Love's Labour Lost...and found.

Last weekend when I was going through the closets, preparing to pack for our trip and doing random excavating that I seem to find myself doing every few months, I took a moment to go through an old box from my childhood.

Here are some random things in the box:

1. a black canvas fisherman's style hat from the year our high school went to the state championships in basketball. If I remember correctly, Onalaska won the championship in Division II.

2. a framed professional picture of my high school friends; we were all wearing different colored T-shirts. I was wearing orange. I'll have to post that picture here sometime.

3. my ceramic collection of 101 Dalmatians that I bought at the Walt Disney World gift shop. No, not all 101. I picked out the parents, Pongo and Perdita, plus three puppies. I remember my mom helping me decide.

4. an old art book called: How to Draw Dogs. I collected drawing and painting books and I have to say you can learn a lot from these if you want to paint. I think I have them memorized.

5. My kindergarten report card, plus several other report cards from middle school. For some reason I have nothing from high school, though I do have my diploma, so apparently I did learn something.

6. An old love letter

Now I use the term "love" loosely here. This is a letter that my boyfriend Nick sent to me after he moved from Wisconsin to South Carolina. This was in fifth grade. I was ten. When I say boyfriend I mean that we wrote notes to each other, made sure we ended up on the same kickball team, and we held hands. I think we only got to hold hands twice. Both times mine were sweaty...

I was really sad when he left, although I ended up moving to Onalaska the summer after fifth grade ended.

So I read this letter. It is wonderful. And then I wondered if kids write letters to each other anymore. Do they pass notes in class like we used to, or do they just text? And I felt sorry for them...when they grow up will they remember? Will they have letters to remind them? Technology is great but there is something about a letter. You can hold it in your hand, you can see the emotion behind the writing, you can examine the penmanship. There is something unbearably sweet about it that you just cannot get with email.

So here it is. I blocked out the address, even though this was written in 1985. And it still gave me the same thrill to read it as when I did when I was 10 years old. I scanned it, but will translate as it was written in pencil.




Dear Mindy,
Hi. Whats going down*, up* there? I'm fine. School is O.K. Except nobody is cute. Nobody! I hope this isn't as boring as my notes were. Are your glasses helping?** We might come up at Spring break. I hope we do. I miss you. Write back soon. My sister is being a (?) now because I just wrote to Kim. (Because she wrote to me.) I still like you. No matter if I'm in Africa, (don't worry, we are not going to move again) I'll probably still like you. Are you going with anyone? If I know you it is probably Chris Lindquist***. Who do you want to win the world series? I want the Cardinals. I have over 2000 baseball cards, over 50 of them are Cardinals. My baseball team here is The Braves. The Colloge football team is the Clemson tigers. The big pro football team is the Falcons. I wear your rabbits foot on my Lee's jeans. Well hope to hear from you soon.
Bye!!
Nicholas P.
"Nik"

I hope you are doing well, Nicholas. Thanks for the letter. Twenty- three years later.

* couldn't find the arrow keys
** I just got glasses that year and absolutely hated them. I was always a nerd, but when I got glasses I really looked like one.
***Not the same Chris I punched in the face. That was on my 25 list.

Playlist #2 and #3

Here's two more songs for my book playlist, from Kings of Leon and Muse.

It will come in handy.

You know, for when they make the movie...

Why I Don't Need An Alarm Clock

This is almost exactly how I'm awoken each morning...15 minutes BEFORE my alarm is supposed to go off.

Except for the very last part. Though I do keep a Louisville Slugger under my bed, I'm very thankful that the Bug & Bee have not figured out how to use it. Thank God cats do not have opposable thumbs.

Wii, Wii, Wii....all the way home

It was a baptism by fire yesterday when I was publicly humiliated by a machine. Yes, the Wii Fit.

After I got weighed! in front of my in laws and it measured my balance; it gave me my BMI and actual age. I was disgruntled to find out I was merely normal and only 3 years younger than my actual age. How this little board determines that based on how you stand on it, I refuse to understand.

Whatever, Nintendo. I know I'm a total B.A.M.F. (Bad Ass Mo Fo)

I did do well in the yoga (tree pose) and lunge squats.

I did moderately okay in the running (after I passed my guide to see if I could, I tripped and fell down...Typical). I managed, with my nephew Jack running beside me, to catch up to the dog and finish. I actually broke a sweat doing this. Although I can break a sweat opening a pickle jar.

I can break a sweat just thinking about breaking a sweat.

I did pretty good with the Hula-hooping and ski jump.

I did outstanding in the tightrope walk! That's something you couldn't pay me to do in real life. And I did it holding the controller in one hand and a beer in the other.

The best part? The two sports I'm actually good at in real life, I absolutely stunk at on Wii Fit.

Heading soccer balls and slalom skiing.

For some reason I was dodging the balls instead of heading them, however I managed to get smacked in the head several times with flying soccer cleats (which subtracts points) and a couple of panda bear heads.

Yes, you heard that right. Panda bear heads. Because that's exactly what you need to be concerned about on the soccer field. A decapitated head of an endangered species....

Maybe it's a Chinese thing.

25 Things

Perhaps you've seen this thing floating around Facebook. 25 Things you're supposed to write about yourself to let other people know. Specifically things they don't already know, random things, weird things, embarrassing things... I have already had 2 different Facebook friends write these and I have to say I really enjoyed reading them.

Because I realize I'm not the only one who is COMPLETELY WEIRD!

A lot of backlash has come up from this... other people saying how stupid it is and what a waste of time and why don't you just call your friend and have a conversation with them?

There's that point.

However, I have to say that these type of things (personal confessions or weird trivia) don't often come up in the course of conversation.

Unless you're talking to me. And buying me shots of tequila. Then you'll hear about the time my brother convinced me it would be a good idea to try to light his farts on fire. And me standing there with a book of matches wondering if I should be wearing a helmet of some kind. Or at least some goggles.

For those wondering: No, it's not a good idea.

I started writing a list last week and then I stopped, realizing that this is not just an exercise letting your friends and neighbors know more about you, but a self-examination. Why did I write those 25 things? What does that mean, and why did those specific (and somewhat embarrassing) thoughts pop up?

I have not figured that out yet.

But here are my 25 things, in the order that I wrote them. Go ahead and analyze this...

1. When I was in second grade I punched a boy in the face. He was teasing me, though I cannot for the life of me remember what it was about. I told him I was going to punch him but he didn't believe me. So I punched him. His lip was bleeding. He cried and told the teacher. I was crying too, because I hurt my hand. It really hurt. It's not like the movies. So my teacher (Mrs. Koepke) asked me if I punched him. I lied, and she believed me, probably because I was crying (even though it was about my hand, which I was certain was broken), and probably because she thought I was a good girl. I was not a good girl.
That is the first and last time I ever punched someone in the face. I still feel bad about it. I'm sorry, Christopher.

2. Despite the above confession, most of the main things I regret are not the stupid things I've done (which are too numerous to believe) but of the things I've said to other people. When I remember certain things I've said to people (some deserved, most not) my face gets hot and I squinched my eyes shut.

3. I confessed this (#2) to Garrison Keillor (who was my teacher at that time) and he reassured me that, "Good. That means you're a decent person." And then I felt a little better.

4. Garrison Keillor is not only a really good writer, he is a good teacher.

5. I really, really believe that marijuana should be legal. There, I said it.

6. I never thought I would ever get married, let alone get married at 22. But, in hindsight, I'm glad I did.

7. I not only love my husband, I actually LIKE him. As a person. I would be friends with him because of the way I feel when I'm around him. Being with him has made me a better person.

8. I have always wanted to learn to play the piano. I have no idea where this desire comes from, but it has been inside me for as long as I can remember. I am determined to do something about that.

9. I sometimes have imaginary conversations in my head. With famous people, with people I know, characters in a book or movie, or completely random strangers. And sometimes I catch myself mouthing the words to these conversations. So far I don't think anyone has seen me doing that.

10. I have never been alone. Alone, alone. I have always lived with other people and sometimes when I think of really being alone, I find it very scary.

11. When I read a really good book or even a really great sentence in a book, sometimes I get mad. Because I didn't write it.

12. I vomited all over the front steps of Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas. I was so hungover I couldn't keep down my can of Sprite. So I puked up sugary carbonated soda foam; I must have looked like a rabid zombie. This was at 11 in the morning and limos were pulling up and at least 50 people witnessed this. One man laughed and pointed at me, "Look at her! And it's not even noon!"

13. I'm no longer afraid of throwing up in public.

14. When running the 800m relay at a high school track meet, I wet my pants. Not because I was running so fast. Because I really had to go.

15. Sometimes I think I would make a really good dictator. Or a professional assassin.

16. I would like to live in a villa, have a vineyard, and some horses. Preferably in France or Italy.

17. I get sneaking suspicions that somehow this has all happened before, the deja vu is incredibly intense, and I'm left believing that reincarnation is entirely possible. Even though I was raised as a Lutheran.

18. I NEVER wanted to go to church as a kid. Ever.

19. I was such a shy kid I was afraid to answer the phone. I'm still pretty introverted.

20. When my college roommate came out and told me she was a lesbian, the first thing I asked her was, "Were you ever attracted to me?" She said, "No." I was pissed and insulted. I yelled, "Why not?!!!"

21. I have no idea why I'm afraid to have kids and be a parent. Probably because of the above list.

22. I really like kids. I think they are hilarious. It's the babies that scare me.

23. I didn't think of my mother as an actual person until I was 19. Until that point she was just my mom; it never occurred to me that she had another side to her personality until the day we were driving to Festival Foods and a car cut her off and flipped the driver the bird while she screamed, "F*ck you, you f*cker!" I honestly didn't think she knew that word, and it completely changed my limited opinion of her. For the better.

24. When I visit my hometown I feel incredibly grateful to have grown up in such a beautiful place.

25. I feel ridiculously lucky that I had parents who read me bedtime stories every night and showed up to all my soccer games and track meets and made me eat my vegetables and go outside to play and always encouraged me to go after what I wanted. I must have saved a busload of orphans in my previous life....

Stuck Between the Stations...and on page 168.

I don't know if this holds true for many writers, but not only am I deeply influenced by things I read and see, but I'm also skewed by the music I listen to.

I listen to a lot of music.

And right now I'm in the thick of my novel, typing it out page by page. The initial grandiose feeling of beginning is over. I'm in the middle of the woods, but still on the trail, with the end still out there (I have a good idea) but I still have to make my way toward it. Word by word. Sentence by sentence.

This is exactly like mile 14 in the marathon. Actually miles 14-20. Your legs start to hurt but you are nowhere near completion. So you try to suck it up and stay motivated. And you let your thoughts wander.

In both instances, writing and running, this is where the play list comes in handy.

I've been listening to quite a few specific bands in the writing of this novel and that has influenced everything from chapter titles, the title of the book itself, to things my characters say and unexpected (for me) plot changes.

Sometimes when I start I know exactly what I'm trying to accomplish. Sometimes. But more often than not I will start with a particular idea, a random thought, a sentence I find amusing, or a weird description and I will just run with it and see where it goes. Sometimes nowhere, but sometimes I will surprise myself. This is the most rewarding part, I think, besides holding the finished product in your hands.

So I have been whittling down a specific play list for this book, and this is one of the songs. Stuck Between The Stations, by The Hold Steady. Not only is it a great song, it seems to capture all that teenage angst/wonderment that I remember from that time. And I can definitely see my main characters listening to this song.

Most everyone from Minneapolis has heard of The Hold Steady. Though they now live in Brooklyn, most of their lyrics pay tribute to this area because this is where they grew up and started the band.

My favorite line: "He loved the Golden Gophers but he hated all the drawn-out winters."

idweeb

Phone call message yesterday at 11:30ish...

"Moo, the family has made a decision. We're getting iphones."

These are the wondrously succinct messages that my husband leaves for me. It's not so much the content but the context. The way he says things. I think he wishes that he were a spy because he certainly likes to talk like one. And I end up feeling like I'm in some episode of the Soprano's. The family has made a decision....

So I call him back.

"Hello?"
"The family has made a decision?"
"Yes."
"Was there a sit down?"
"Yes."
"Really? I wasn't there."
"Me and my sister had one. This morning."

Well, at least it wasn't about me getting whacked. "So iphones, huh?"
"Yep. Do you want one?"
"Well, I don't want to be the only one that doesn't have one." I start feeling anxious, like I'm the dweeb who showed up at the school lunch table with my salami and mustard sandwich and every one else is eating filet mignon. "I know I'll be jealous if I don't have one, too."

It's true. I know this about myself. I know I don't need it, and feel like I shouldn't even bother, but I know as soon as I see Matt with his shiny little toy I will be reduced to a sniveling, bratty toddler who screams, "I WANT IT!"

"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"

So last night he brings them home. It is unbelievably awesome. I'm not usually impressed with technology. Certainly not phones, as I am not a phone person. But this is SO much more, the phone is secondary. It is a kickass computer that also happens to have a phone in it. Within minutes I have my email, photos, and ipod on this sweet machine. I can search Google, know the weather, check the time in Minneapolis, New York, London, Rome, and Bangkok, listen to Billy Ocean sing "Caribbean Queen", and simultaneously send text messages to Matt.

Here is an example of our first text message conversation:

Hi Moo!

Hi

We can text each other all the time.

Poop on you.

No! Poop on u!

Tu es muy retardo.

No habla espanol.

That's Spanish for retard.

Que hora es?

Ur so gaaayyeeeee!


Clearly, this cutting edge technology is being used EXACTLY how Steve Jobs envisioned it.

Be Mine

A few nights ago I couldn't find Matt.

He usually goes outside to smoke, or in the garage. I know, I know, it's a repulsive habit. I've realize I cannot change someone else's behavior or motivation. BECAUSE BELIEVE ME, I'VE TRIED! It's an exercise in futility. The older I get the more I realize the only thing I really can control is myself, my reactions, my thoughts, my behavior.

Yes, that is very Oprah of me. However, it saves a lot of grief and stress once I decided, "Hey, I'm not going to let this junk take up any space in my brain." Really, there isn't enough room, what with all the space I need for my word-a-day vocabularly, my spring garden plans, trying to remember the words to the Pina Colada song, what kind of swim suit I want to buy for my vacation, and what exactly is going to happen with Sayid, Hurley, Ben, and Sawyer and the rest of the Lost cast.

DON'T TELL ME. I'm still catching up on season four on my Netflix. I'm watching the season finale tonight and I'm sure I will just remain as confused as ever. I just hope I don't throw the popcorn bowl at the TV.

So Matt disappeared and I looked outside and didn't see him. So instead of actually walking outside like a normal person, I dialed his phone.

"Hello?"
"Where ARE you?"
I hear voices in the background. Little people voices.
"I'm next door."
"Oh yeah? What are you doing?"
"We're making valentines."

Matt had gone over to our next-door neighbor's house to ask them (Lily and Gabby) if they wanted to take care of the Bug and Bee when we go on vacation. So Deedee invites Matt in and puts him to work straight away, making homemade valentines for Lily's class.

"You're making valentines?"
"Yeah."
"Like with doilies and construction paper?" I can totally see Matt doing this.
"Yeah, it's for school."
"We always just bought those little cards. But we did always bring in a shoebox to decorate."
"Yeah, we did that too."
"Guess who always had the best decorated shoebox?" This is a rhetorical question.
"You did."
"You got that right."
"We had to make sure to give everyone a valentine."
"Yeah, even the icky boy who ate his boogers and smelled like cheese."

So the next night I'm poking around and find the Valentine Matt made for me. It's a big red heart with a black ribbon that makes the valentine into a necklace. In the middle of the heart is a picture of a weiner dog wearing a blonde wig with curlers in it; I have no idea where he found the picture, out of some magazine or something.

It says: Be Mine, Moo.
From Matt, Bug, and Bee

I don't know about you, but a weiner dog wearing a wig with curlers is just about the best kind of valentine a girl can get.

THAT IS TRUE LOVE, YA'LL!

What Goes On At Our House

For all the cat people out there. This is supremely accurate and hysterical.

That Minneapolis Sound

This song is funny...cuz it's true.

Here's local singer/songwriter Mason Jennings singing "Your New Man"

A great song for those who detest the upcoming holiday of candy hearts and over-priced roses.

The Third Law

In physics, Newton's third law states that whenever objects A & B interact, they exert forces.

Here's the sentence most people remember:

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

For example, last Saturday me and Matt babysat Jack and George for a few hours and this is how it went:

Every time I touched a toy, Jack said, "MINE!"

Everytime George crawled to grab a toy, Jack grabbed it back and said, "MINE!"

Everytime Matt told Jack to sit down when he was eating, Jack laughed.

I warned Jack not to sit on the sofa's arm. He ignored me...then he fell off.

The second time I caught him doing this, I said, "Remember what happened last time?"
Jack contemplated this and laughed. Then he sat down.

When Jack was warned not to run with a big wooden whistle in his mouth and blowing on it like he was a choo-choo train, he ignored me.

When Matt grabbed it out of his mouth, Jack was horrified. Then he grabbed his B (blankie) and went to sulk in his room.

Me and Matt looked at each other and tried not to laugh.

Jack came out one minute later pretending that nothing ever happened. "La, la, la!"

Then he spent five minutes looking for his whistle, which he couldn't find because I had wedged it in the couch cushions, like I was a dog hiding a bone.

Then Jacks says, "I'm sad."
"Why are you sad?"
"Because I can't find my whistle."

So I crumbled and gave it back. I'm pathetic.

Then he shoved it in his mouth and ran away again.


After babysitting we ran some errands and then because it was such a warm sunny day we decided to get the car washed.

I love going to the car wash. My favorite is Dan's on Nicollet Avenue in South Minneapolis. They have all kinds of fancy options; we decided to splurge and got the floor mats washed for an extra $2. The Jetta was sparkling inside and out.

Here's where the third law comes in. Again.

Five blocks from home we were turning off the parkway when a car zoomed past and hit a giant slush puddle. It was only slightly smaller than the size of Lake Erie. A giant sheet of muddy ice water washed over our car, causing both of us to scream like hyenas.

"Well," said Matt. "That was nice while it lasted."
"Mmm-hmmm....All seven minutes of it."

Absolutely Shameless Promotion Ahead

Well, my publisher Mike Savage sent me an email yesterday about the Ellen Show. Namely, that they want to get me on it.

I like the Ellen Show. I like Ellen. This is one of the many shows I watch during the day if I happen to, ahem, call in sick to work.

I also watch Tyra and Martha Stewart. One time when Martha was on, she was demonstrating how to perfectly fold a fitted sheet. Because I'm a Virgo I immediately perked up.
"Ooooo goody! The secret to the universe shall REVEAL itself."

I memorized what Martha was doing; it was sensational. My mom can also do this; she's showed me several times. When my mother is done with them you CANNOT tell which sheet is the flat and which is fitted. They are both perfectly creased rectangles, it's like watching a Zen master make origami.

I can't do it, and this hurts me. Emotionally and psychologically.

My fitted sheets always look like I folded them with my cat stuffed inside.

But back to Ellen. If you want to see me act like a jerk on national television, and believe me, YOU KNOW YOU DO! you can click on this link and bombard the producers with requests for my appearance. The more obnoxious the better.

My sister-in-law Becca is already giving me grief over the "angelic author" bit. Also the expression: Going Viral
That just conjures up all kinds of images. Hmmmm... ducks going viral = bird flu

PLEASE HELP LUELLA GO VIRAL!

Here's the deal: National Children's Book Week begins May 12th. We've offered to give a copy of Melinda Braun's book Luella to audience members of the Ellen show one of those days if they will have Melinda on to tell the sweet, sweet, TRUE story of the orphan duck raised by a Pug named Pancake. Would you be willing to help make this a reality by emailing Ellen's show and "encouraging" them to have Melinda on as a guest? Tell ALL your friends to do the same. If this goes viral and enough people ask, maybe they'll invite Melinda to the show and she will be able to meet one of her favorite stars. Plus, children around the world will get to know a true story of love and acceptance. Please email Ellen for us! Ask your friends to do the same! Thanks! Go to: The Ellen Show and help get the plucky ducky, the pugnacious pug, and the angelic author on Ellen for National Children's Book Week!

Visit www.savpress.com for more info.

Is This Going To Be Forever?

My God - this video makes me want to GO to the dentist!

Just to have a pharmaceutical test drive.

Perhaps this will convince Matt that the dentist is not so scary. In fact, it can be really fun!

My favorite line: "Why is this happening to me?"
Second favorite: The scream. In slo mo.

Special thanks to Kelly for forwarding this to me. I think I need to change my pants.

Hey, Dummy!

The best superbowl commercial I've seen. Actually, I think it's one of the best commercials EVER.

Groundhog Day

As the light grows longer
The cold grows stronger
If Candlemas be fair and bright
Winter will have another flight
If Candlemas be cloud and snow
Winter will be gone and not come again
A farmer should on Candlemas day
Have half his corn and half his hay
On Candlemas day if thorns hang a drop
You can be sure of a good pea crop

This is an old Scottish poem about Candlemas (February 2). And it looks like Puxsatawny Phil saw his shadow this morning, as did Jimmy the Groundhog who lives in Wisconsin. So that means there will be six more weeks of winter....

But there is always six more weeks of winter! I just hope the next six weeks aren't as bad as the last.

This is also the week I begin round 2 of my P90X program. I can't wait to see what Tony Horton has planned for me this evening. Last week I really enjoyed my recovery week, although I don't think that eating a huge pile of lemon chicken and shrimp lo mein while watching BALLS OF FURY counts as recovery. More like the slippery slope back down into couch potato oblivion. So I had a minor lapse; I'm still ready for the next level.

Mainly, I'm impressed within one month of doing this because my pants are not as tight. But what really impressed me is how MUCH STRONGER I am. At first I struggled with one pull up. I can now pop out 4 before it starts to get ugly.

I can now hold myself in a chattaranga pose, which is a yoga pose where you are holding yourself up on only your toes and your hands while you are down in a push up position, hovering 1 inch off the floor. I can now hold myself like this gracefully before I move into upward dog instead of how I used to do it: namely, crashing down to the floor like a water buffalo hit by a tranquilizer dart.

I don't think crashing water buffalo is a yoga pose.

So back to Groundhog Day... the movie version. I love this movie. And not just because Bill Murray's in it. If you have not seen it, I highly recommend investing two hours of your time. Same with the aforementioned Balls of Fury. If you like kung-fu (WHO DOESN'T LIKE KUNG-FU?) you will thoroughly enjoy. It is a classic style kung-fu movie, except they replace all the kung-fu with: PING PONG!

Yeah, I know. Why didn't I think of that?