Flying South

Getting Tribal

I am well aware that nothing can replace family. I love and appreciate 95% of the different people who share my same ancestry. However I think there is something grand about the people we pick for ourselves. Some stay for a while, coming and going like a wave upon the sand; others hold fast, like a sticky hand that has been flung to your living room ceiling.

My friends are more than just friends and entirely different than my family. They are my tribe. A tribe that I crafted and created, and stumbled into my whole life long. No matter the distance between our homes or years between our reunions, once in the tribe always in the tribe. Last weekend I ended the three and half year estrangement from two its members.

Don't Know Much About History

Ancient Philosophy was the first college lecture that stole my heart. Without anything to go off, they sought to explain everything; including the matter of existence. Monists reasoned that existence was composed of one single state. Thales believed it water. Anaximenes thought it air. Perhaps the Beatles think it's love. Unable to determine my own monist theory, I created a different branch of ancient philosophy. My ancient thesis explains the resonating heartsong of friendship.

My Fellow Freshman Year Philosophers
The Day of Our Final Exam

It is my utmost belief that invisible lego-like pieces, called mazi, orbit around every person. Some pieces stay close, sometimes only a foot away. Others circulate the earth and beyond. Mazis  connect to other mazis; each connection takes place between kindred souls. Some may connect from far distances, years before future friends ever meet. Mazi fusions create instant familiarity and catalyze essential personal events. Every matched mazi furthers a person's journey to whom he or she was meant to be.

Boho Kappa Praha

Pam and Jess, are two of my mazi mates. 

Ahoj Vienna

My roommates, adventure sharers, secret keepers, drinking buddies, dancing partners, fellow sailors, super-slav survivors and tribe members, Pam and Jess are a gift in my life; they are a home to me. After three years of missed rendezvous I trekked to Atlanta, Georgia to celebrate Jess's golden birthday.

 The weekend was spent in the very best of ways. We saw whale sharks, drank champagne, line danced, feasted on waffles, finished off four-too-many Moscow Mules, talked and laughed until it was morning. And we even added a fourth sister to our very selective sorority, Boho Kappa Praha.

Truth

Old Habits

It used to be that I shuddered at the idea of entering a Wal-Mart. I sniggered at its shady business practices and was unimpressed by the smiley face stickers. Not to mention I would have to travel to underworld of Simi Valley or Oxnard to even find a superstore.

Upon moving to Fargo, I viewed the fluorescent-lit-city-of-stuff as a necessary evil. It sold $3.00 Minute Maid Brain Juice and was open 24 hours. To navigate the over-crowded aisles I developed a stance called "Wal-Mart Elbows". One is in "Wal-Mart Elbows" when both hands are on each respective hip and create a harsh wide elbow angle. To utilize the stance's full power I encourage one top sway his or her shoulders back and forth. Voila, Wal-Mart People remain a safe distance from your very own personal space bubble*.

*NOTE: One's boyfriend may also stay far away from your personal space bubble, and pretend not to know you, whilst one is enacting "Wal-Mart Elbows".

New Beginnings 

This past weekend marked a new chapter in my Wal-Mart journey. I may have become a Wal-Mart People. Despite my dislike for the store's ethics and my belief that most of their products are sweat-shop-junk, this weekend's actions may have placed me in the weird people at Wal-Mart category.

During my search for inexpensive frozen fruit I tore into a 16 pack of "Chocolate Fudge Pop Tarts". I then went on to devour three packs of the delicious delicacy while wandering the aisles, paying my cashier and hauling my frozen fruit out to my truck. I ate without abandon or fear of what my fellow shoppers thought. Wal-Mart People stayed far away; "Wal-Mart Elbows" unneeded. I was the Wal-Mart People. And this is my truth.

Two Tid-Bits

COOL KID ALERT:

 Pop Tart's website is seriously amazing. In addition to Pop-Tart games and recipes it even has up-and-coming flavors. SPOILER ALERT, 'Murrican Poptart is on its way. 

Life Fact:

Keds and three foot snowdrifts don't mix.

Midwest Points

Wearing Normal Shoes on an -11 day= 7 Midwest Points

Admittingly shopping at Wal-Mart= 3 Midwest Points

A Minnesotan Christmas II : Belated

Christmas

A sleepy sermon, an off-key congregation and 76,311,034 cookie species rounded up the 24th. Sledding and snow were a first-ever Christmas Day happening in my wild and precious life.

Coming Up Next: Blizzard Watch

Schools are out & 50 MPH wind predictions are made; Fargo is under blizzard warning. Today was the calm before the storm. The strongest snowfall resembled the closing scenes of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Such a monumental, first ever Blizzard-Warning, moment demanded an impromptu photo shoot.

 Pre-Blizzard Watch

Josie's Corner Cafe Staff

A Minnesotan Christmas: Belated

Getting There

Mannheim Steamroller, whiskey roads, streams of billowing snow crossing the highway, gas station stops and frozen lakes; all apart of our Christmas Eve venture to Battle Lake, Minnesota. 

Midwest Specifics

iPhones Say The Darndest Things

 Not snowing snow, or windy snow, but blowing snow. Because that's a thing. Dontcha' know.

The coldest temperature my barely-suntanned body has ever known. 

By the way, Winter officially began on December 21st. 

Zeus, help me. 

Breach of Conduct

The Code

I am a person of few rules. I think folks ought to treat each other kindly. And I believe in most of the amendments. But other than those two guiding principles I think the less rules the better. Yet, there is one code I cannot compromise. The Code of 703.

Drafted by several humanities majors and a lone biology student, The Code of 703 outlines conduct conducive to best living. The trio of lifestyle guidelines are painted in the bottom drawer of a yet another dumpster dresser. And are as follows:

The Code of 703

1. We have messy hair, we do what we want. 
2. Nothing Colorado. Ever.
3. Never have a defeatist attitude.*
(Later Amendment)
*One is allowed to have a defeatist attitude if she has been vortexed. 

CRY, CRY, CRY FACE

This is my code. These are my values. And yet, this is my reality. 

Today I wondered how long I would have to blubber, sob and cry until Preston suggested that we head home to California. Immediately.

Today I deeply questioned my sanity for choosing to live in the grand and grim Great Plains.

Today I stepped outside in -24 degrees, -60 when accounting for wind chill.

Today I threw hot coffee into the air and watched it billow into an arch of dragon breath.

Today my bare fingers stuck and froze to the metal door handle.

Today I witnessed my poor truck recede into an icy slumber that no jumper cables could rouse.

Today I wore two layers of...HATS.

Today I was a defeatist.

Midwest Points

Contemplating Crying My Way Back to California= -24 MIDWEST POINTS

Still Being Alive= 24 MIDWEST POINTS

Midwest Specific

The latest in my Midwest Fashion

Hello from the Big Bad Burnt Marshmallow

& my New Year's Eve ensemble.