You give me (Cabin) fever.

My grandparents-in-law recently offered me the use of their cabin for a girl's trip, and I a group of 7 of us went up last weekend for some badly needed partying and bonding. As the school year is approaching, and I'm getting totally burned out on serving, I really wanted some time where I wasn't staring balefully at my piles of books and notes and all the tedious Power Point presentations I've been fussing over...I needed a lot of laughs, nature, sleeping in, and just a touch of booze. Growing up in Florida, I never experienced the "cabin culture" that is so deeply ingrained here in Minnesota, and I don't think I've ever quite appreciated it the right way until this trip. Portia, Jenn, Kelsey, Kristina, Helen, Erika and myself really maxed out on the pontoon boat, the quiet of the lake and the trees, and all the cocktails we could mix up.

Everyone smile and say "Pontoon boat!"

Righteous mermaids.

Kelsey would not want me to write about the time when she wondered out loud if a bottle of beer would float in the lake...because it's full of liquid, right?...and then tossed a bottle into the water. It sank. Actually, a lot of beer was spilt that weekend. Just a little sacrifice to the party gods I guess!

hhrrmmmmm....yesssss.

A couple of dudes were paddling around the lake and asked us to tow them back in to shore. Jenn told them that they looked like they needed the exercise. Well, it was true! Sorry, but how hard is it to paddle a stupid little boat with your legs? Do they ask their girlfriends to carry them when they get tired of walking?

There were gorgeous ladies relaxing everywhere!

Things got a little silly, but it was fun to turn off the responsible woman part of our brains and act like little kids. We did speculate on whether or not guys get so ridiculous when they go on similar trips. Do they talk about their periods synching up, and banning all "feeling fat" talk, and getting in touch with, you know, their feelings? Do they have dogpiles inbetween margaritas and a game of "Apples to Apples?" They should!

Thank you girls, thank you for making it the best weekend in a long time!

Ahhh...the surprising vegan treat.

When Rob and I first started dating, he was sticking to a vegan diet. I had dated vegetarians before, but never a vegan, and I was a little leery of diving into it, seeing as how I try to subsist on bacon alone when I can. (I was a rebellious and inexperienced vegetarian for years, and was done in by a BLT. Sorry, ethics police, but it's my vice.) I quickly found out what an exceptional cook Rob was, so I was excited to see what kind of vegan cuisine he would be whipping up. One of our first hang-outs involved him making me beet soup, which was sweet because it was healthy and a lovely scarlet shade, and DANG, no guy had ever made me soup before. It was a new beginning for us, so I figured I would venture into unfamiliar territory and try making a vegan dessert. I've had a soft spot for baking ever since I was young, and I decided to make a vegan chocolate cake with homemade strawberry icing. I was completely shocked when the cake not only turned out, but tasted light and delicious, and not remotely like cardboard or...i don't know...bran. When I brought my triumphant cake to a backyard hang-out, I was hoping to impress Rob, and I think I not only impressed him, but the rest of the group. It was GOOD!!! As that summer wore on, I tried more and more vegan recipes, eventually honing in on cupcakes and an occasional carrot cake. I'd like to think that my vegan cupcakes are famous within our little social circle. It's such a rush to see someone's eyes light up when you tell them that there are cupcakes to be had, and vegan nonetheless. We have a lot of friends who are very conscious of their diets, and vegan treats let them party too.

Last night I got the baking prerogative, and i made some chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting. Totally vegan, totally awesome. We got a mechanical pastry bag for a wedding gift, so I've been luxuriating with that instead of having to slop my precious frosting like a bricklayer. When Rob got home from work at 4am, and kissed me as he crawled into bed, I could taste a little chocolate-y, peanut-buttery goodness in his smooch.

Please stop when you should.

Today I was driving home with Robert behind a car that ran over a cat and didn't stop to deal with the aftermath. The woman driving the car clearly saw the animal streaking through the street, because i saw her tap her breaks. I can't be angry that she hit the cat, because it sort of came out of nowhere, but I think it's disgusting that she kept driving on. I watched that poor beast convulse and writhe on the pavement and die in a pool of it's own blood within 30 seconds of her speeding off in her posh sedan. Rob called Animal Control, and I couldn't help but sob against the steering wheel. I don't think the cat had a collar on, so who knows who the owners are or if they will ever find out what happened to their pet. It didn't look like a stray: it looked sleek and well fed. I hope that driver feels like shit for not stopping. I hope that if she has a pet at home, she takes better care of it than she did of the animal she killed.

Bachelorette Bacchanal

My girlfriends know me well enough to know that I couldn't bear to have a bachelorette party decorated primarily in penises. Nor could I ever envision myself stumbling downtown covered in a sash with a cheap tiara dangling on my head soliciting people for dollar bills while I throw lollipops at them. (Although it is funny to imagine just HOW DRUNK I would have to be to do that.) I count myself lucky to have such stellar ladyfriends, some of whom flew from the opposite end of the country to be with me for my wedding.


Virginia has been one of my very best friends since the first week of high school, when I volunteered to carry her books across campus due to her injured foot. It was a rare moment of outgoingness for me, and I was richly rewarded with a friend who grew from a chatty, headstrong girl to a fiercely loyal, steadfast and nurturing woman. Ginny was my maid of honor, and the first and only person that I hoped would fill that role.

Kristina planned my bachelorette party, which involved a ridiculously delicious dinner at The Red Stag Supper Club followed by dancing. This photo doesn't foreshadow the kind of windmilling, booty-shaking, sweat-flinging that occurred later that night on the dancefloor (it kind of sounds like Ultimate Fighting, yeah? Instead of dancing? Well, we take our dancing VERY seriously.)

As the evening wore on, Portia and I started to feel...pinker.








My sister-in-law Elizabeth and I had never gone out dancing together before...and it looks like we are using Jazzercise as our inspiration.





Eventually we cleared the bar out with our high-kicks and whirling dervishes. Portia invented a dance that gracefully channeled a drunk guy throwing punches (no photo available, unfortunately.) It felt so awesome to have the space to move like this, and the privacy to act like little girls at a frantic slumber party, plus booze. (I swear, someone handed me a cocktail every 10 minutes!) But, despite all the boozing and bumping, I made it to the next morning sans hangover.

True Love Will Find You In The End

The knot has been tied, fancy style. We are back from the honeymoon and slowly getting back into the summer swing. I have photos and a little bit of commentary to share, but it's going to have to wait.

"Love seems the swiftest, but is the slowest of all growths" -Mark Twain

An engagement of 14 months is finally winding to a sunny finish. Every piece is falling into its place. Everything that needs to be said has been said, except for our vows, and soon we will have those under our feet and at our backs, carrying us forward to this new passage in our lives.

Soon.

The wedding is coming up very soon...in less than 2 weeks actually! I've been laying fairly low, which has been a pleasure of sorts since the weather has finally turned sunny. It's been so dreamy to just open all the doors and windows and lay in the grass, to work in the garden and bike around as much as I care to. But I do feel a certain responsibility to cloister myself in a way, to try to cultivate a sense of peacefulness and calm. I suppose that it's a kind of ritual, since my family has no real prepatory rituals of their own. I mean, I'm not traveling to some distant hill to sit in a tent for a week with my female relatives and weaving tapestries or anything (unfortunately.)

I've had a lot of people ask about the event, and it's nice to have people be excited for us, but I am a little disturbed at how many people ask me if I'm having second thoughts. That question strikes me as particularly ruse and prying, as if they expect me to wink and whisper, "Yeah, I'm actually leaving him at the altar! Our little secret!!" I know people like drama, but the truth is, things just aren't terribly dramatic. We have had over a year to plan the wedding, and it's been very easy and natural, I think because we are really ready. I think if I had agreed to marry any of the people from my past, it would have been a struggle to get to where I am now, surely impossible. There is a boundless hope that I feel as I enter into this marriage, and I'm surprised to see how it is affecting me emotionally. It's honestly a little scary, which I know sounds contradictory, but a part of me simply cannot believe how terrifically fortunate I have found myself. My mom confided to me that on her wedding day, she was apprehensive because she was in disbelief that someone could actually love her enough to commit themselves to her. I must have internalized some of her disbelief, though thankfully not all of it, not all. I have had my share of painful relationships, ones that ended messily, and lingered with me for a long time. When Robert and I met each other again, and began our relationship, I think I was on the brink of a huge personal transformation, and he was just the right element to push me into a larger, brighter world.