Kay and Peter who both seem so incredibly happy!  [For those interested in the inside details of the Dancing Banana bunch, the banana dance was also performed.  We stood surrounding Peter, sang, danced, mashed, and thereby inducted him into the Banana group as an H. Banana.  Husband/honorary Banana, that is.]

adios, 2012.

1 Jan
If I told you that I ushered out 2012 with a bang, then my first post of 2013 would begin with a lie.  I spent New Year’s Eve with my sister and my aunt, eating dinner, drinking vodka slush, and watching Butter.  [It’s a satirical movie about butter carving competitions in Iowa.  I found it hilarious.]  I was in bed by 11.  Party on, Wayne.
But really, it was okay.  It had been a long week at home.  I began the week exhausted from three days of church services and exhaustion of all kinds [emotional, social, physical] continued with the service for Grandpa Sid on Saturday.  Between the visitation preceding and the service, it was estimated we greeted nearly 400 people.  No wonder this introvert was tired.  Throw in odd sleeping hours and eating, well, not well, and the whole week is almost a blur.  
I’m home in Austin, settling in for the night to prepare for a funeral that is tomorrow morning.  I felt before I could write that sermon, I must write to you.  It’s been sporadic of late, and I feel I owe you some sort of 2012 wrap up.  All the other bloggers are doing it.
2012 favorites:
1. Vacation on the north shore and sea kayaking.
2. Auditioning for MasterChef.  
3. Vacation with Kate to the woods.
5. National Youth Gathering in New Orleans.
6. I love composting and how it decreases my garbage. 
7. Perfecting iced coffee, raw oatmeal, and plain microwave popcorn.
8. Local family parties. [Oscar and lefse to name a few.]
9. Volunteering at school.
10. Many new babies!  [Below: the most recent Banana baby I met while home!]
Mason Miles.  He’s a cutie pie.
Certainly, it’s both a trivial and logical list.  
Certainly, there is much more that belongs on the list.  
Certainly, one can’t sum up a year in a single post.  
Any goals for 2013? you ask.  I’m refraining from setting actual goals or resolutions.  Sure, I want to exercise more, sleep more, try more new recipes, go on adventures to new places, create freely, and tackle those books on my ever-growing to-read list.  But instead of setting anything tangible to any of those, I think it can be summed up otherwise.  I look to 2013 with this –

Today is the first blank page of a 365 page book.  Write a good one.


20 Dec
It snowed here.  The wind is howling, schools were closed, and Mystique face-planted in the front yard.  And the best part – I have given myself the privilege to work from home.  In flannel polka dot pajama pants and wrapped in a blanket.  [Ten points for the person to guess the movie that playing in the background.]
In anticipation of the storm, I canceled any obligations I had today in exchange for the peace of staying off the roads.  I ran around like crazy yesterday to get things down so I could stay in.  I have plenty to keep me busy in the warmth of home.  It’s Christmas for a pastor.  I have sermons to write.  Three, to be exact.  I have things to do for sure.
I did go to the office this morning.  The commute wasn’t terrible but it ended with very wet pant legs.  I had to walk across the parking lot to grab some needed bulletins, books, and papers.  The lot hasn’t yet been plowed and it went from very little snow to very high drifts.  I could barely get the church door open against the drifts next to it.  
If I’m honest, I’m not bothered by the snow at all.  In fact, I really like it.  I think I like snow.  I dream of someday owning snowshoes and would love opportunities to go cross-country skiing more often.  It’s a good thing I don’t mind the white stuff or the cold – Paige and I bought train tickets to Montana yesterday.  Montana in January.  So excited.
It is best the snow has come now.  We hope for clear roads come holiday travel, especially this girl, whose only hope of being with family on Christmas is a clear drive home following Christmas morning church.  Here’s to writing three sermons, leading four services, and packing/wrapping all before then.  And all I feel like doing right now is napping.  

pity, party of one.

8 Dec
It’s my birthday.
I’m 29, boring, and I loathe sermon writing.
The day started out well.  I woke up on my grandparents’ couch.  I was home in Edgerton for an ever-so-very-brief two nights because of a memorial service I led on Friday in Illinois for a Dancing Banana’s father-in-law.  I was honored to have been asked to lead the service and grateful to have a way in which to contribute and help in such a difficult time.  And the funeral director?  Crazy awesome.  [And by crazy awesome I mean crazy.]
Anyways, I woke up on my grandparents’ couch.  We went out for breakfast, meeting my mom and her gentleman friend.  It was fun and delicious.  Next we went to see the new house of my mother’s.  I shopped local with Grandma and popped by to say happy birthday to my birthday buddy cousin, Connor [who is 20 and had returned from study abroad in Ghana just the night before].  Then I packed up and headed out.  From that point on, my birthday got really lame really fast.
I stopped at Starbucks in Wisconsin Dells to claim my free birthday drink and then I stopped in LaCrosse to claim my Mabel who had been boarded there for the past two nights.  We drove home and I muddled my way through a patchwork, likely-disaster sermon for tomorrow.  [I’d had a funeral at ROG on Wednesday; between that and the memorial service on Friday, no Sunday prep was to be found during the work week.]  When I have to write my Sunday sermons on Saturday night [my birthday, nonetheless], I become a monster.  I become a monster who cries and will say she hates her job.  A bitter monster.  deep breath.

Maybe when you turn 29, birthdays just get boring and bitter by default.  
No?  It’s just me?
Of course.
I used to say that birthdays were my excuse to make my friends do something I wanted to do.  Like have friends over to my house.  Or go on an adventure.  Or play crazy board games.  Or eat cake.  Now maybe birthdays will be my excuse to drink wine at home alone [which really makes it no different than any other night].

Party on, Wayne.

Party on, Garth.

sh*t Molly does.

26 Nov
Emma and I dreamed and planned this blog post as we went shopping with cousin Molly and hung out with cousin Molly.  She does wackiest things and doesn’t care one bit what people think.  Oh, to be like that.  She talks about burying food in the backyard in case of the zombie apocalypse and quotes Dumb and Dumber along with the freaky horror movie preview we saw at the theater.  Molly is frickin’ hilarious and this is the shit she does.  [Not pictured: the bbq potato chip face mask she created at jimmy john’s.]

playing the organ at grandma & grandpa’s in emma’s old prom dress.  naturally.

four inch heels for a thirteen year old?

black friday shopping is exhausting.

they sell this at target.  not kidding.

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