Fancy Time

When the weather gets nice and the schoolwork starts piling up I do something to avoid doing anything productive: I try on everything my closet (I will also bake like a demon). I thought I was pathetic and alone until my friend Jess told me she does the same thing. In fact, just a few days ago she found an amazing red cocktail dress in her closet that she "never has an excuse to wear." Well that was that, we had to have a fancy pants party to celebrate. So for our lovely Supper Club this week we went all out. There were hors d'oeuvres on platters, pink lemonade, fancy pants chicken (i.e. roasted with lots of delicious veggies), and fondue, because what says "fancy" better than that hallowed 70s treat? There were also prom pictures:

Being Classy (From left to right: Erica made that amazing pink strapless dress for an art project, can you believe it? Kendra was, as Sarah put, "not being lame in her cordouroys" but came directly to supper from working really hard, something I vow to do tonight. Jess is the one in the stunning red dress. Sarah found her frothy sequin pink flapper dress at a yard sale for 25 cents! I think we can all agree that Amelia has The Hottest Legs Ever.)


Being Saucy


Proof that the 70s lives in my heart, and that I might be a Stepford Wife (do you see how creepily identical my smile is in every single image?)


But enough with the chitchat, I know you were all wanting one thing so I'm going to give it to you:

[Note the creepy chimes: "Fancy, Faaancyyy."] I love this song in a so completely un-ironic way it's pathetic. It is Just So Good.

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TWEEN QUEEN: THE BIRTH OF TWEEN STUDIES

Tween Studies. It started out as a joke between Trish, Thelms, and me. Then Thelms gave me the most delicious sack filled with Tween Movie goodies (Spice World, check!) Here in Iowa it has evolved into a full on Thing. I find myself literally daydreaming about what texts and clips to include in my Jordan Catalano 101 course. "How to Lean Properly Whilst Pulling at the Cuffs of Your Flannel" is part of Day 1's lesson plan.

A few weeks ago some friends and I started a tween films proseminar (inaugural film? Stick It: It's not called gym-nice-tics. You better believe it. It was worth it for that one scene where Jeff Bridges flips right off of the trampoline.) This weekend, things got a bit out of hand. Here's what happened:

I'm not even close to kidding. And, yes, it was amazing. It gets more awesome. Sarah invited me to a girls night and asked, "Can you bring your sack of tween movies?" There are very few times in my life that I can expect to hear this request.* I almost cried with pure joy, repeating it over and over in my head. I had added to Thelma's initial gift of bounty so there were near 20 films to choose from. We laid them all out on the coffee table and started elimination rounds. Our method was nothing less than exacting: Too much glitter! Not enough glitter! Technically, these are adults (sorry, Sleepless in Seattle and A Mighty Wind)! We finally narrowed it down to 10 Things I Hate About You--one of The Pinnacle late 90s teen movies, alongside She's All That (remember the choreographed prom dance?)--and, of course, a true blue favorite, Clueless, AKA: the Bible of Tween Studies.

We--a group of generally intelligent 25+ year old women--could not stop swooning at Paul Rudd, lame goatee, Amnesty International t-shirt, flannel (both a nod to Seattle AND to keep him warm in front of the fridge!), Nietzsche-reading, CNN-watching, dreamy eyes, and all. We were 115% not ashamed of it. And this, my friends, is the true miracle of being a tween queen. You'll excuse me, I've got to go read my Tiger Beat magazine.

*This will be impossible to believe, but I was asked this AGAIN just tonight! TWICE in 24 hours! This must be what Tru Luv sounds and feels like.

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and a cherry on top

I just found a package on my kitchen counter my friend Josh, who just got back from a journey across England, dropped off earlier. What was inside: DEVILS CHOCOLATE FUDGE FROM THE FUDGE KITCHEN ON KINGS STREET IN CAMBRIDGE!!!!!!! Had a crazy bit of homesickness for those Cambridge days come back... How has it been three years?

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all manner of goodness

Friends, it is currently 7:11 p.m. and the SUN IS STILL SHINING! This is a breakthrough that entirely stuns and delights me. Fridays are good days in general, but today was particularly lovely:

1. The sun shone high and bright so I donned the green polka dot sundress
2. The students "LOVE!LOVE!LOVE!" [<--so a="" all="" and="" be="" br="" close.="" extremely="" how="" incredibly="" it="" like="" loud="" love="" loved--without="" magic="" markers.="" me="" mopeds="" reservation.="" scented="" should="" student="" they="" things="" to="" wrote="">3. Green stuff and buds everywhere
4. Sunning in the park while small children tromp home from school, each of them giving me a wave and a smile. Some of the braver ones just crouched right down next to my blanket and asked me questions: "You doing homework, miss?" "What school do you go to?" "Are you having a picnic?" "Do you have a daughter?" Yes, the university, no--but I wish, no--do you? That last one got the girl to chuckle as she flicked her braids over her shoulder and scampered down the hill.
5. Sandlot, watching it feeling zero guilt, with the windows cast open and a bowl of grapes by my side
6. Lemonade popsicles and thinking about this lovely story Jess told me yesterday about watching the sunset as a little girl
7. Talking about writing with the sister, how it's really hard but so, so worth it
8. One miraculous package in the mail containing a lovely book on whales and kind words--I can't stop grinning, just thinking about it
9. Accepted the summer job offer and felt good about it
10. Read a book--I forgot how good it feels to do that!

In conclusion, electricity and general joy flung themselves heartily about today. I think if it could take the form of a song it would be this one:

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Springtime is not just for Hitler, or Germany

This morning I drove D-fab to the airport in Illinois. To get there you have to cross the Mississippi River on this bridge that, if you're driving towards it at night, literally looks like it's going to eat you (I don't know how it's possible for a structure to be darker than dark but this bridge does it with terrifying aplomb). Anyway. This morning it just looked like a bridge, blue metal latticing up the sky. As we drove towards it Dylan asked, "Do you ever get that feeling like something huge is going to happen, like the sky will just tear open or bridges will collapse from under you?" "Um, cool thing to say before driving over a bridge, champ," I said and we both laughed and then Dylan said, all serious again, "But really, do you?"

The truth is, I do. Maybe it's about smaller catastrophes, like that weird thought I sometimes have when I see pedestrians or bike riders when I'm driving and want to hit them, not enough to hurt them bad but to shake them up a bit. I know, I'm a total creepster! But maybe it's all rooted back in my general delight in throwing big things like rocks or tree trunks into bodies of water just to hear the crash, or punching punching bags with my bare hands, or skateboarding so fast that the wheels start wobbling and at any moment you know your head could be pavement. It leaves me with a staic-y feeling that's hard to want to shake.

Anyway, this was all just to say that I really liked driving across the bridge thinking about how at any moment it could--unlikely, yes, but it could--collapse from underneath me. When I drove back over it I put on one of my favorite driving songs and it was perfect. Then I went to the World's Biggest Truck Stop (no joke) and got a cone at DQ.

(My dear friend Alan introduced me to The Silent Years and I routinely get obssessed with one of their songs--for driving it's, hands down, "Black Hole."

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One year ago

I made, hands down, one of the best decisions of my life--to come to Iowa! I knew April 15 was important for a reason more than taxes... It's hard to comprehend the beautiful and insane things that have happened between then and now, but I will say that I am so very pleased with how things have turned out.

Soon I will have reports on the New Orleans adventure, including some tales about pirates, po'boys, mansions, and one amazing screening of Jim Henson's eternally creepy Dark Crystal. Until then, I will just say that I am a full on convert to bread pudding, specifically Mother's bread pudding. Oh, and nice hotels, nice hotels that set you up in corner rooms on the 32nd floor with a view that could knock the socks off of the coldest-hearted gargoyle.

PS: Congratulations to all my grad-school-bound friends--you have made a decision and you should be very proud of yourselves!

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being an adult 2.0

I'm really rooting for 2009. This is mostly because I'm officially trying to be an adult. This means real forays into the intricate world of taxes, insurance, acquiring furniture (secondhand/dumpster dives count!), and oil changes,--you know, grown up things. I'm learning how to talk patiently about printer models and gas prices and the economy (things that usually bore me to tears). But being an adult is not all about learning how to cope with and explain boring things. It's about learning how to mourn and heal, how to rejoice, how to love earnestly and deeply. It's about taking responsibility for my mistakes and wanting to make good, thoughtful choices. It's about wanting to build safe, warm, creative communities. For me, a lot of "being an adult" revolves around learning how to be a good woman. But I think it's mostly about being brave: knowing how and when to take risks even in the face of imminent failure or paralytic self-doubt. This being brave thing is no small thing. I spent the better part of last summer trying to do small acts of courage in an attempt to cultivate my bravery because I was tired of being afraid. It was not easy, but the more I tried the braver I became. So by the time I had to do the bravest of things--uproot from a city I loved, my best friend, my favorite sister and her lovely family--to move back West to a graduate program where I would be required to do what scares me the most, which is to write and attempt to be a "writer," I was ready.

I left. Or, more to the point, I was able to leave. I moved West away from the lush green of Virginia and fell head over heels for these cornfields that now surround me, the flatness of the horizon, the riotous pollen-strung sunsets, even the snow. So I am very much for being brave. It works. I want us all to be brave: to allow ourselves to fail splendidly, and of course to succeed. There is bliss in that to and fro.

(A few months ago I was on a brave jag and submitted some writing to a journal called Brevity, which I love and admire a whole, whole lot. I found out last week that they accepted a small essay that I wrote! It is an essay that is quite dear to me and I am so glad they liked it. It will appear in their Fall 2009 issue. Thank you very much to David Grover for all your help! If you are not familiar with Brevity, please check it out. One of my heroes, Pat Madden, published a lovely essay in the last issue. Wonderful poet Lance Larsen has something in this issue. So be brave, friends, be brave a lot.)

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Proud Parent

Iowa's great for many things like, for instance, raising herds of fainting goats (if you have not heard about these magnificent creatures, please read here). I wanted to see some fainting goats. Warren agreed that it sounded like a fine idea. The plan was simple: email Timberside Farms to get 1) information and 2) an actual address, drive out to Brighton, take oodles of pictures where we either scare the goats stiff or cradle the little babies in our arms. This is what fainting goats look like when they scamper:

This explains the cradling urge--they are impossible to resist! Our plan fell flat on its face because David Lynn from Timberside Farms never returned our email. So we decided to go with Plan B, which went as follows: Drive 1.5 hours to a podunk town called Brighton. Hope for the best. "Hope for the best" sounds vague because it is--I don't know what we thought. Like, we'd roll into town and see signs for fainting goats? Negative. This is what we saw instead--Main Street:
It looked like that pretty much up and town the street. It turns out Brighton is basically a ghost town. Well, pop. 350, but still. We saw some guys in flannel and workboots looking at trailer hitches. "Locals!" I said, "Let's ask them about the fainting goats!" It did not go well. "Fainting goats?" They asked while taking two steps backwards, "Uh...no idea." We decided to take matters into our own hands, which basically consisted of driving up and down random streets hoping that the farm would materialize. After some time doing that I knew that my dreams of cradling an adorable scampering baby fainting goat were to be dashed to the ground.

As I wiped the tears from my eyes Warren thought of an excellent way to soothe my sorry soul: "Mini whisk?" he asked. You may or may not remember my last run in with the mini whisk in Kalona Community Store--I wanted it real bad but deserted it in its time of need. But I said I'd be back, so back we went. Everything was just as it should be:
We bought the mini whisk and some peach pie and left Kalona feeling pretty good. The next day we woke up with big plans for breakfast--of course, our new mini whisk was the star of the show. See how mini it is!
(Big thanks to Sarah, Melissa, Chelsea, and Allison for the lovely new mugs!) I know the mini whisk isn't quite like an adorable scampering baby fainting goat, but it's mine and I love it--turns out 39 cents can buy love! Now I just have to figure out how to fashion a peekaru for my new baby...

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An Open Letter to the Creator of the Peekaru:

Unacceptable.

XoXoxO,

Amy

PS: I am so intrigued and terrified by everything in this diagram. I mean--what the?

PPS: I would not say "no" if I were offered a Peekaru for free. I would carry lots of things in it, including but not limited to: babies, baby goats, baby bears, baby unicorns, and any other small precious adorable things that will not stretch out the "pleated seams for baby" (preferably this small precious adorable thing would have the suffix "-ito" attached to it).

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