The lost post.

The art of losing, they say, isn’t very hard to master. And just like every person on this planet I have lost something. People and places and memories that certain smells and seasons and dates unexpectedly bring back to me. I traded and bartered parts of who I am and who I was for bits and pieces of the people and places and memories I wanted to keep. Just like every person on this planet I have been hurt somehow. Smart enough to know better, but not smart enough to do better because I believe and dream and hope. And believers and dreamers and hopers are the exact kinds of people who push themselves too close to the edge of a very tall shelf just to take in the view.

We are fearless in the face of fear. We take chances despite the odds. We spin madly out of control with our heads thrown back on the merry-go-round, laughing wildly.

Just like every person on this planet I am learning how to forgive and remember that every person here has a heart and wishes and desires and wants just like me.

There is a box on the shelf of me somewhere. It’s contents? Nine yellow balloons. Two magnets. A field sunflowers happier far from the vase. A single jellyfish waiting to float away into outer space. I have returned the pixie dust to the proper jar, the spines of my books color-coded and aligned. Bedtime comes at reasonable hour these days, long before lavender daylight breaks and birds begin to sing, my dimples packed away, our herringbone anthology nothing more than a rind from a distant land.

In a hundred years they won’t will be telling the story of us.

If once upon a time, someone would have told me, in a certain tone of voice, “Some people will change you without your permission and you will never see it coming.”

I would still have done it all the same.

The world is

My “DRAFTS” folder is the untold story of Amy. I laugh, cry and marvel at the things I have – intentionally or unintentionally – left unsaid.  Each one a road trip that never came to fruition. Others road trips begun, but I only made it down the block.

I cannot recall many of them, which means they were the truest form of writing. Total and utter inspiration. A blip, a thought and then words. Life, interrupted.

I wonder about a blank e-mail titled “Thunderbird” or another called “Thursday” written on May 27, 2010 that reads only: “The world is”

No period. Just an open-ended statement, more profound in retrospect, I am sure, than it would have ended.

The world is

I’ll look for the rest of it one day.

Dyson

 

Stop advertising.

When you start helping people see their world differently,
you start making people care.

Do you want to advertise?
Or do you want to make people care?

Thought so.

Go find a way.

30-30: The Plan

When I was a little girl, I had certain notions about life mile-markers.

I thought every 16 year old had the pleasure of driving off into the sunset on their 16th birthday. I thought at 18 I would have total and utter control over my life choices. I thought everyone was married by 26. Bought a house by 28. Was smuggling baggies of cheerios into church to keep toddlers happy by 30.

As it turns out, I was wrong. At 16 I failed my drivers test. At 18 the only thing I had total and utter control over was the radio dial in my car. As for the rest, well, that’s a story for another day.

Life, as it turns out, is nothing like what I expected at 5 years old.

If we do a little creative math (the only kind of math I do) it is fair to say that in 9 months I turn 30. In light of this astounding/horrifying revelation, I have decided to do what I do very well … make a list, then write about it. In tough times and busy times, happy times and hectic times, I turn to list-making and writing. List-making is zen for my left-brain, writing appeases the more verbose right-side. Win-win.

Taking a cue from my dear friend Betsy, I have decided to do a 30-30 list. As 2011 marks the 30th anniversary of my arrival to this most delightful planet, it seems only fitting that my list follow suit.

The 30-30 list will include 30 simple things I have never done before. These items are to be completed by 11:59 p.m. on August 14, 2012. The clock starts ticking on January 1, 2011.

1. Pay for a stranger’s meal at a restaurant
2. Try tomato soup (with a side of grilled cheese and a pickle)
3. Attend “Lumberjack Days” in MN
4. Volunteer somewhere outside my comfort zone
5. Order Cristal
6. Take an actual camping trip (ugh)
7. Karaoke
8. Visit an alpaca farm
9. Interview 30 interesting people (and blog about them)
10. Organize a twitter fundraiser
11. Write 30 anonymous letters and stuff them in 30 random books at the library
12. Attend Rocky Horror Picture Show live
13. Be a witness at a stranger’s wedding in Vegas
14. Pick up the check for my parents’ meal
15. Send something anonymous and let the mystery live on forever
16. Take a train somewhere
17. Put my bare feet in the Atlantic Ocean
18. Go vegetarian for a month (and see if it sticks for longer)
19. Visit a Renaissance Fair
20. Launch a message in a bottle
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.

Ten open spots remain on the list. They have been left intentionally blank. I am hoping that you, my dear reader, will suggest something amazing that I simply cannot turn 31 without trying during my 30th year of life. Post your suggestion in a comment and it may end up on the list.

Ready? Go!

What say you?

15 Spooktacular Wines for a Happy Halloween

Planning an after hours adult celebration once you send your sugar-crashing ghost and goblins to bed? Meet 15 Halloween-worthy wines who came ready to stand on their own …or pair with a side of monster mashed potatoes.

 

Return of the Living Red

 

Devil Blood

Vinaceous Wines: Spooky in a creepy sideshow kind of way

What’s Cooler Than Being Cool? Being Loved.

Ice cream! You scream! We like you! We really like you!

After living Columbus for nearly 4 years (Whoa. Where does time go?) and hearing about Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream at least once a day, a few weekends ago I finally broke down and made the trek from my suburban haven to the nearest Jeni’s hub to give it a whirl and find out what all the hype was about.

Boy had I been missing out! I would have kicked myself for not trying Jeni’s sooner, but I was far too busy shoveling spoonful after spoonful of “Backyard Mint” and “Salty Caramel” into my face. YumYum.

As I stood out front eating, watching a line 30 people deep snaking out the door patiently at 9:00 p.m., I had to ask myself – what was REALLY behind the powerful local love for Jeni’s?  The ice cream was spectacular, but is dessert really enough to warrant a love response? Ask almost anyone in the central Ohio area where you should go for an ice cream fix and 9 out of 10 people will invariably respond with a very enthusiastic: “Jeni’s!” They will then proceed to list all the Jeni’s locations around town, draw you a map to each and include a listing of Jeni’s flavors you’d be remiss if you didn’t at least sample.

And that response is more than a like. It’s a love.

Conventional wisdom tells us like attracts like, so does that mean love attracts love?

And where does love come from? The heart. And though you may not find it on the menu, Jeni’s has a whole lot of that.

So what really makes Jeni’s so (pardon the pun) cool?  The short answer is: their passion. A passion that defines them. A passion founded in community. A passion that takes prides in product and people.

With their mantra “pasture to table, cow to cone,” not only does Jeni’s embrace a sense of shared ownership with the farmers, growers and producers who work with them hand-in-hand to bring their flavors to life – with humble splenditude, Jeni’s invites their patrons to become a part of that shared ownership, too. Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you’re a dairy farmer, a mint grower, a delivery driver, a staff scooper or the customer on the other side of the counter – you are simply a part of IT.

A local success story with an outpouring of love for the locals, Jeni’s Ice Cream is a product of community. And the community feels that love and loves them back for it.

“Here we are,” Jeni’s says, “This is us. Hello. Meet our staff. Our cows. Our growers. Come into our kitchen. Let us teach you. We want to learn from you. You’re not just a customer, you are our neighbor. Learn what is important to us, and why what is important to you is important to us, too.”  Armed with a solid product and a welcoming openness, Jeni’s invites their customers to meet the local hands, hearts and hooves behind each scoop and cone, meaning it’s no longer just that ice cream, it’s our ice cream. And they’re not just those people, they’re our people.

I hopped on Jeni’s official blog this afternoon and chuckled at the photo you will find at the top of this blog post (courtesy of gloriously talented foodie photog Stacy Newgent … who could make burnt toast look good.)

Upon further reflection, I began find a quiet (or, as the case may be, not-so-quiet) wisdom in that photo. When you’re doing something right, when you’re inspiring a fan or evangelist or liker or supporter or advocate or whatever you want to call them – that’s how their love should look, no? Like a freezer stuffed full of living proof that doesn’t just mumble “I like you,” rather screams “HELL YEAH I LIKE YOU! MOVE OVER FROZEN WAFFLES! MAKE WAY ICE CUBES!”

The freezer in that photo isn’t just a fan by name, it’s a fan by action. It’s a fan who wants to bring YOU to a backyard BBQ, an unexpected visit from an old friend, a breakup, a makeup, a Tuesday afternoon for no good reason at all.

So, if you asked ME to define what makes Jeni’s so special in one word, I’d simply respond: passion, but maybe not in the way you’d expect. Jeni’s passion is ice cream, but the passion that really defines them, is the passion others wrote, and continue to write, on their behalf. With each happy customer – a neighbor becomes a fan, and a fan becomes an author of that story beyond Jeni’s doors.

For as long as I’ve lived here, I don’t recall a time I’ve ever seen an advertisement for Jeni’s. I’ve never seen their name scrawled on the side of a bus. They don’t have some guy dressed up as an ice cream cone passing out coupons on the sidewalk to passerbys. What Jeni’s is really famous for comes from the people who love them and pull, root and cheer for their success…one scoop at a time.

Lightning Bugs

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” Mark Twain

20-Somethings That Make Life Joyful

I turn 29 on Sunday. My last year of the twenties. Sigh. But less sigh that I will sigh on my first year of the thirties.

This year I decided I would give gifts to you. Except that would be expensive. So you’re getting warm fuzzies instead. Warm fuzzies and a list of twenty-something things I vote you simply can’t live without.

As Julia Child (my August 15th birthday twin) once said: Bon appetit!

Bacon Bandaids

In the infinitely wise words of Homer Simpson, mmmmm bacon. Thanks to bacon band-aids, it is now possible to indulge in the wonders of bacon without the feelings of immediate post-consumption guilt that accompany a breakfast which easily dings in with a 4-digit calorie count. Also available in: toast, sunnyside-up egg and waffle. Seriously.

Wine Cork Recycling

Wine lover with a guilty green conscience? Check out the cool things the forward-thinking greenies at Yemm & Hart are doing with recycled wine corks. From flooring materials to cutting boards, they have reinvented the cork’s life-cycle. Pop your corks in the mail and send them off on a new adventure rather than a trip to the dump. Be sure to check out the eloquent commentary on the “Wine & Cork Connection” on the Yemm & Hart website.

Velvet Tango Room

If you only have on cocktail in your life…make it a cocktail at the Velvet Tango Room. One of Cleveland’s best-kept secrets you’ll only want to share with your favorite people. Shhhh….

A Dream Dog-Eared

“I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.” | Anna Quindlen

Last week I had the privilege of attending the birthday party of a dear friend’s daughter. The party was hosted at a local pizza dive, and the guests took up 85% of the restaurant. Kids of all ages scampered everywhere, blowing whistles, tearing into goodie bags, clinging to our hands and legs like little koala bears. When it was time to cut the cake (Yo Gabba Gabba) I found myself sitting next to a little girl just learning her alphabet letters. As we patiently waited for the slices of cake to make their way to our end of the table, she amused herself by pointing at letters on the menu and saying each one out loud.

“P-I-Z-Z-A,” she said, then turning to me to ask, “What word is that?”

“Pizza,” I explained. We worked our way down the menu, through salad and pasta to wine before a massive wedge of birthday cake arrived and carried her away to the land of icing roses.

The encounter with the little birthday guest left me struggling to recall a time before I knew how to read. I remember methodically matching up velvety cut-out alphabet letters on the floor of my kindergarten classroom, but for the life of me I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a fluent member of the world of words.

Imagine 5 minutes of your day without reading. Imagine all you would miss. An e-mail. A text message. A tweet. Instructions on a bottle of bubble bath. Lyrics to a favorite song. The nutritional label on a cereal box. A love letter. The magazine article you distract yourself with in the dentist’s waiting room.

Words are everywhere.

A month ago a friend asked me to do some reflecting on books and bookstores.

This is the post that ran out onto the page.

Act I: Puppies and Dog-Ears

I find myself drawn to bookstores – alone and wandering – regularly. I’ve gone to book stores after break-ups, on boring rainy days, on lunch breaks, in pursuit of the perfect gift and more often than not, for no reason at all.  Big bookstores and little bookstores, new bookstores and used bookstores (the latter being my favorite.)  There is something that calms my mind and soothes my spirit when I think about all that lies between the walls of and covers within a bookstore.

Words and pictures and paper, this much we know, but dive deeper, and we find all. Biographies telling life stories the way they really happened and tall tales telling life stories the way people wished they really happened. Photographs of children and dogs and bridges and signs. Great great grandmothers’ recipes. Thoughtful, detailed instructions on how to repair your broken car, your broken investment portfolio or your broken heart. Superheroes soaring through space and 1001 tips on how to do laundry. Happy endings and endings to break a heart. Stories of new life and lives snuffed out. They’re all there.

Row after row, like puppies in a pet store window, “Pick me! Read me! Take me home!” they shout. “Scoot over. You’re crowding me!” they say to the other books. “Hey lady! I’m great! Meeeee! It’s me you want!!”

BFF: On pregnancy tests

“I just know of the two blue lines or whatever it is. Pink line, plus sign, whatever. Now they have them where the word “PREGNANT” just pops up, very idiot proof. I also know that if you sink in water, you’re a witch. Or if you float. Not sure which.”