That's Funny!

I'm Gonna be a Schram!

2008-03-13T20:32:00.007-05:00

A Schram...no "berg." Just don't want anyone getting the wrong idea.

Buyer's Market Schmyer's Market

2008-02-02T19:30:00.000-06:00

I'm quite certain my readers abandoned me long ago, but I have nothing else to do on this Saturday night, so thought I'd dust off the blog and spill out some recent news.

So here's a brief recap since I last wrote for those of you not up to speed:

Passed the Series 7 test and started a second and full-time job as a financial advisor.
Rented out my condo in uptown.
Moved in with my boyfriend (and his roommate) while we try to sell their house.
Oh, and just found out I wil be moving to to a wonderful house on 12 acres in Waconia, MN to start a vineyard in approximately 3 weeks (which I wil get to later).

Other than that...not too much. :)

I can think of a million topics to write about right now, but one in partcular sticks out to me. While the dire media tells us...houses prices are falling, falling, falling...we're headed for a recession...buyer's market...home sales down....let me give you a few examples of why MY recent experiences in real estate tell me otherwise.

Situation/Client #1: Without complicating it too much, the jist of this situation is that I wrote an offer for some clients last October to buy a house. Since that time, and while under contract, the seller has decided she doesn't want to sell. This would be fine if both parties were laid back or if my clients recognized there are other homes on the market, but no. They want the ONE house (out of the 250 that fit their "criteria") that the seller is unwilling to give up. So, now I am stuck in the middle of a legal battle while both buyer and seller consult attorneys and send letters back and forth arguing the validity of the purchase agreement. Most sellers are dying at the chance to get a nibble on their house...and this lady refuses to sell it (after having had it on the market for 6 months). And my buyers want what they can't have. So much for that buyer's market.

Situation/Client #2: I have set a personal record of "second showings" with this particular buyer. I've shown this couple about 100 house (slight exaggeration) and every time they find one they really like, we go look at it for a second time (you know, to bring the parents through, yadda, yadda), and then find out that an offer has just been accepted on the house before we are even able to make an offer. This has happened approximately FOUR times in the past two weeks (no exaggeration). So much for that buyer's market.

Situation/Client #3: Showed several downtown condos to some buyers moving from Denver. After spending several weeks with them, I found them the least expensive brand NEW condo in Minneapolis that fit their needs perfectly. Others that compared had already sold for OVER one hundred thousand dollars MORE than what this one was listed for. It was a GREAT buy and incredible investment. They thought about it over a weekend and decided they are going to rent because they were concerned the market wouldn't turn around and they would lose money. WHAT? They basically would already have ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS of equity once the market turns around (which it will) and would be able to get it at an incredibly low interest rate. But what do I know. I'm only a realtor who knows the downtown Minneapolis market. Think people aren't influenced by the media? Prime example.

Situation #4: Lastly, the situation involves me and the house in Waconia. Dating back to mid-December when boyfriend and I found a house and land that we both love and seemingly PERFECT for what we would want (see image above). And price was right. Charming house, room to grow, lake views, great soil for grape growing, incredible acreage, and next to a grassy airstrip where his pilot brother can fly his family in from Wisconsin to visit. Not to mention it's close to my sisters and parents which gives me a handful of babysitters when the time comes! :) We were dealing with a bank which was complicated and S.L.O.W. We made an offer December 12th, found out the day after Christmas that another offer came in (so much for a buyer's market), so we increased our offer, waited, waited, and WAITED and were asked to make our VERY best offer about three days ago. Once we did, we found out we came in higher than the other offer! It was a long and frustrating road, and we may have to live on ramen noodles for a few years and spend some more Saturday nights at home (ahem) based on how much we increased our offer over that time. But I don't care...it's totally worth it. I'm starting a vineyard with my honey...who else can say that??! And even though I can't grow a plant for the life of me and don't know a thing about grapes other than I like to eat them and drink them, at least I have some marketing, sales, and financial planning skills to bring to the table.

Sorry, went off into my lala land. But as you can see, I have no good examples of this being a "buyer's market." While rates may be low and there is a large inventory of homes on the market, I think that simply there are not many sellers with enough equity in their home to be able to sell at a price that makes the buyer feel like they are getting the great deal the media is telling them they should. And those that are priced well are often bank owned or relocation properties where the prices are so great that they get multiple offers, which drives up the price again.

That's my take at least.

Any and all welcome to Waconia for some wine...anytime after Feb. 25th. But I don't want to jinx it. Keep your fingers crossed for a smooth and successful closing!

Dumpster Diving

2007-07-20T15:25:00.000-05:00

Hello! Remember me? I know it has been a while. It's not that I haven't had anything interesting to write, just haven't taken the time to write about them. But, a couple of interesting things happened to me recently that seemed to fit some old themes of this blog.

First of all, I'd like to give a shout out to my wing man and former blogger, Laura. Hey, Laura! Some of you may remember reading Laura's blog "Braced for Impact" last summer. She, with me, wrote about her single girl tribulations and adventures. Due to lack of content for her blogging theme, Laura stopped blogging last August, about the time she met someone special, who was then referenced as "The Sleeper." Now, just short of a year later, they are engaged!! Yeah! (See Laura, I hate to say it, but I told you so)! Some of you may be wondering how this fits into my title. Rest assured, Laura did not find her now fiance in a dumpster....but she sure found a treasure! Laura, I'm so, so happy for you, but remember that you'll always be my wing man.

Secondly, I'd like to give you a brief update on the progress of my handyman skills. You wouldn't believe how far I've come from the days when I was clumsily trying to use an Allen wrench! But after spending the last several months making weekly trips to Home Depot and most weekend days spent on the BFs house projects, here are just SOME of the things I have learned:

1. There is a special tool made just for opening paint cans and special stuff for removing wallpaper! Who knew?
2. There are like 64 different types of paint finishes (ie. you can't just order one can of blue paint. You have to decide if its eggshell, or matte, or glossy, or whatever).
3. How to use a sander, a power drill, a staple gun, and a paint sprayer.
4. Disposable feather duster work much better than brooms in removing cobwebs from ceilings
5. ALWAYS remember to wash paint brushes when you are finished using them!
6. Kaboom (as seen on TV) works wonders in removing scum and rust from showers
7. How to lay laminant kitchen tiles (and even how to cut the corners around the moldings)!
8. That to keep a good garden, you have to water the plants every day and dead-head them or else they die.
9. That I'm not a very good gardener.
10. I like Menards better than Home Depot.

Now, how does dumpster diving fit into all of this? In the condo building I live in, the dumpsters are in the garage and I walk by them each day to enter the building. Occasionally, I'll see something sitting out there that looks to still be of good value and condition and I wonder why someone is throwing it away. I eyed up a nice black golf bag a few months ago and passed it up only because, well... I don't really golf, don't own clubs, and don't know anyone who needs a new bag. The next day it was gone and I later found out my friend who lives upstairs took it and gave it to her boyfriend. For the past couple of weeks there has been a wooden stand-alone closet sitting by the dumpster. I figured it would be picked-up by someone or would be gone that first week on garbage day. Apparently, the garbage man won't pick it up if it's not actually IN the dumpster, so it has continued to sit there. Today, I noticed it still there. Thoughts going through my head: It's pretty cute. It just has a little wobble and needs a new paint job. Why is someone getting rid of this? Can I really take something from a dumpster? I could sure use some more closet space...

At about 10:30 this morning, after looking at my over-flowing closet in my bedroom, I threw on a baseball cap and went to the garage to haul that closet up to my place. I wanted to go at a time not a lot of people were around and go incognito. I mean, what would people think if they saw one of their neighbors dragging something inside from beside the dumpster?! Using my new skills, I re-nailed a nail that was missing that had given it its wobble, WD-40ed one of the squeaky wheels and took some leftover paint from the accent wall in my room, and an hour later I had this super cute refurbished extra closet for my room! And we all now how I could us more hanging space! It's a literal use of the phrase "One person's junk is another person's treasure!"

Thanks for reading all of my closet related blog entries. I'm really not that obsessed with my closets and don't spend as much time working on closets and rods and racks as this blog might imply. But, when you got a theme, you just gotta go with it, right?

Hand-Me-Downs

2007-03-12T21:47:00.000-05:00

As the youngest in my family, I grew up getting a lot of hand-me-downs. Whether it was clothes from my cousin or the old make-up my sister left behind when she went to college, there was always something. Sometimes the hand-me-downs kind of stunk, like when I had to play the flute in band, because we already had a flute from when my older sister played and my parents didn't want to buy a new instrument. I really wanted to play the trombone. I quit the flute after 7 months. But sometimes the hand-me-downs weren't so bad, like when I got to drive the Chrysler LeBaron convertible in high school after my mom was through with it. (This was especially good since my older sister was left to drive the rusted out conversion van after my dad got a new car). Hey, it's not my fault the convertible just happened to be the available car at the time!

Hand-me-downs have transferred into my adult life as well. Especially since I am single, and people think that I must not have kitchen supplies. I'm not sure if they think this because I haven't yet had the chance to register for dishes and omelet pans, and skillets, but rest assured, my kitchen is stocked from hand-me-downs as well as new items. And I have three sets of measuring cups to show for it!

My mom is always trying to pawn things off. Not only on me, but on all of her kids. Christmas dishes, knick-knacks, pillows, you name it. And as nice as they might be to have, since I'm not doing a lot of Christmas dinner entertaining in my 750 sq. ft. condo, I don't have much use for Christmas dishes. No more kitchen dishes or appliances for me. Nothing! At least until I get a bigger place, because quite frankly, I just don't have any room. My cupboards and closets are already packed. My aunt's wok is stored away in my coat closet and my placemats are kept under my bed. So, no matter what the item, I have to say "no" because I have NO where to put it!

So, when my brother called the other day to offer me up something he needed to rid of, this should have been my answer, right?

Bro: Hey, how would you like to be the recipient of a couple hundred dollars worth of booze?
Me: Okaaaaay....what do I have to do?
Bro: Nothing. I've got like 25 bottles in my car right now...I'll just drop them off.

Suddenly my kitchen looked a lot more spacious! So, as a result of my brother and sister-in-law having two rebellious teenage sons in their house, I am the recipient of my their hand-me-down booze. I mean, I really only took it to help them out and because I sincerely care about the safety of my nephews.

Do you think that I magically have room for all of these bottles? No. Am I complaining? No. Even though I now have a good excuse for not cooking since I have no counter space to do so, at least I now have a good reason to throw a party. While I did have a small stash of booze to host my book club before, I am now ready to host a fraternity party. So, in order to prevent me from becoming a raging alcoholic, let me tell you here, that my door is always open for a drink. With an inventory of approximately 18 bottles of wine, 20 bottles of hard alcohol, 4 bottles of champagne, and a variety of beer, I should have some thing to wet your palette.

But, better hurry up! I'm not going to wait until I hear you knocking. And if I'm drunk next time you see me, hopefully that means my nephews aren't. I'm just doing it for the kids. Oh, and to free up more kitchen space.

My Celebrity Hair

2007-02-12T16:09:00.003-06:00

Most people who know me, know that my hair style has not changed dramatically over the years. There were the few times in college that I cut it above my shoulders, the occassional home highlights, and the playing around with bangs every couple of years. But for the most part, my hair now is not really that different from when I was in kindergarten. Very long. Straight. Brown.

When I was younger, I took advantage of having long hair to style. My mom and sister would often put it in side ponytails, frenchbraids, and even upside-down french braids. Sometimes I'd even try to put cornrows in myself and braid my entire head. Now, seeing me with my hair anything but down is rare. Unless you catch me after a work-out when it's in a ponytail.

But next Tuesday, the 27th, if you local Minneapolis people watch the Fox-9 morning show from 7-9am, you can see me get my hair styled like a red carpet celebrity at the Oscars. Yep, I am going to be a hair model (it's a promo spot for a St. Paul salon)! So while you are watching the Oscars on Sunday night and admiring the hair-dos of Penelope Cruz and Kate Winslet, you just might be able to see the same hair-do styled on yours truly on television Tuesday morning. But, if you do tune-in, try not to notice my split-ends!

Now, excuse me....I have to go deep condition my hair.

How the Handyman Whore Found Her Stud with a Stud Finder

2007-02-12T16:09:00.002-06:00

Let me take you all back to last summer when I did a post called "I'm a Handyman Whore" inspired by my repeatedly falling closet rack. Well, you guessed it...last week it fell again. I've lost track of how many times this has happened, but this time I was beside myself in knowing how to handle the crisis. So I called my boyfriend to the rescue. For a guy who had "tool chest" on his Christmas list, I figured THIS was the man for the job.

Yesterday, my studly new beau knocked on my door with a big 'ol toolbox in one hand and drill in the other. (He might've been wearing a toolbelt without a shirt and some rugged carpenter jeans too. Or, maybe that was just my imagination). After clearing out the piles of clothes still on hangers on the floor in my closet, he looked at the wall where about six different holes exist from the brackets ripping out. Then he looked at me with a puzzled expression and asked, "Who put this in before?"

Uhhhhhhh.....how do I answer that? So I filled him in on the delinquent "handymen" who've helped me with my closet. Afterall, it's kind of a joke now anyway. And, I figured it would give him a challenge.

So he reached into his toolbox and pulled out a tool that I had never seen any of the others use for this task before. A stud finder. Sliding it across the wall, he found studs about an inch to the right of where the last brackets had been placed. In five minutes time, he had securely drilled the brackets into the studs and my clothes were hung back on the rack without even a wobble. I'm sure he was wondering how I could've had several males help me with my closet over the course of the last year and half, and not one of them ever bothered to find a stud, but he never said it if that is what he was thinking. And the best part was, he didn't tell me he thought the rack fell because I had too many clothes! He said I just had to find a stud...and I did.

Now, I realize it has only been a day, but I've got a good feeling this rack is going to stick. I'll just have to wait and see if it withstands the test of time. But, I may have found my handyman hero! What a stud.

Are you all gagging yet?

That's Weird!

2007-02-05T19:56:00.001-06:00

Okay, I didn't specifically get tagged to do the weird meme, but when I saw the open invitation, I figured that would be the perfect thing to get me out of my blogging slump. Why? Because I'm weird!

1. I have to put vaseline on my heels before I go to bed every night. I truly believe my itchy heels are a reason I can't fall asleep at night.

2. I have two fake teeth. When I go cosmic bowling, they don't glow in the dark like the rest of my teeth, so I look like some sort of freaky vampire.

3. I eat my cereal with a huge spoon. And I pour the extra milk from my cereal into my coffee.

4. I laugh randomly. I sometimes think of something funny that happened or something funny someone said 24 hours before and I burst out laughing about it at really opportune times...like when I am by myself walking around the lake, in a meeting at work, lying in bed at night trying to fall asleep, or in the car with someone when we aren't talking about anything. I keep thinking I'll grow out of this, but I'm beginning to think this might be a life-long condition.

5. Before I got better about switching purses and cleaning them out regularly, you'd often find 9 tubes of lipstick and 10 pens in the bottom of my purse.

6. I coordinate my haircuts with my oil changes. Usually every three thousand miles on my car is a good indicator that I need at least another inch off my hair.

You can do this post if you are weird, otherwise tell me something weird about YOU in the comments.

Please excuse my absence...

2007-01-24T11:48:00.000-06:00

...I had to deal with some personal matters.

Favorite Neighborhood Eats

2006-12-06T10:54:00.000-06:00

Even though I love ALL kinds of food, I tend to be a creature of habit when it comes to what I order off the menu at restaurants. Whether it's fast food, sit-down, or chain joints, I already know what I want on each menu.

Here are some of my uptown neighborhood favorites:

Bar Abilene: Appetizer: Made at your table fresh guacamole. Main course: Chicken and Wild Rice Burrito--not your typical burrito--presented in eight slices in a ring around your plate.

Calhoun Grill: Best breakfast around! I'd recommend the Salmon Eggs Benedict.

Chino Latino: Hard to choose on this big menu, but if you bring a date with a good appetite, I'd share the Philippine Paella. Shrimp, mussels, calamari...Mmmmm...

The View (Formerly Dixie's Calhoun): For lunch: Smoked Rosemary Chicken Wrap

Yum!: Fairly new deli/bakery in town and I have yet to order anything other than the Grilled Vegetable Panini. Generous veggies soaked in pesto sauce. So Yummy!

Chang Mai Thai: Get the Sweet Green Curry for take-out. It's got a kick to it and makes great left-overs!

McCoy's: Great place to meet friends for happy hour drinks and pizza. All pizzas are great...try the Kitchen Sink, Tuscan Chicken, or Greek.

Chains:

Old Chicago: Nachos Grande. I've been ranking nachos around town for a couple of years now and have yet to find a place to beat these ones! Chicken, black beans, lots of real melted cheese, quality tortilla chips, and guacamole! (The Drink in uptown is a close second with sausage, chicken, pico de gallo, feta cheese and authentic fried chips)

Applebees: Santa Fe Salad--a long time favorite of mine! I don't even know what else they serve at this place!

Subway: I'm sure we all have our favorites here. Mine is the a 6" turkey on wheat with american cheese, spinach, tomatoes, LOTS of pickles and olives, a few jalepanos and spicy mustard. Can you tell I've said that once or twice?

Jamba Juice: When I feel like I am getting sick, I get the Protein Berry Pizzazze with an immunity boost. Even if it's just a psychological healer, I always feel better soon after.

Noodles: Great quick, yet healthy sit-down place. Bangkok Curry is the way to go.

Davanni's: Another long-time favorite--Half Veggie on Whole Wheat.

The following are not in my 'hood, but I highly recommend these two on St. Anthony Main:

Pracna: The Reuben. I'm not normally a huge Reuben fan...but this one is fantastic and I like the cozy atmosphere.

Kikugawa: Order the Dragon. It's not on the menu, but if you don't like to order all the individual sushis, this has a little bit of everything...plus it looks cool and is very filling. And, I always suggest edamame for an app at ANY sushi place.

I'm always looking for new places and menu items to try. Even if you are out of town, tell me YOUR favorites because you never know when I'll be in your 'hood!

My Two Boyfriends

2006-12-02T13:46:00.000-06:00

Introducing my two new boyfriends.... Racer and Rocket!

My oldest sister gave birth to her identical twin boys yesterday. Both wonderful, healthy, and precious. Racer is a little bigger than Rocket, so we can tell them apart for now. But the best part is...I get to love them both the same!

Dr. Ashley, Google MD

2006-11-15T21:32:00.000-06:00

I've come a long way in overcoming my phobia of doctor visits. Unlike most people with this condition, I don't have a fear of needles and I don't get nauseous at the sight of blood. It's just that I can't handle talking about anything that goes on in the body or anything that might go wrong with it. I'm not sure when this started, but it might've been when I had my first physical at 13. That's when the old lady doctor demonstrated how I could start checking for lumps. At that age, the thought of checking for breast cancer before I even had boobs seemed absurd and I felt violated more than anything else. I successfully avoided the doctor from then on, getting any necessary sport physicals at the urgent care where all they had to do was take my blood pressure and check my reflexes.

When I grew up and faced the doctor again I had a few episodes. One time I became so faintish that they had to bring me orange juice and have an extra nurse in the room just to hold my hand. Two years later, I actually did pass out. Sadly, you'd think it was because I was just told I had to have open heart surgery or a leg amputated or something. But no. No, I was just sitting there while the doctor was telling me how they were going to do a routine check of my cholesterol next. And I eat oatmeal, so this wasn't even something I had ANY concern about! Yet, I immediately started to perspire...vision blurred...ears rang. I tried to tough it, but still passed out walking from the exam room to the nurse who had to give me a prick.

My new theory has been to research before I go to the doctor so I am prepared for what they might say or do. Unfortunately, this theory has gotten me no where...except to learn that Google is NOT my friend. It's only lead me to medical sites that tell me I should see a doctor "immediately" because I could have "serious condition." Last year, when my glands were as big as two golfballs in my neck, I searched "swollen glands" and found that they could be an indication of lymphoma, cancer, hyperthyroidism, or at the very least strep throat. I went to the doctor courageous, prepared for any news. They took some tests and found.....drum roll....nothing wrong with me! Nothing. Just some really bad swollen glands that ended up going away a few days later. Shortly after that, I was convinced my lower back pain meant I had kidney disease and returned to the doctor nearly three times before I was satisfied with their answer that everything was just fine with me.

More recently, I did it again. I googled some minor symptoms and went to the doctor, basically, of course, to tell him what I had already self-diagnosed. I told him I had googled my symptoms and read on several medical sites what this probably indicated and I just wanted to nip it in the bud. I even told him for what type of medicine I needed a prescription! What a perfect patient! I could tell he was holding back laughter as he told me it was probably "nothing" and that I seemed healthy. And I'm quite certain he rolled his eyes at me on my way out the door---silly patient trying to outsmart the doctor with her google knowledge.

For a self-employed girl without insurance, my hypochondria is sure getting expensive.

Tricks are for Kids?

2006-10-31T22:27:00.000-06:00

There has been a lot of talk this year on how "adult" Halloween has become. I can probably vouch for this based on the fact I celebrated Halloween twice over the weekend and have at least one hundred pictures to show for it. My nieces and nephews, on the other hand, got a few snapshots taken before going off to trick or treat for a few hours. While I can't speak for all kids, I think I was more excited to go out to Halloween parties in costume with my friends than some kids probably were about going out trick or treating. It seems that Halloween has become more sexy than scary and more about cocktails than it is about candy. At least from my perspective, I saw a lot more mermaids and cowboys drinking martinis this year than ghosts and goblins with pillow cases full of peanut butter cups.

Dancing the night away among girls dressed as naughty nurses, kissing bandits, and sexy sailors, I couldn't bring myself to wear a Winnie the Pooh costume, yet I wasn't quite ready to break out my bikini top and wrap my legs in cellophane. I figured I could find a costume that would, at the very least, be cute. After scrounging through some old boxes, I found an authentic band jacket, which my 10 year old nephew wore a few years ago for Halloween. While he wore it with formal black slacks and the big Major cap, I sassed it up with a white mini skirt, sequin tube top and opted for the cute ponytail over the hat. And I even got the baton stick to boot! I was a Majorette. But as far as energy and creativity put into my costume, I was definitely on the low end among my peers.

Some costumes spotted were: A male body builder dressed as a Packers cheerleader, a couple dressed as a "Brick House" and a "Brick layer", a well endowed blonde woman with a tool belt and an apron that read "Home Wrecker", a man with a huge foam horseshoe wrapped around his head with baby chicks stuck to the end (chick magnet), two men each dressed as a boob, a stewardess arm-and-arm with a pilot who had lipstick kisses all over his face and a ruffled shirt and tie, Elmo, pirates in full face paint, Steve Irwin, and the list goes on... Show me some kids with costumes that elaborate!

Last night, still in my Halloween spirit, I went to visit my nieces and nephews. Halloween is a kids' holiday after all, right? Since I couldn't recruit them to trick-or-treat at my place, I went to them. The younger kids, all dressed up by their parents, looked adorable. Who can resist Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion? Or Cookie Monster and a Bear? Or the 7 year old American Idol with press-on nails? The older kids, however, are getting to that stage where they find one item in their closet and make that their costume. When I held out the treats I brought over and asked them to say, "trick or treat" the little ones sang in unison, while the older ones kind of shrugged their shoulders and said, "no thanks." The fact that they were "100 calorie packs of cookies" from Trader Joe's is beside the point. Treats are treats!

There must be a lull in the life cycle in terms of Halloween enthusiasm. I think there is that awkward age when you are getting too old to trick or treat and start to care less about the costume, as illustrated by my 12 year old nephew, who was dressed as Santa Claus and his friend (no picture) who was a Paper Bag. Yep, Santa and a Paper Bag...classic costumes. Can't you see it? Didn't your Santa wear a black face mask and a red polo sweatshirt? We'll cut him some slack considering his mom is 8 months pregnant with twins.

My conclusion is that, yes, Halloween is becoming more adult. I think the times you enjoy playing dress-up and getting treats the most are when you are 10 and under...and even more so when you are 21 and older.

Twenty-Seven Things

2006-10-23T10:38:00.000-05:00

On Saturday I turned twenty-seven. Remember a mere six months ago when I was celebrating my 26 1/2 birthday? It's now official...I am in my late twenties! I feel good about 27 though. It's a good number and I think it will be a good year.

Last year, a friend and I went out on a Tuesday night to celebrate our birthdays, since hers is a few days before mine. We were sitting up at the bar at Chino Latino chatting with the bartender, when my friend pulled out two pens and said, "Ash, we're going to make our birthday lists."

"Birthday lists? What are we? Twelve?"

"No, we are each going to make a list of things we need to do or accomplish this year. You'll make a list of 26 things, and I will make a list of 27 things." (she is one year older)

So, we sat sipping wine and writing out our lists of personal development on cocktail napkins. Looking back, I did pretty well checking things off the list. Among some items on my list were:

Take a new aerobics class (belly dancing AND cardio-kickboxing-check!)
Throw a housewarming party (last December-check!)
Go to Washington, DC (went in August-check!)
Run around Lake Calhoun with ease (I ran it all the way around, "with ease" is questionable)
Find a church to go to (Wooddale-check!)
Buy art for my walls (got a mirror, but that's it)
Read more (joined a book club-check!)
Publish at least two writing clips (I'm not sure where I was going with this at the time, but do 35 self-published blog posts count?)
Learn to rotate my rollerblade wheels (reference "handyman" blog post-check!)
Learn to use chopsticks well (I tried-but I'm still pretty hopeless!)
Be more patient with my mom (no comment-this will probably be on my list again)

Okay, so you get the idea. This year I did it again, adding one more item to that list. I'm not going to post my entire list of 27 things "to-do" while I'm 27...some have to remain private, right? But I will share a couple with you. I figure if I actually make some of them public, I'm more likely to get them done!

Drop a ski waterskiing (I've never done this before and want to do it before I get too old!)
Milk a cow
Get a nice new comfy down pillow
Visit one of the following places: wine country, Denver, Arizona, or Vegas
Learn more about finance and investing
Cook one new recipe a month
Print all my digital pictures from the past two years and organize
Use the word "like" less often
Incorporate new words into my vocabulary
Take a different kind of dance class (salsa, line-dancing, hula)
Get back my six-pack (stomach, not beer)
Attempt to read more non-fiction books
Strengthen my queasy stomach and see BodyWorlds at the Science Museum

Give you a little taste? We'll see how I do this year.

Prost to Oktoberfest!

2006-10-11T03:48:00.000-05:00

I think now would be a good time to recap what the last three weeks have been like for me and what the next three weeks look like for me.

Saturday, September 23:
Event: "Beer Olympics 2006" party at some friend's house. Played drinking games such as beer pong, flippy cup, dice, quarters, and cards
Length: 4pm-midnight
Drink: Keg Beer
Result: I lost every single one of the above mentioned games....need I say more?

Saturday, September 30:
Event: Iowa vs. Ohio State Football game in Iowa City. Jumped around between four different tailgates
Length: Started tailgating at 11 am.....and the night ended about 1am
Drink: Bloody Marys and Keg Beer
Result: Solid buzz for about 12 hours

Saturday, October 7th:
Event: Oktoberfest at Gasthof's in Minneapolis. Celebrated the German tradition with some girlfriends and cute guys in lederhosen.
Length: 8pm-2:30am
Drink: Paulaner Hefeweizen (German Wheat Beer)
Result: Pictures speak louder than words...

Upcoming events:

Saturday, October 14th:
Event: Several friends celebrating birthdays...starting at a bar downtown, then making my to uptown for another Oktoberfest themed birthday.
Expected Result: What kind of friend would I be if I didn't "cheers" a few beers to my friends' birthdays?

Saturday, October 21st:
Event: My 27th birthday...and the first birthday I will have celebrated without a boyfriend in 12 years.
Expected Result: Lots of cute single men buying me drinks.

Saturday, October 28th:
Event: Halloween observed...various costume parties.
Expected Result: Probably dressing up as a pirate...and pirates know how to party.

Maybe November will be more mellow...

Who's on First?

2006-10-04T21:04:00.000-05:00

My dad and I just had a date to the Twins game. Second game in the playoffs. We've always had a special bond over baseball. Starting in 1987 when we went to the airport to greet the Twins after they had won the American League title on the road (he'll be able to tell you who they beat and in how many games). The airport was filled with fans, so I sat up on his shoulders while Dad pointed out all the players to me. As he did, I shouted out what their numbers were. Kent Hrbek #14! Tom Brunanski #24! Dan Gladden #32! Greg Gagne #7!

Two years later we performed a variation of Abbott and Costello's skit, "Who's on First?" for my 4th grade talent show. Dad, a college theater major, really acted the part, while I, a bit of a "too cool" 10 year-old, was slightly embarassed to be doing a theater skit in front of my entire school. In hindsight, I think it is awesome that we did it though. And hey, what's not cool about a girl doing a baseball schtick with her dad, who owned the bowling alley?

As a fastpitch softball pitcher in high school, I practiced throwing my fastball and change-up to my dad every day after school. He probably chased thousands of balls down our street and never complained of swollen thumbs or a sore back, even if he did have them. And when I had two strikes on a batter in a game, I'd hear my dad in the stands muttering,"change-up, change-up."

So, when I scored some Twins tickets, I figured Dad and I were due for a baseball game together. And even though the Twins lost, we had fun. We got Dome dogs with the works on them and sat up so high we could almost touch the roof of the Dome.

I love baseball, and I think I know it pretty well. But watching it with my dad is like a whole other world and I start to see the game in the detailed way he sees it.

Here are some comments we each made throughout the game...not in conversational order.

Dad: "Ewwww...Cuddyer's got two strikes. He doesn't do well on an 0-2 count."
Me: "I read in the Star Trib that Cuddyer is getting married. Guess his fiance didn't even know what a full count was when they met."

Dad: "Notice how the umps are throwing out a bunch of balls. If there is even a smudge of dirt on there, they throw it out because they don't want ANY questions on if the pitcher is doctoring the ball."
Me: "Boof is a cool name. Maybe we could suggest that Mamadala name one of her twin babies "Boof"?"

Dad: "Mauer's up...he bats around .400 when there are players in scoring position with two outs. This is good."
Me: "Joe Mauer went to the same high school as my friend, Melissa. Cretin."

Dad: "White has struck out three times today. He's looked at the third strike every time!"
Me: "Hey...the pitcher is wearing black socks. Scott Erickson wore black socks like that too."

Dad: "Look how the outfield is playing...they're playing to the right, even though Cuddyer is a right handed batter and the pitcher isn't that fast. There must be a stat that he doesn't drive up the left hand side."
Me: "Did the metrodome get new astroturf? It looks more like real grass than it used to."

Me: "Hey, Jason Bartlett is the same age as me! Only nine days younger. He's kind of cute...wonder if he's single."
Dad: "Did you know Jason Bartlett came up from the minors, but got sent back down for a few months because Gardy wanted him to be more of a leader on the team. Now he's doing great...not as passive as he was before. Punto's a good leader too."

Dad: "Oh! Hunter shouldn't have gone for the catch on that one..there was no one there to back him up! He should've let it drop, let the guy get a single and gone for the out at second. He let his reputation as a spectatcular catcher get in the way of him making the right play."
Me: "Excuse me, miss. Would you mind taking a picture of my dad and me? Can you get the field in the back ground? Thanks so much!"

Dad: "Watch Mauer's batting routine. Every time...left foot in the batter's box...then the right foot...tap the back of home plate with his bat...one full swing...and a couple small ones. That's how he keeps the pitcher in his control so he's not speeding him along."
Me: "Let's go JOE! OW, OW, OW!!! Did you know Joe has a myspace profile? He says he likes to log-on before games and people leave him comments and stuff. Morneau too"

I love baseball...I really do! I love the strategy, I love the fans, I love the tradition. And I learn something new about the game every time I watch with my Dad...

But I'm still such a girl. I'm afraid I haven't changed much from when I was 8 and wanted to grow up to be a baseball player, but still have long hair, JUST so I could hog pile after winning the World Series. I'm still such a girl.
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Oh, and coincidentally, this is my 34th post. Kirby Puckett #34

My Cereal Story

2006-10-03T21:00:00.000-05:00

Hello. My name is Ashley...and I'm a Cerealholic. Phew. There, I said it. I'm addicted to cereal. I didn't really see it coming...being that I've been a cereal eater my entire life. It started with just breakfast when I was young. Just a bowl or two in the morning. Corn chex, Cheerios, Wheaties. The basics. A healthy way to start the day.

In college I rebelled and realized that cereal wasn't just for breakfast anymore. When I lived in the sorority house, cereal was the only "pantry food" readily available since we had a cook for most meals. That's when I learned that cereal tastes really good at about 2am after a night out. My roommates laughed at me in the mornings when my alarm went off, because I would slam it off so fast, jump out of bed and still be half awake walking down to the kitchen to get my cereal. It was the first thing I would think about in the morning...hardly giving myself a chance to wipe the sleep out of my eyes before I poured milk into that sweet crunchy cereal.

After college, it got a little better. I had to learn how to live in Manhattan on my entry level salary, which meant buying the generic cereal. At $7 a pop for a measly small box of Cheerios, I had no choice but to go with Toasted Os. It wasn't the same, but still did the trick. And I limited myself to one bowl and sometimes even substituted my cereal with peanut butter toast. But my addiction was too strong. After 6 months of no pay raise and much of my cereal money going to pay rent, I had to make a lifestyle change to feed my habit. I moved back to Minnesota where the cereal was more affordable and I could buy General Mills and Kelloggs products.

I kept it under control for a few years. I think I even hid my addiction from my sister while I lived with her for 6 months...blaming her daughter or husband for why the box of Total Raisin Bran was finished so fast. I would sneak a second or third bowl when her back was turned to me. She didn't have a clue.

It wasn't until I lived by myself, that I became aware of my problem. I'm just glad I've been lucid enough to see my cereal habit spin out of control. I was aware that every trip to the grocery store meant buying several boxes of cereal and a couple gallons of milk. But at certain points, there would be six or seven boxes of cereal in my cupboard...for me. Just me. And then they'd all be gone. Just like that. And there were so many kinds---Basic 4, MultiGrain Cheerios, Honey Bunches of Oats, Total with Strawberries...I could never decide which kind looked better. I felt like Brian Regan in the Donut shop when I was in the cereal aisle at the grocery store! All the regular flavors now have yogurt or strawberries or honey or peaches added! In the entire time I have lived in my condo, I've never had a morning where I have run out of milk or had less that two boxes of cereal in my cupboard.

I'd be sitting at home at night and I'd start thinking about all the yummy cereals in my cupboard just calling out my name. And I'd tell myself, "Just one little bowl, Ashley, just one bowl." But, then I'd open the cupboard and couldn't decide if I wanted Corn Chex or Grape Nuts...so that one bowl would turn into two. My will power was gone. It got to be that I couldn't go to bed without my stomach grumbling wondering when it was going to get its Cheerios fix. And if I ignored it, I'd be up at 3am pouring myself a bowl.

Things started happening to my body too...my nails grew long...longer than I have ever had my nails and my hair grew fast. I noticed I was going through two gallons of milk just for myself in about 10 days. When I lived with two roommates, we went through about a half gallon of milk in one week. That's when I knew I had a problem.

With no one else aware of my addiction, I had to intervene on myself and put myself in cereal rehab. My cereal cupboard has been emptied and replaced with oatmeal. I figured if it wasn't there taunting me, I might be able to go back to a normal life with a healthy mental state of mind. One where I'm not wondering when I'll be able to get my next hit of cereal. I had to go cold turkey. At least for now...but I'm hoping that someday, I'll be able to go back to having a bowl of cereal for breakfast.

I hope my story will help others become aware of the signs of Cerealism. If one of your loved ones is suffering from this disease, you can help them come clean and kick the "cereal not just for breakfast anymore" habit.

Metaphorically Speaking...

2006-09-18T23:24:00.000-05:00

I just got rid of the car I bought three years ago. Someone who knows quite a bit about cars talked me into getting a Saab. I was pretty happy about that Saab for a while--Smooth ride, looked cool, and it had potential to take me places I had never been. For a car, it had some personality and in the beginning it seemed to suit me well.

But, as anyone knows, those foreign cars can be more trouble than they're worth. In the beginning, the Saab made me smile and in the end, the Saab made me sob. Even with all the bells and whistles of that car...in time, it caused me a lot of agony. If it wasn't the tire going flat, it was the brakes squeeking, or the air conditioning going out, or the battery dying. Towards the end, it seemed as though it was in the shop all the time. And every time it came out of the shop from repairing one problem, it was back in again for something else. I was constantly trying to "fix" it. To the point that I became skeptical that the mechanics were rigging something to fail so they could cheat me out of more money and cause me more frustration. It wasn't even two weeks after I got the squeeking brakes fixed, that they started to squeek again. Several times I even knew something was wrong with the car, but just chose to ignore it because I didn't want to deal with it. I was in denial.

Even though deep down I knew it all along, it wasn't until recently that I could full heartedly admit that the car is just a piece of shit. I never gave that Saab a name, but if I were to name it today, I would've called it some variation of a four letter word. I curse the name of the person who talked me into getting that car in the first place. In hindsight, I should've junked the thing long ago. The time and energy I spent on that car far exceeded the attention it was worthy of receiving. But, I finally freed myself of it. I sold it to someone who probably doesn't know what she's gotten herself into. When she asked me why I was selling, I wanted to tell her it was because the maintenance on it was too much hassle for what I was really getting out of it. But the answer I gave her was still very much the truth. "I want to get something bigger. This car is too small for what I need."

I sincerely hope the new owner doesn't have the same problems with the car that I did. But, she decided to buy it and now it's her problem, not mine. I'm just glad she's the one driving it until it dies-Not me.

Girls' Weekend or Ladies' Retreat?

2006-09-03T10:18:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, Goose and I hosted a Girls' Weekend with our college girlfriends here in Minneapolis. We've done this in year's past, but since this year we had NO weddings and NO bachelorette parties or showers among our group as a reason to reunite, a good old fashioned "girls weekend" was back on! There is nothing like college girlfriends. Something about going through such an impressionable time in your life together that always ties you together...no matter how long it has been since you have seen each other or what you have been doing since then.

While the weekend was absolutely fabulous and the turn-out for our named Camp Hagebacher was awesome, my expectations of how the weekend would go were a bit different from how things actually went. With no husbands or boyfriends around for an entire weekend, I kind of thought we would regress to our crazy old sorority girls college days!

Here is how I envisioned the weekend:
Every one arrives late Friday evening at Goose's
place, we whip up a batch of margaritas, gab
for a little bit, then walk to a bar, stay until close, walk home singing songs with our arms around each other, put on our pjs, and dance around the livingroom listening to old college tunes before we all crash.

Saturday, every one gets up, comes to my place for breakfast, where we make omelets and drink mimosas and Irish coffee. We talk about boys, and laugh at old memories while getting a morning buzz from our Bailey's and champagne before heading out to do some shopping.

Saturday evening, we go out for a nice dinner where we order rounds and rounds of Sangria before heading out to Brit's pub to do some drunkin' lawn bowling and have some beers. Once we have our fun there and draw plenty of attention to ourselves, someone will say, "let's go dancing", so we'll find some happenin' club downtown and dance the night away. After dancing, maybe we find a good pizza joint and take down a slice or two.

Sunday morning, we'll wake up with sore feet and hangovers and go to some great mom n' pop uptown diner, where we stuff ourselves with items on the menu such as "The Calhoun Omelet" or "The Uptowner" before everyone starts to hit the road.

Here is how the weekend actually went:
Goose and I spend a couple of hours making mix cds of all our fav college hits while waiting for girls to arrive. We envision playing this CD ALL weekend long (but it only got played once as background music). Only half the girls arrive that night. We make up ONE batch of margaritas and break open a couple of Coronas, talk for a few hours before every one gets ready for bed.

Saturday, every one rolls into my place around 11am for breakfast. We make fantastic omelets, and exchange various egg recipes. After much debate, we decide to pop the bubbly for mimosas. We gingerly poured champagne into 4 girl's OJs, using only enough champage to empty the neck of the bottle. I ended up pouring nearly an entire bottle of champagne down the drain later that day. The rest of the girls show up after breakfast. We DO talk about boys (of course) and head out to go shopping that afternoon.

Saturday evening, we go out for a fantastic carribbean dinner where we order one round of Sangria. We take about a gazillion pictures of each other, covering every combination of each girl with the other. After dinner, we go to Brit's Pub, where we decide not to go lawn bowling, but instead get a table and share saucy stories. Our normal dancing queen had a sprained ankle all weekend, so we sat with her foot elevated on a chair. First yawn came at 1am and half the group left for the evening, and the second group followed about a half hour after. I popped a frozen pizza in the oven, and have to wake up one or two girls who were already sleeping to eat it.

Sunday morning, at some point in the course of the morning, the classic mom n' pop diner got vitoed and we ended up at Perkins. Yes...I said Perkins. 8 girls in from out of town wanted to go to Perkins. Well, some resisted, but still. Perkins. Enough said. But even after spending an entire weekend, together, we still gabbed and gabbed over several pots of coffee.

Okay, so I am making the weekend sound a lot more lame than it really was. We had a blast! My point being, that we just didn't imbibe and get crazy as much as I remember us always doing. Are we growing up? Amazing though, that college girlfriends can get together and it really doesn't matter what we are doing or where we are. We just need to talk and laugh and we can make our own fun! That's what girlfriends are for. Tell me the last time a group of college guys got together for a weekend with minimal booze and still considered it a successful weekend?

Shoeless Ashley, the Foot Fashion Slave

2006-08-21T17:15:00.000-05:00

I know what you're thinking; Who in their right mind would actually post a picture of their feet on their own blog? I took this picture when I was in Washington, DC last week after I had pretty much walked throughout the entire city barefoot. For those of you familiar with the lay-out of the sightseeing tour, I started at the White House and by the time I got to the Washington Memorial (the first stop of the monuments), my shoes were already off. The reason: I had lunch beforehand with a friend I hadn't seen in about four years, so I wore my "cute" shoes. Apparently, I dismissed the fact that following lunch I would be walking around to tour the city.

But Ashley, why oh why, didn't you wear better shoes for walking? Because. Because I am a slave to fashion. Because, yes, I am one of those girls who likes her cute shoes and would much rather get blisters all over her feet than be seen in tennis shoes for a lunch date. Because I forgot to bring my walking shoes to change into after lunch, okay? Because my mom always told me that I should be a foot model (based purely off the fact that my feet are size 6 and hers 8 1/2). Because if someone thinks my feet are worthy of modeling, I'm going to show them off and let them be cute! This might also be why I currently have 53 pairs of shoes in my closet. And why the second toe on my right foot dons the longest running piece of jewelry I've ever worn without removing: a 24-carat gold fitted toe ring. Because look at these shoes and tell me they're not adorable!
The irony about that day was that I couldn't bring myself to stand barefoot in front of the memorials. It felt slightly disrespectful to stand in front of almighty Mr. Lincoln sans shoes. So, I spent the afternoon taking my shoes on and off between monuments. Something put it in perspective for me when I walked along the Vietnam wall reading the names of all the men who shed blood for our country, yet I was unwilling to shed blood from the already formed blisters on my feet. I just hope President Lincoln appreciated the fact that my white thong wedge sandals coordinated so nicely with the white v-strap on my shirt that wrapped around my neck. That didn't happen by accident!

Please note: I did spot a CVS Pharmacy mid-touring, where I stopped to buy some $4 flip flops (which by the way, were cute AND comfortable)!

"No Carry-On Liquids" is the LEAST of my Problems

2006-08-14T22:03:00.000-05:00

I've done quite a bit of traveling in the past year. You'd think that by the number of flights I've taken, there would be at least a couple of glitch free rides...but you'd be wrong. I seem to not be able to take a simple getaway without some excitement along the way. Let me give you just a few examples of what flights have been like for me this past year.

Last fall I had a lay-over in Milwaukee on a flight to Boston. After twiddling my thumbs for two hours waiting at the gate for my next flight to board, I looked up to see that the gate I was waiting at was actually a flight going to Memphis. By the time I figured out my gate had moved, I raced to the correct one...only to find my plane pulling away from the jetway. Which left me in Milwaukee for another four hours until I could get on the next flight to Boston. Lesson learned: Always check to make sure the gate has not changed from what is listed on your boarding pass.
Last winter I flew into Newark, got in about midnight and picked up my one piece of checked luggage. I ignored a couple of calls from unfamiliar numbers that I got in the carride back from the airport since it was so late and had no idea who would be calling me at that time. When I got to where I was staying at about 1am, I opened up my luggage only to find that it WASN'T MINE! Yep, someone else had the exact same bag as mine, packed to the exact same fullness as mine...and I picked up that one instead of my own. The call on my cell phone was from the owner of the bag who saw mine going around the carousel and figured I had picked up his. It made for a fun second day of my trip returning the bag to the owner at his home, in a city I was unfamiliar with, and driving back to the airport to reclaim mine. Lesson learned: Always check the nametag on your luggage and put your cell phone on your luggage...it's a life saver!
Last week, I had a lay-over in Atlanta on my way to Washington DC. I had made my connecting flight and I had only carry-on luggage (this was the night before the no liquids on carry-ons came into effect). What could go wrong? We were boarded the plane, sitting in the rain, and just about ready to take off, when suddenly there was a huge crash. The plane went black and shut-down. Lights out, air out, engine out. Struck by lightning. Struck by lightning! Delayed, delayed, delayed...made friends with randoms, ate a burrito...ate some ice cream, played games on my cell phone...read the TV guide...twice. I knew there was another flight taking off about three hours later that had only a few seats on it, which was starting to look pretty good since my plane wasn't leaving any time soon. So with a little wink to the old man behind the counter, I convinced him to get me booked on the other flight, which he finally did TWO minutes before they were going to close the gate. I made it! Not much of a lesson learned in this incident...more of a thank goodness my plane was still on the ground when it got struck by lightning!

Just a few of my travel tribulations of the past year. I've got more dating farther back...like six years ago when I had 20 minutes to make a connecting flight in Detroit between New Hampshire and Minneapolis and had to run from one end of the airport to the other with a severe hangover from the night before. Use your imagination...

Reason #162 Not to Become a Crazy Old Cat Lady

2006-08-02T12:23:00.000-05:00

Before I begin this post, please bow your head and say a prayer for me that the particular client I am about to write about is not part of the blogging world. I think I am safe, but if by some chance she were to come across my blog, I may be out of a big sale! And when I say big, I mean, it might pay my gas money this month.

My mortgage loan officer friend must not have read my post on how I am taking referrals for million dollar home buyers. While he did send me a referral, he dropped a zero off of that million. But hey, work is work, so I shouldn't complain, right? He called me up to tell me about a woman he just pre-approved to buy a house who needs a realtor. "Her name is "Frannie" and she is a 46-year old, single, never been married, first-time homebuyer, once in the military, woman with 3 cats who filed for bankruptcy two years ago...but she is very nice and ready to buy a very inexpensive house." Pretty much every Realtors dream. Naturally, he thought of me and thought we'd hit it off as a realtor/client duo.

Frannie and I met Saturday morning in the 103 degree heat to look at homes for her. Speculating on what my company must be like, I dressed down in my best casual, yet cool, clothes---a white cotton t-shirt and jean skirt. She showed up in a hospital scrub shirt and jeans and commented on how I was "all dressed up." In hindsight, I probably looked like the high school cheerleader and she looked like the cafeteria lady. However, my friend was right and Frannie was really quite sweet. We had a good afternoon driving around and actually found some things we have in common. Like how she was a cop in West Virginia in the military in the late 80s...and my dad was in the Navy in Hawaii in the 60s! We also both have a brother and ummmm....oh, and we both hate Ikea! AND, we both have noses on our faces! Let me just say, thank god she found a house she liked on our first outing. Not because we didn't get along, but because there are just not a lot of great houses in the price range she is looking. Last night we sat down to do some number crunching where she pulled out a piece of paper where she had listed her monthly expenses. It looked something like this:

Cable: $50
Electric: $25
Food: $200
Gas: $125
Car: $200
Insurance: $200
Cats: $150
Smokes: $100

She had various different mortgage payment scenarios and had determined what her monthly debt or surplus would be every month after considering her monthly bills. Basically, what was concluded was even if we get this house for considerably (and unrealistically) less than asking price, she will still be living paycheck to paycheck and have little to no money leftover for retirement/savings.

Let me say it here...The day I turn 46 and can't afford the least expensive home in Minneapolis because I am forking out $250 a month for cats and smokes...please kill me gently. So far, I'm in the clear, as I don't like cats and I have never smoked a cigarette in my life...but if it starts to happen, just let me go easy. I was this close to asking her if she has thought about the Patch...or how much she really loves her cats, but bit my tongue. To each their own.

As she explained to me, she will never have children and thus her cats ARE her kids. If that means living in an apartment for the rest of her life where she regularly hears gunshots (and not because she lives near a shooting range), just so she can afford her cats, so be it. Near tears, she said, "I'm scared. Buying a house means that I'm a grown-up and I don't want to grow up!" She tells this to me...her realtor...who's 20 years her junior and owns a home. But, I'm going to do the best I can to get Frannie and her "kids" into a safer neigborhood and a home she can own. Wish me luck...I've got some tough, tough negotiating ahead of me!

Eclectic Mixes

2006-07-25T21:08:00.000-05:00

I think one of the most common questions asked in conversation is, "what kind of music do you like?" Usually, I get asked this when I am in a car with someone (friend, co-worker, client, date, whatever) and they are fiddling with their pre-sets or CDs. Every body asks this question and I never know how to adequately answer it. This is probably true for many people. With ALL of the music out there, how can anyone really sum up their music tastes?

I like a lot of music, but have decided that my taste is best described in terms of "songs" rather than "artists." I usually use the word "eclectic" to describe my music selection, which is probably true. I like a little bit of everything...little pop, little country, little rap, little classic rock. I'm notorious for having mix CDs which encompass every genre of music. Ride in my car for an hour and you'll never have so many mood changes in your life! If I were to categorize the music currently in my ipod in terms of what kind of mood each song puts me in, it would go something like this...

Songs I like to work out to:
Let's Get it Started---Black Eyed Peas
Gold Digger---Kanye West
Changes--Tupoc
Anything Michael Jackson
Anything Prince

Songs that make me want to play an instrument:
Landed--- Ben Folds Five (piano)
Don't Stop Believin'---Journey (piano in beginning and then guitar)
Midnight Blue---Lou Gramm (air guitar)
Fool in the Rain--Led Zeppelin (drums)
Don't Fear the Reaper---Blue Oyster Cult (cowbell)

Songs that make me want to dance around my living room:
Thriller---Michael Jackson (really, all Michael songs make me bust a move)
Knock on Wood---Amii Stewart
Jump---Pointer Sisters
Footloose--- Kenny Loggins (go ahead, laugh)

Songs that make me want to slow dance:
Your Song---Elton John
By Your Side---Sade
Waiting in Vain---Annie Lennox

Songs that make me want to belt out singing in the car:
Wide Open Spaces---Dixie Chicks
To Zion---Lauryn Hill
I Will---Alison Krauss

Songs that make me want to sing a duet:
Come What May---Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman
The Prayer---Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli
Cruisin'---Huey Lewis and Gwenyth Paltrow

Songs I like to chill to:
Walk on the Ocean---Toad the Wet Sprocket
In a Little While---U2
All at Sea---Jamie Cullum

Songs that can bring a tear to my eye:
The Things We've Handed Down---Marc Cohn
I'm Already There---Lonestar
The Broken Road---Rascal Flats

Songs that bring a smile to my face:
Where You Are---Marc Broussard
Chariot---Gavin DeGraw
Raspberry Beret--- Prince (okay, all Prince songs make me feel good)
Sunday Morning--- Maroon 5

There you have it. Obviously hard to capture them all, but good to lay it out there. Next time someone asks what kind of music I like, this is the answer they are going to get.

Text Messaging Abuse in Dating

2006-07-20T22:06:00.000-05:00

Back by popular demand...(and with a few edits).
___________________________________

I have a love/hate relationship with text messaging. At times I think it is the best thing ever. Like when I want to send a quick informative message to someone who isn't able to answer their phone at the time, or reversely, get a message from someone who can't call me at the time. It can also be fun for some flirtatious back and forth banter. But with this texting craze, I think it's necessary to set some boundaries for the guys out there who are abusing text messaging when trying to communicate with women. Here are three tips:

1. Grow some balls and CALL if you want to ask her out. Do NOT...I repeat, do NOT ask her out via text message for a first date. No girl is impressed by reading "what r u doing sat night?" on her cell phone. Be a gentleman and do it the old fashioned way.

2. If it is 8pm on a weekday and you are both capable of carrying on a verbal conversation at the time, do not send her a passive "I'm too scared to call you" text message and expect to have a decent conversation that way. If you text something like, "how was ur day?", don't expect much of a response. If you don't want to call, send her an email so that she can respond on a fullsize keyboard, without having to use 17 keystrokes just to type "good."

3. Do NOT use text messaging as a medium for communicating serious emotions for the first time to a woman. Not matter what you need to say, be a man and tell her verbally so she isn't stuck trying to interpret the tone used in your text. Enough said.

Just had to get that out there. And since I don't really know who comes across my blog, enjoy this post while you can because it may get deleted once I start getting "hate texts" from the subjects who provided material for this post.

The Jerk 101

2006-07-13T10:24:00.000-05:00

I went to a BBQ at my friend's boyfriend, Gabe's, new house. As I was getting a tour of the home, I noticed a DVD of The Jerk lying on the floor by itself. Those who know me, know this has been my favorite movie since I was about 8. To this day, if someone asks me my favorite movie, I still say The Jerk. It's my staple.

There are few people I've come across who actually own this movie on DVD, so of course I flipped-out and told them how this is my all-time favorite! Gabe responded by telling me he wrote a paper about The Jerk in college. Apparently, he took some Culture and Society class in college where they studied the movie The Jerk and the TV show The Simpsons for an entire semester!

Here's the kicker: Later in the evening, I inquired as to where Gabe went to college that he could take such an awesome class. "University of Iowa," he said. What?! Needless to say, I was extremely disappoined to learn that I went through 4 years as a Journalism major (with a minor in Sociology) at Iowa and somehow missed the class where my final would have been to write about Navin Johnson's run through the societal classes...from rags to riches. It would've been the easiest 'A' I've ever had! (Of course, I would have been the really annoying girl in class reciting lines from the movie the whole sememster).

And to think...I just like the movie because I think it is funny! Who knew it was intellectual?

Who is Your Celebrity Look-Alike?

2006-07-09T19:26:00.000-05:00

If you are looking for some entertainment, check out www.myheritage.com. You can upload pictures to this site and it scans the faces and finds which celebrity you best match. Now, I should warn you that it isn't always consistent. Depending on which picture you upload, you may get a couple of different celebrities. For instance, I scanned two different pictures of a friend of mine. I won't mention any names, but I do think she reads this blog. Her result for one picture was Naomi Watts and the result for the other was Billy Bob Thorton. And she's gorgeous, so I don't know what was up with Billy Bob!

I have gotten about 10 different people for different pictures, so I would recommend trying several photos just for kicks. It's really just a matter of which picture you scan and the angle of your face I think. Still fun nonetheless!

Who is your celebrity look-alike?

The Unlisted Realtor

2006-07-06T09:58:00.000-05:00

I'm going on my fourth year of being a Realtor and have managed to pretty much do absolutely NO marketing. Unlike your typical Realtor, I don't have my picture on my card, I don't send out mailings, I don't have a bus bench or a billboard, and I don't have my own website. While, I've been doing just fine so far, I've recently taken a couple of steps to kick up my marketing plan a notch.

Step#1: I ordered name riders to hang up on my listings with my name and number on them instead of the generic ones. I have been keeping the extras on the floor in the backseat of my car so they are accessible when I need to put one up. Here is how the first step of my marketing plan has already gone awry:

Last weekend I met some friends out in uptown. At the end of the night, after nursing one beer, I found myself among some drunken friends and friends of friends who needed rides homes. So, I ended up with my friend's friend and my friend's new boyfriend's friend (follow me?) who needed rides home (and wanted to get dropped off at the same place). I didn't ask questions, I just wanted to get them somewhere safe and she happened to live only a couple blocks from me. Girl gets in the front seat of my car and Guy gets in the backseat. I'm not going to mention any names, but I will tell you that Guy is a new Vikings player. So, I've got a hoochy girl in my passenger seat and a big, black drunk man in my back seat.

"What's this sign fo'? You a Realtor?" Guy asks holding up my name rider with my name and cell phone plastered all over it.

"How'd you guess?" I say.

"Well, I figured it was either that...or you used this to pick up guys."

"Yeah!" I laugh out loud. "I stick it in my window when I am driving around!" I say sarcastically.
He laughs.

I safely drop them off at Girl's place in uptown. "Bye, kids! Have fun!"

On my way home, now 2am and driving through uptown alone, I am at a stoplight and hear a honk from the car next to me. I look over to see some guy waving. I roll my eyes...guys are relentless at 2am! Seriously, what does he think I am going to do right now? What girl would wave and smile at some freak trying to pick her up at a stoplight at 2am? Hmmmmm....well, maybe a girl who had her name and phone number propped up in the backseat of her car--that's just an invitation for a honk and a wave! Yeah, it wasn't until I got home and out of my car that I noticed that Guy, who I so nicely had given a ride home, thought it would be funny to put my name rider UP IN THE WINDOW OF MY BACKSEAT! Fortunately, I didn't get any freaky calls that night.

Step #2: I got my "Realtor picture" taken.

I have always been very anti-realtor picture. They've always seemed so cheesy to me and I never understood the importance. But I was finally convinced it's good to put a face with a name in this business. I'm not ready yet for the picture on the business card or the bus bench, so this is my first attempt at using my picture, since I don't know what else I am going to use if for right now. So, here it is...Ashley, Realtor.

And trust me, I had a hard time deciding on a picture. I immediately ruled out the ones with my head tilted about 45 degrees to the side.

There is something about coupling my picture along with my cell phone number and plastering it around town that is making me think twice. Hey, marketing gurus out there, I'm looking for some advice on how I can use my new tools to solicit business. Not dates, but business. How can I tastefully and professionally send out my name, picture, and phone number around uptown and say "call me...if you want to buy a house"?

Tag line ideas? Catch phrases? Memorable marketing products? Roll 'em in...

The Fourth of The July!

2006-07-03T16:21:00.000-05:00

The 4th is my favorite holiday! Here are some of my best memories:

Swimming in Tutu and Kapuna's pool as a kid. Sparklers!

Dressing up as outhouses for the neighborhood parade with my friend, Megan. Costume: a refrigerator box

Dressing up as synchronized swimmers for parade with Megan. Cosume: plastic pool with a hole cut in the middle.

TPing the assembly grounds the night of the 3rd. Going back with my sister when we were waaaaay too old to still be TPing and getting scared that we would get caught. We hid in the bushes from the little kids.

Getting stranded in the middle of Lake Minnewashta on a Seadoo for several hours by myself. I had the best seat for fireworks!

Boating on Minnetonka: Big Island and tubing behind boats with crazy drivers!

Happy 4th of The July, Everyone! Have fun grillin' and chillin'!

How 'Bout Them Apples?

2006-06-26T21:36:00.000-05:00

I've always been proud of my ability to throw a spiral with a football. Apparently, this is a skill all the H*g***n daughters possess since we were each the superstar on our high school Powderpuff teams, respectfully. Just ask us about the Touchdown Trio.

Do you think it's weird that I think one of my perfect dates would be to go to a park on a sunny day and toss around the football? Seriously. I love playing catch! If I have a son one day, he is going to be in good shape to be a QB because his mama is going to want to run drills with him in the backyard. Especially with mine and Scott E's genes. Good arms on both sides.

In fact, here is a picture of me when I was playing catch with my 6 year old niece. I wanted to teach her how to throw a football...and she wanted to hula-hoop. Which, by the way, I am also fantastic at doing! I used to hula hoop for HOURS! So we combined our efforts and in the process, I discovered a new hidden talent of mine. I am a Hulahooping Spiral-Throwing Queen! How 'bout them apples?

I'm kind of pulling a Jordan move here too with my tongue hanging out. If I had gotten it a little farther, I could've been a triple threat and shown my other talent...touching my tongue to my nose. So hot!

Hello? Hello? Who's Out There in Cyberspace Reading This?

2006-06-25T13:03:00.000-05:00

When I first started this blog thing a couple months ago, I thought it was the coolest thing ever, but I am slowly learning that it can throw a kink in my personal life. At first, I was pretty selective in who I told about it, but I guess eventually it is irrelevant because, really, anyone can find it if they do the right research.

I sort of assume that the only people reading my blog are those that are actually making comments to my posts, which are mostly my blogging family members and friends. (Let me make it known that non-bloggers can make comments too as "other" or "anonymous"). But occasionally I'll be talking to a friend who will make reference to my cottage cheese salad or will ask if the scab on my leg is a result of my rollerblading accident or if my car brakes have stopped squeaking yet....and I am pleasantly surprised to learn that they have been reading my blog! Great! I'm happy to hear that I have an audience, as stealth as they might seem because of their absent comments.

The one's that kind of catch me off guard are those that know I have a blog, but I never told my blog address. Thanks to Google, they were able to find it pretty easily, which I knew was a possibility so I shouldn't be shocked. Hey, everyone does it! Googling other people is totally a guilty pleasure of mine. Let's just say that I ran into [someone] recently who I met a few months ago, but haven't really talked to for a week or two, for some reason or another. And let's just say, totally hypothetically, that [this person] mentioned that he read my blog. What should my first reaction have been to hearing this? Should I have felt pleased and flattered that he took the time to find my blog...or should I have turned bright red in embarrassment? Or should I have gone home and read my entire blog to see what sort of insight he may have gained to me by reading my blog? Well, let's just say I did the latter, (hypothetically speaking of course). I fully assessed the situation before I determined any emotion on this subject. What would someone who had been getting to know me, who already knows that I am quirky, interpret about me just by reading this blog?

1. I sometimes eat weird combinations of food. Big deal.
2. I'm edgy enough to take a belly dancing class, but not voluptuous enough to actually look great doing it.
3. Every Tuesday I eat catered lunch at mansions. That's just how I roll.
4. I'm an athlete, but I throw a baseball like a moron.
5. I use the word "piggy" and I actually chose this as a topic to write about not only in a college paper, but yes, also on this blog. Who isn't entertained by a little potty humor?
6. I will use just about any man for their handyman skills (or lack thereof). But, keep in mind that I will not compromise my morals just to get some work done.
7. I may or may not have an extremely obese family.
8. Our local weatherman may or may not think I am a stripper.
9. I know a lot of frickin' random people. What can I say...I'm a social butterfly.
10. I've got an ex-boyfriend or two that might be generally referenced...but I've got a pretty healthy attitude about relationships. If it's meant to be...it's meant to be, but don't dwell on it.
11. I want to have Scott Erickson's babies.

Okay. That's not so bad. No skeletons in the closet revealed here. I'm an open book kind of girl. I may exaggerate some of my stories a little bit just for effect, but for the most part, this is me.

HOWEVER, the thing to also remember is that my blog is linked to other blogs, including family. Who's to say where my readers might be linking and what they are learning about my family, which may be freakishly represented depending on what posts one is reading.

For instance, if someone were to link over now and read some of my family members' blogs, they may think that:
-My oldest sister, pregnant with babies 5 and 6, is such a progressive mom that she dyed her 2 pre-teen sons' hair bleach blonde and put cornrows in her own hair.
-My brother asked a 20-year old pimp to instill wisdom into his 15-year old son, whom he calls "stupid" and encouraged to watch porn.
-My sister-in-law is apparently nostalgic for her carefree hippy days of 13 years ago...but now has a 15, 14, 4 year old...and a baby girl. Huh?
-My other sister really loves her kids and husband, is a total goodie-goodie and has a content life watching Family Feud and going to bed at 9pm.
-My dad is so in-love with my mom that he still remembers poems he wrote her, but spends his free-time counting in his head the number of terrorist that are running around in Iraq.
-My mom, the non-blogger, wants to feel involved and so she leaves comments on every single blog, on every single post.

That is why, as long is this blog is accessible on the internet and I continue to publish self-deprecating and unflattering posts about myself and link them to my family member's blogs, that I may, just may, run the risk of freaking some people out who are still getting to know about Ashley. But, it's a risk I'm willing to take. This is Ashley. This is my family. We blog.

Chuck Knoblauch Syndrome

2006-06-14T22:12:00.000-05:00

I remember watching figure skating in the Winter Olympics about 10 or 14 years ago. I couldn't tell you who got the gold that year or what any of the routines were like, but I do remember one routine in particular. One female French skater got out on the ice and started out her performance beautifully. She was so graceful...until she had her first nasty fall during a jump. That one fall skewed her concentration so much because she knew she had blown her chance at a medal, that she basically gave up. I think she fell at least 5 more times during the same performance. It was almost embarrassing to watch it. Although I didn't know what to call it at the time, I like to refer to this condition as Chuck Knoblauch Syndrome. Let me explain....

Some of you might remember when Chuck Knoblauch got traded to the Yankees after his run with the Twins. When he was playing 2nd base for the Yanks, he started fielding the ball and would overthrow it to first base. After a couple of bad throws, he started thinking about it too much and soon enough, he was incapable of performing the simple motion of throwing the ball from second base to first base. Nothing was wrong with his arm...it was purely psychological.

This same thing happened to me when I was pitching softball in high school. I could fastpitch with the best of them. For a petite girl, I could throw some heat! Problem was, I got so good at that underhand motion, that when I had to field the ball on the mound and throw it to first base to make the out, I had to remember how to throw that completely different motion overhand. Same thing happened to me as it did to Chuck...I "over-thought" it and ended up "over-throwing" on what was supposed to be the easiest out in baseball!

I remember playing in one game specifically, where the other team really messed with me. After the coach discovered my condition of not being able to throw to first base, he started coaching the batters to bunt the ball, leaving me to field the ball every time. It was almost a guarantee that the batter would get on base if that pitcher with the bad arm got to the ball! What a mean coach! (I think I fought back with my own ammunition and struck a couple of them out with my killer change-up before they could bunt on me). But, at least I didn't feel so bad when I found out even MLB guys getting paid millions of dollars had the same problem. To this day, I still have problems throwing overhand. "Yeah, I was an all-star pitcher, but I can't play catch with you or play in your softball league, because I still don't have confidence in my throwing abilities." Really embarrassing.

So why is this coming up now? Well, because I can now relate my condition to another sport of mine. I've been logging about 60-70 miles a week on rollerblades. Three times around the lakes about 6 days a week. Even though I've been rollerblading for years, this is definitely my biggest year yet. I'm addicted to rollerblading! The amazing part of it is...I have NEVER wiped-out going around the lake. I have had tons of "close calls", tons of times where I have almost run into someone, tons of times where I have hit a rock and tripped over my skates like an idiot until I have gained my balance again...but NEVER actually wiped-out...until yesterday...when I did it twice.

I guess it was only a matter of time. The more miles I racked up, I figured it was inevitable. Yesterday, I decided to be adventurous and try a different route. Mix it up a little. So, I took a path to a new lake and failed to see the chalked up sharp right turn arrows on the sidewalk and the "SLOW" signs. I took the turn a bit too fast and just couldn't keep my control and BOOM...I was sprawled on the path. I recovered quickly, got up and continued skating with nothing but a scrapped up shin and some pebbles embedded into the palm of my hand. Good thing it was early in the morning and not many people were out, because I'm sure it would have been funny to watch.

There was something about that wipe-out that was a total blow to my ego. I've actually bragged about my skills and clean rollerblading record to several people recently. I can't believe I fell like a loser! Sure enough, I was 20 minutes into my skate, when I had another crash. I skated up behind a girl running and right before I was going to pass her, I saw a huge amount of sand on the path. Sand is not good for rollerblades, so I put on the brake and came to a screeching halt. Don't crash, don't crash again! But I didn't stop fast enough and I completely crashed into this running girl from behind. Smooth, Ashley.

(And on a side note...I also walked into a table in the front lobby of my work building hours later and spilled my cup of tea all over the mahogany wood. My head was completely turned talking to someone behind me and I walked right into the huge table with a rather large audience. Maybe I just had a clutsy day)!

No accidents whatsoever on rollerblades...and then two on the same day! My first accident was so on the brain that I was paranoid I would do it again...and I actually did! Needless to say, I'm glad it is supposed to rain today, because I think I need to take the day off to gain back my rollerblading confidence. I can't afford to get any more scraps on my legs during skirt season!

I'm a Handyman Whore

2006-06-08T08:12:00.000-05:00

My brother and sister in-law gave me a "Do-It-Herself Guide to Fixing Almost Anything in the Home" book for a housewarming gift. While this was a great idea for a young, single woman homeowner, this book has been collecting dust on the top shelf in my closet. In my opinion, the book only needs to be one page and should say, "Call up handy friend/ boyfriend/dad/brother. Ask them to help you."

As much as I try to be a "do-it myself" kind of woman...I'm just not. I have on many occasions, taken out my big yellow toolbox and looked at the witchits and gadgets and pushed tools around pretending like I know what I'm looking for. It's filled with screws and nails and thingamagiggies, but I just don't know what is supposed to be used for what! When do you use a mollybolt and how do you know when to use a screw over a nail? Are they supposed to go into the drywall or are you supposed to nail into a stud?

Dad has come in handy a lot...last summer he helped me move, hooked up my tv, and rescued me when I got a flat tire on a 99 degree day all in about one weeks time. Of course all of this happened during a brief period when I was single, so Dad politely told me after all of this, "You need to get a new boyfriend to do all this stuff." I also promised brother in-law, Big J, a couple of years ago that my new boyfriend owes him "big time" after I got a flat tire in -10 degrees about 3 days after I broke up with a boyfriend. What timing!

The on-going problem in my condo is that my closet rack keeps collapsing. Here is the sequence of events:

July 1, 2005: Closet rack installed by Dad
Late July 2005: Closet rack collapses. Current boyfriend as of July 2005 (we'll call him "J")repairs. I actually ask him to do this on our 4th date. I cook him a sophisticated dinner of Rice-a-Roni, chicken on the George Forman grill, and salad out of a Dole bag in exchange for his services.
September 2005: Closet rack collapses again and "J" now lives far, far away. Time for a professional. I ask the cute, young handyman who does work in my building to help me this time. He installs another hook thingy in the closet and this seems to work until...
April 2006: I come home from vacation to find the rack collapsed again. Conveniently, I am single again. I call up Guy friend #1, who seems all too eager to help newly single Ashley fix the closet in her bedroom. I greet him at the door and preface his entrance by telling him that I am allowing him into my bedroom to FIX MY CLOSET ONLY! No funny business. He concedes and when he finishes, I give him a pat on the back and a Corona.
June 2006: Yep, closet collapses again! I send email to current date as of June 2006 (we'll call him "W") at work and casually mention my closet. He responds to my email, but fails to respond to the part about the closet. Maybe "W" isn't so handy!

I send a text message to Guy friend #1: My closet collapsed again!
Guy friend #1's response: bummer!
My text: I have Corona in my fridge!
No text back from #1. Guess my payment of a Corona wasn't good enough for him.

Ask handy Guy friend #2 for his help, who coincidentally just moved into my building. He is willing to help, but is on his way out of town and can't help until next week. So he takes a look at it and advises me on what I need to do to fix it. Thanks #2.

Yesterday I came to terms with the fact that if this is going to get done, I'm just going to have to do it myself. So I make a trip to the hardware store. While I am there, I remember that I need to buy an allen wrench in order to rotate my rollerblade wheels. Who knew there were about 58 different sizes of allen wrenches? Guy friend #3 had rotated my wheels last time with his set of wrenches, so I gave him a call from the store.

Me: Guy friend #3, I'm at the hardware store. What size allen wrench did you use to rotate my wheels last time?

#3: I don't know. Why don't you just have me do it again?

Me: Because I don't want to have to call you every time I need to have it done, #3!

#3: Okay, why don't I just come over and do it for you and I'll leave the right size one with you so you'll have it for next time.

Me: Okay. Also, my closet fell and I need some hook things and some plastic screw things and bolts and stuff...do you know what size I should buy of them to make it stay?

#3: [Sigh] Ash....I'll bring over my whole toolbox.

And an hour later my blades were rotated and my closet was fixed. It was #3 who gave me the best advice of all. "I think it might be time to bring some clothes to Goodwill. It keeps collapsing 'cause you have too many clothes on it!"

Let's count 'em shall we? Were you able to keep track? In the last 11 months, I've had 1, 2, 3, 4...5 men do work on the same damn closet rack! And that's not counting the others I had look at it or ask if they could help. Am I a handyman whore? Can't I just find one trustworthy handy-man who knows what he's doing?

Maybe I do need to dust off that book afterall...

It's a Minuscule World

2006-05-30T21:04:00.000-05:00

Is it just me, or do other people find themselves saying, "wow, it's a small world" ALL THE TIME? I think I find reason to utter this phrase at least twice a week...and that's without even trying to find a reason. It seems like every one is connected somehow. It sometimes feels like I can find some random connection to every person I meet, which makes me wonder if the world was ever really that big to begin with. Here are a few examples I've had of this:
I joined a book club last winter with about 15 women (only two of whom I knew previously). All in a matter of two hours at our first meeting, I had determined that one woman's husband(who just moved here from Oregon) is the cousin of my best friend from pre-school. I find out that another girl drives the exact same car as me, only after I find out that she actually lives in my same condo building. There have been numerous times that I have confused the other black Saab 9-3 with my own and actually tried to get in it a couple of times.
A few weeks ago, over dinner, I find out that my date's family owns a bowling alley in Iowa. Growing up in a bowling alley myself, I've never met anyone else who actually had the job of spraying bowling shoes with Lysol or got the keys to the candy machine because his parents owned the place. I mention this weird coincidence to my best friend, who informs me that her husband, in fact, bowled at this SAME 8 lane bowling alley in rural Iowa for seven years before they moved to Minneapolis! "Yeah, he got to know the owner so well, we almost invited him and his wife to our wedding!" she tells me. Small world. I then go to a party with this date to his good friends' condo downtown (expecting to know no one). As it turns out, I was practically greeted at the door like Cheers greets Norm. "Ashley!" A guy who I knew when I was about 16 gives me a hug, hands me a beer, and introduces me to his fiance, who I played softball with and took dance classes with when I was younger. I then look at my beer mug engraved with two last names and quickly realize that the couple throwing the party (who I hadn't even been introduced to yet) were Skipper sweethearts who graduated a year ahead of me. Small world.
I met a woman at a networking event in Plymouth a month or so ago. After speaking with her for a few minutes, we discover she lives in the building across the street from me and realize our balonies actually face one another. I find out what company she works for...a large company with many offices in the Twin Cities. I throw out the name of THE ONLY person I know who works for this company. "Yeah, he's my best friend! We are going salsa dancing together tonight."
A few months ago, I developed a small (very small) crush on a guy who I had met once. I made the mistake of telling this to my mom and an even bigger mistake by telling her his name. (What was I thinking?) I proceed to get an email from my mom a week later while she is in London telling me that some woman who she is traveling with knows this guy's family. Apparently, her son went to college with him. Small world? Or maybe just a fine example of my mom talking about my business too much. How was that connection made anyway?
When I was in college at University of Iowa, I remember going to visit someone in Grand Forks, ND for a weekend. While I was there, I was introduced to some guy originally from Illinois. "I know someone who goes to University of Iowa. I dated her in high school," he tells me. Okay, well it's a school of 28,000 student, I think to myself, so I doubt I know who she is. Go ahead pal, give it a shot. He tells me her name and my jaw drops. "Yeah, I know her. She's only my ROOMMATE!" Small world.
One semester in college, I lived with 3 very good friends of mine. All of them were from Illinois, but in different parts of the state. After winter break, one of them came back to school with a videotape of a dance camp she had been to when she was about 15. We couldn't figure out why she was making us watch some video of a group of girls doing an unorganized dance without costumes. She paused the tape when it came to one part of the dance and pointed out the girl next to her. There, LINKED arms next to her in a kickline is our other roommate. Apparently they had crossed paths (or in this case, arms) before at a summer camp they both attended. Neither one would have remembered this if there weren't physical proof of their encounter.
Five years ago, while in Campina Grande, Brazil, visiting an old exchange student my family had, I meet an American who is there as an exchange student. She is staying with the neighbors of the family I am there visiting. "You're from America! What state?" I ask her, excited to be speaking English with a fellow American.

"Minnesota!" she says.

"No way! What city?"

"Oh, I'm from a town southwest of Minneapolis called Chaska," she tells me.

Unbelievable. Small world. Literally in this case. I was in Brazil!

I seriously could go on and on with examples like these. Do you have them too? Think of how many other "small world" connections we can probably make if we just have these conversations with every single person we meet. Some you might have to dig deeper than others, but there's gotta be something there. Screw Kevin Bacon, I think there has got to be six degrees of seperation from just about every one in the world. Okay, at least in Minneapolis.

Piggy Paper

2006-05-16T22:21:00.000-05:00

I went over to my parent’s house the other day to look for some gold pleather pants from college so that I can wear them on a date tomorrow. But that’s a story for another post. While I was looking for these pants, I came across several boxes of keepsake items ranging from first grade art work to college papers. One paper I came across that struck a memory was one that I wrote first semester in my freshman year of college for a Rhetoric class.

I remembered the assignment was to write about something that we were once ignorant about but came to be wise about after an event or as we got older. I took the topic quite literally and wrote about the first thing that came to my head: Piggies.

Piggies, you ask? Yes, one of my first college papers was about flatulence and how I was raised in a house where we were told to not to say “fart” or “pass gas”, but call this release of air a “piggy.” The thing was, I didn’t know that not all people didn’t commonly refer to this as “piggy” until I was older and started using this word in front of my friends. For instance, “Katie, did your dog make a piggy?” It was always used as a noun instead of a verb. So, I was ignorant about the fact this was a word used solely in the H*g*m*n household and I wised up when I tried using it out on the “streets”…or, in this case, my friend's basement.

I read through this paper and got to the end with the professor’s comments, which said:

Ashley- Although your topic seems quite unexceptional, your story is well-told and nicely illustrated, such that one can visualize your family. You write well, and I’m glad to see you know how to use dialogue to bring the event to life! I especially like your tone; there is a light, humorous quality to it. Perhaps now you could work on the significance some more, and what the experience of learning “piggy” really means for you.

Would you mind reading the part I marked to the class?—RW

I mean, maybe it wasn’t the best topic of choice, but really, how significant can I make this experience? I remember getting this paper handed back to me in class and going, “he wants me to read this out loud?” I read the part he had marked, using the words piggy, fart, and toot all in the same sentence in front of my new classmates. He wanted me to illustrate my use of dialogue in the paper to the class. When I finished reading, there was no response from the class. Just pure silence…not even a chuckle. What happened to the good 'ol potty humor high school kids had? Another kid in the class was asked to read a piece of his paper too. He wrote about a nearly fatal car accident he had when he was 15 and how he was in a coma for five months. When he came out he had to relearn everything…people, memories, how to tie his shoes. His topic was how he had taken life for granted before this accident and how this event gave him a whole new perspective on life. Again, mine was on how I learned that the rest of the world doesn’t call farts-“piggies” and how that was an embarrassing moment for me. I like to think that I have matured since then. Perhaps I have had a few more life experiences that have made more of an impact on me than the day I found out about piggies. Kind of ironic isn’t it? I must have been pretty ignorant then if that was my topic.

Car Trouble

2006-05-11T17:32:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I bring my car in for the THIRD time in two weeks to have the brakes checked. They were squeaking…so I brought them in and got them replaced. They squeaked again…so I brought them in and had them reconditioned. They squeaked AGAIN! At some point, I have to wonder “are these car mechanics trying to screw me over?” Just stop the squeaking! That’s all I ask!

I learned my lesson in dealing with car mechanics at an early age. In high school, I always had my dad with me when I had to bring the car in. He knew the auto body shop guys well, so I knew they would take good car of him…and thus, me. But, when I went to college in Iowa City, I didn’t have the same luxury.

I bought my very first car, a red soft-top Geo Tracker, after my sophomore year of college. When I went back to school that fall, I knew there were some repairs that needed to be made. I told Dad what was wrong with the car over the phone and he coached me in what to say to the mechanics when I brought the car in. Basically I needed two new tires, my air-conditioner was broken, and my 4-wheel drive wasn’t working correctly.

I marched myself right into the auto shop, feeling assertive and fully knowledgeable about what was needed for my car. I wanted to tell them exactly what I needed so they wouldn’t tack on a bunch of extras things like, “Oh, you also need a thingamagiggy for your zoomawhagot or else your car might explode.” (Kind of how, every time I go in for an oil change they manage to pull some nasty-ass thing out of the hood of my car and tell me I need it replaced because it might make me sick. “It’s only $20 to replace,” they say. Okay, whatever. $20 so I don’t get sick. Fine, replace it.)

So, I said to the mechanic in Iowa City, “I need two new front tires, and my air-conditioning isn’t working and needs some Freon. Also, will you check to see why my 4-wheel drive isn’t working and call me before you do any work to repair it? That’s all I need done. Thank.”

The next day, I got a call from the shop. “Your vehicle is ready, Ashley. We got the new tires on for you.”

“Great!” I say, “And did you also get the Freon for the air conditioner and check the 4-wheel drive?”

Long pause.

“Well, actually, we didn’t put in Freon because you don’t actually HAVE an air conditioner in your vehicle. And the 4-wheel drive is fine. You just have to lock your hub caps. There’s a little switch on them that activates your 4-wheel drive.”

Gulp. How was I supposed to know the blue part of the temperature control wasn’t the air conditioning, but rather the “cool” part of the heat?

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll be in to pick it up.”

After that episode, I kind of gave up trying to get too technical explaining what is wrong with my car. Now, I merely describe the noises my car makes and don’t bother trying to figure out what needs to get done.

So, my conversation with the mechanic this morning went like this…

“Hi, Dave. Remember me, Ashley. You rode around the block in my Saab last week so you could hear the squeaking in my brakes. Remember you heard it and said it was my front brakes? (I don’t wait for his response) So, I left my car with you AGAIN to fix it. Well, they are still squeaking. And I drive clients around in my car for my profession, and when my brakes CONTINUE to SQUEAK at every stoplight…AFTER I’ve had them “fixed”, it is reflecting poorly on you, because I am going to start telling them who is doing the work on my car unless you get rid of this noise. I’m dropping my car off tomorrow and I don’t know what you have to do…I just need you to make the squeaking STOP!!”

I probably sounded much sweeter than what I am portraying…but it sounded pretty cool, huh? Too snobby? Well, you know what they say: Saabs are for snobs! Hopefully it should get the job done. Lesson learned: I should’ve gone to Midas.

A Goose to my Maverick

2006-05-08T12:30:00.000-05:00

The best part about being single is having a girlfriend who can do spontaneous things with you. Or who is always up for going with you to meet a cute boy and his friends, or go out with, or talk with you as you obsess about things like, "Do you think he'll call?" "Should I call him?" A friend of mine coined this term best about a year ago when I was supposed to go meet someone and his friends and was feeling a bit intimidated going by myself. So my single-at-the-time friend, said, "I'll be your wingman and go with you." Awesome! A wingman! My partner in crime. Soon after, I become "not single". Now, I am single, and she is "coupled", so I had to find myself a new wingman. And who better than my old college roommate, Laura. Aka. Goose

It was about six or seven years ago that Goose and I would go out together in college. We'd always introduce ourselves as Sky (me) and Veronica (her). We'd run home from downtown Iowa City at 2am, picking up stick in the yard signs and go hang out on the porch swing of random people's houses. So, I want to give a shout out to my wingman for participating in what felt like a college relapse weekend. Thanks for taking some of the weight off of my sisters' shoulders, who are probably starting to dread see me sign into Instant Messenger because they know I am going to say something like, "Want to talk about boys?" Thanks for being game for going to a "kegger" with me and thanks for spontaneously driving to the horse races with me to meet our new friends. Thanks for being my Goose. Or, you can be Maverick if you want. Either one.

The "not-so-much" Biggest Losers

2006-04-30T22:13:00.000-05:00

By special request from Minnehaha Mama, I am posting an email that I sent to all of my siblings and their spouses back in January. Let me give you a little background on what provoked this email. Sister J in December proposed that the family have a "Biggest Loser" contest. Each married couple would be a team and whichever couple lost the most percentage weight over their starting weight would win. After the end date (April 1), they said they would all go out to a Manny's steak dinner...losers pay. Me, not wanting to feel left out of this fun, family competition, volunteered to be the diet coach. I saw it my duty to live up to this role and offer encouragement to these "losers." Now that the contest is over, I can say that it was the most pathetic attempt at weight loss I have seen! Perhaps my coaching tips were not up to par. That given, I have included my revised list in red line.

Hey Losers,

Hmmmm...some challenges, huh? I think you all have to find a diet that is tailored to your needs and weight loss plan. Some of you may want something stricter than the others. My biggest challenge for you all is to start making some lifestyle changes.

For instance, the "no chips" rule should be happening all the time, not just for one week. Instead of thinking of this is a "diet" that ends on April 1st, think of it as a lifestyle change where you can get into some healthy habits that will stay with you long-term. There is no point in losing weight short-term if you are just going to go back to your regular eating habits in the spring, right? Try finding some healthy alternatives to chips and other bad foods. This is not to say you should never eat them, but I think you should really, really, try to cut them out of daily diet. I'll throw out some random thoughts that should always apply and hopefully at least some of these will appeal to all of you.

1. Throw out your crappy food. Just throw it out or give it to your kids or something. Don't even buy it, because it is just tempting you by being there. If your kids eat this stuff, keep a separate cabinet just for them. You need to stock up on lots and lots of food that is good for you that you can eat as alternatives. (Baby carrots, snap peas, cereal, cottage cheese, grapes, nuts, turkey, ham, yogurts, hard boiled eggs, prunes (tastes good, very nutritious...and they help "drain" you out) If you haven't already, get your kids involved...if they know what you should and shouldn't be eating, they'll help discipline you. Minnehaha Mama and Eric got their 4 year old son interested in cooking and...Whala! They didn't even WANT to eat his creations!

2. Drink lots of liquids. Water, milk, gatorade. This fills you up...thus you eat less. Drink a glass of something before and during every meal. Try the liquid diet...may I recommend Happy Hour at Figlio's? $2 beers and you drink right through dinner!

3. Sit-ups, push-ups, stretching and leg lifts are great exercises to dowhen watching tv. You can even do the girl push-ups on your knees...still agreat work-out. Butt squeezes are great when you're driving. Do them until your butt is sore. Seriously. Use hand weights when you walk on the treadmill. I still like butt squeezes...but try them while blogging now as we will probably get more in that way. Blogging butt squeezes!

4. Treat yourself. Nothing wrong with a little treat every once in awhile, but be smart about it. Try light ice-cream or frozen yogurt, but get in the habit of getting the low-fat kind. Edy's has great 1/2 the fat ice cream that tastes delectable. Scoop it up in a mug instead (you'll have less, but it still feels like a full portion). Ginger snaps are good too because they satisfy your sweet tooth and help with digestion. Or have sugar free hot chocolate with milk. Bailey's over ice, white russian...just a little nightcap. And if you have enough, you can pass out and won't get those midnight munchies!

5. Be creative with condiments. For example, I made tunafish with spicy mustard, pickles and olives the other day and ate it like a salad. It was yummy and filling. Bread does taste good without butter! Put mustard instead of mayo on your sandwiches. Put salsa on your salad instead of dressing. Try applesauce on an english muffin. Hey, I still have fun with this one...but might add sweet potato and Prego sauce to the list.

6. Be active in the little things you do. Take the dog for a walk, take the stairs instead of the elevator, run down the driveway to get the mail. Even if you find yourself with limited time for a work-out, 10 minutes of anything somewhat active is better than nothing. These little things make a difference! Who am I to talk? I live across the street from my office and still drive to work!
Multi-task...again, blogging butt squeezes.

7. Music. Sometimes I put my iPod on and listen to the Pointer Sister's "Jump" and I dance around my condo like Hugh Grant in Love Actually while I am cleaning. Upbeat music helps in anything you are doing...walking, dancing, sports, etc. Find some songs/music that work for you. Black Eyed Peas get me going...I actually ran all the way around Lake Calhoun yesterday because their songs pumped me up so much. I felt like Rocky. Other recommended tunes include: Mary J. Blige, Sara Groves

8. Hang out with a friend/relative who is active. Exercising is always more fun when you can do it with someone. Find a racketball buddy, join a volleyball league, or set up a time to walk with a friend every Wednesday. I know you are competing with each other, but maybe you can find activities you can do together. Remember, I am always available for walks, runs. Anyone want to take a Cardio Kickboxing class with me Mondays at 6pm in St.Louis Park? How about a Belly Dancing class on Wednesdays? Didn't I tell you about belly dancing? If anyone had taken me up on this offer, you would've been able to make fun of me while getting a great ab work-out!

I can keep going, but I think this is good for now. Hope this helps! I support you all and am available for personal consultations any time! Hey...why didn't anyone take me up on this?

Extreme Home Makeover: Sorority Edition

2006-04-29T09:35:00.000-05:00

As a follow-up to my post a few weeks back about my tornado hit sorority house, I wanted to share the latest news I have heard.

Apparently, structural engineers surveyed the house and recommended it be demolished. Unfortunately, this looks to be about right. Which leaves the AXO girls with a few options: 1) Sell off the land and buy or build a new house elsewhere on campus 2) Buy an existing building that could be used as a sorority house...or 3) Become Extreme Home Makeover's next project.

The above picture was taken when the girls made a try-out tape for Extreme Makover's show. Now, I have never really watched this show from beginning to end, but I have caught the tail-end of it many times (since it's on before Desperate Housewives on Sundays). It seems to me there is a common theme to the show. Some family with lots of kids, one who's terminally ill and one who's in a wheelchair, simply can't afford to all live in anything bigger than a one bedroom home because of the hospital bills. So Extreme Makeover comes in, builds a kick-ass huge house and saves the day. And without fail, everybody cries at the end.

I was trying to imagine what the execs at Extreme Makeover where thinking when they saw this tape from AXO. What I heard was that all these girls stood in front of the destroyed house and chanted their recruitment song, which goes:

A-X-O is the only way to go,
We are the best,
Forget the Rest
That's all you've got to know

Then the house President stepped forward and told what happened to the house. I'm not sure what else she said, but I don't know what this will do for ABC's ratings.

I mean, will the execs really feel bad for the chanting Big Ten sorority girls, whose 14,000 sq. ft. historic home, originally built for the University's President, has been destroyed by a natural disaster? Or, will they see this as an opportunity to do something original on the show, and risk being criticized for condoning Greek life? How do they turn away another story of a single mother who needs a house for her 3 kids with leukimia in favor of 100 upper-middle class sorority girls who have a strong and patronizing alumni network?

I wonder if on the try-out tape, they mentioned that the AXOs hold a Chili Dog Fair every fall to raise money for a local girl who has a rare kidney disease, or that we have a billiards tournament to raise money for Domestic Violence Intervention and Prevention, and volunteer at the battered women's shelters? Or that year after year the AXOs are among the highest number of participants and groups raising the most money for the University's Dance Marathon, a 24 hour dance-a-thon that raises money for kids with cancer for the Children's Miracle Network...or that the family the AXOs sponsored was so overwhelmed with support, and hospital visits to their little girl, Alissa (who has since gone into remission) that they were given several more families to direct their efforts to....or that the AXOs consistently have the highest participation in other group's philanthropies to support their altruisms?

I don't know. That's just what I would've mentioned if I were in charge of making this tape. Then again, I haven't been there in four years, so I don't know what has changed. But, good luck girls! I understand you're worth it, even if the rest of the world doesn't. If they do pick you and you get a pimped-out sorority house, I'm sure it will be a real tear-jerker show.

People Watching...or Watched by People

2006-04-25T20:38:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite things about living by Lake Calhoun is the people watching. Being out there on a daily basis, I think I've seen all creative forms of exercise there are. There's the typical dad running with the three-wheeled stroller, the couple holding hands on a walk, the lady walking her miniature puppy, the man carrying his dog while he rollerblades, the shirtless men's volleyball league ........................................................ Oh, sorry. What was I saying?

Today alone, I saw a 280 lb. black man in an orange sweatsuit power-walking. And I'm talking about in the way a woman would do it...complete with full armswings. I also saw a woman in a business suit on rollerblades as if she had just gotten of work and swapped her pumps for her blades. Then I saw a man sitting in a contorted position in the grass...meditating...oblivious to anyone around him.

Then there are the regulars...the older mafia-looking gentleman with the big belly who walks around with a wife beater on always looking like he's out of breath. I haven't seen him since last fall. He must've decided to let it his hair go gray over the winter since it was brown last I saw him. There's a couple that I always see hanging out by a tree with their great dane, which still freaks me out every time I see it. It looks like a horse! Marathon man runs everyday and usually laps me a couple of times and we wave when we see each other now.

It kind of hit me today as I was rollerblading, that as much as I enjoy people watching and chuckling at these crazy people, that "people watching" really is a two-way street (or in this case, sidewalk). I'm just as much a victim of being watched as anyone else. This came to me today in particular as I was rollerblading, listening to my tunes, and singing...yes, singing. Not just humming along, but full out singing to Gavin DeGraw's, Chariot, while on rollerblades. It's such a feel good song, I was singing loudly, not really realizing how loud I really was. As I became aware of smirks on the faces of people I passed, I recalled other times I have been "watched by people."

Like the time I found myself recalling something funny and laughing out loud to myself (read my bio if this confuses you), while I was walking by myself. People who know me, know this is normal for me, but when I subject my Calhoun colleagues to these outbursts, they might think I have some screws loose. And I know people have caught me in this behavior because I have seen them look at me and chuckle. Then I get embarrassed and laugh more. Oh, well. I've always thought of my walks and rollerblades around the lake to be "Ashley time", but sometimes I forget people are watching.

Weekend Highlights

2006-04-24T13:40:00.000-05:00

The water in my building was turned off...while I was showering...mid-shampoo lathering. I finished rinsing by pouring a Brita water pitcher over my head.

After a night out on Friday, I was escorted to my car via a shoulder-ride (not piggyback, but shoulder-ride) down Hennepin Ave. in uptown.

I sneezed approximately 257 times.

What did you do over the weekend?

Stepping Stones

2006-04-23T17:53:00.000-05:00

I think I am the only person my age (or older) who still celebrates their "half birthday". People usually stop clarifying their age in "halves" when they're about 8. That extra "half" when you're a child is pretty significant. "I'm not 4, I'm four and a half!" For me, every April 21st means that I am only 6 months away from my next birthday...or 6 months past my last birthday, depending on how I look at it. This was an especially significant half birthday for me because I am now 26 1/2 and have only 6 months left of my "mid-twenties". Yep, in 6 months, I leave the age bracket that categorizes me with 24 year olds and I join the ranks of "almost 30 year olds".

So what's a suddenly single 26 1/2 year old girl to do? Did you catch that? Subtle, I know, but you read correctly. Yeah, my condo is off the market...and Ashley's back on the market. Looking at offers from local residents only! Many of you have said, "you seem to be doing amazingly well." Here's my secret.

In my 10+ years of dating, I've realized that each experience teaches me something new. I sometimes think that when something great comes into my life so randomly, that it must be fate. But really, each of these people are just stepping stones, bringing me to the final destination. Each person in my life serves a purpose...maybe they come in to teach me a lesson, or to make me a better person. Maybe they give me a new experience, and perhaps I'm there to serve a purpose in their life. Isn't it weird to think how everyday decisions we make, whether big or small, can change our life paths? Think about how many things have to line up to get you to be where you are today and how one thing along the way could've thrown everything in a different direction. It's amazing to think about, but also comforting to believe that these decisions and events are all just part of God's master plan.

With that belief, all I can say is that there is no use in trying to figure things out and to know that it just happened for a reason. I have lots to be happy about. I'm simply taking what I learned from this experience and moving along to find my next stepping stone. Because I know that each one is bringing me closer to a gem. (But, good lord...how many stepping stones can you give a girl?)

To the multiple offers I've received from my guy friends to be my "rebound," I say, "Thanks fellas, but no rebound necessary. I'm not really feeling that vulnerable." I guess I feel lucky. I've had some wonderful people come into my life who have given me some wonderful experiences. And to think that they've all just been stepping stones bringing me to something even more incredible?! Wow! I don't know what lies ahead for me...but damn, it's going to be good!

Sky, Lance, and Paul Douglas

2006-04-20T14:16:00.000-05:00

I read a blog post on Meteorologist Paul Douglas and it provoked me to write this story.

Last summer I worked on a condo project set to be built downtown right next to WCCO-TV. Paul Douglas and his wife stopped into our grand opening event and I had the pleasure of speaking with them about buying opportunities, all the while trying to be professional and treat him as a normal human being by not really acknowleding that he is a local celebrity. We corresponded through a couple of emails regarding the building afterwards. I noticed that his email was listed under the name Doug Kruehoffer (yet his emails were signed "Paul Douglas"). I quickly realized that "Paul" was actually his TV name, so I politely inquired in one email what he would prefer me to call him, Doug or Paul? I figured this was the right thing to do, being that we were working in a professional setting and "Doug" was really his name.

Skip to another story. My dad, who's a complete character, was a theater major in college. At some point when he was a young man, he gave himself a stage name, being that he was an actor of sorts. My entire life my dad's alias has been "Lance Sterling." Growing up, we never once had a dinner reservation under our real last name. It was always under the "Sterling Party" or "Lance S." My friends have even resorted to calling him "Lance." Since I share my dad's strange sense of amusement, I decided that I needed a stage name as well and assumed the name Sky Mackay. I use this name most often when random dudes try to pick me up. If I'm not interested, they don't get my real name. Or, if I am traveling, meet people along the way that I know I am never going to see again...why not be "Sky"? Since my dad actually performed in the theater, he referred to his alias as his "stage name." I did the same.

Back to Paul Douglas. While I believe it was the right etiquette to ask what he preferred to be called, my statements after that question were probably not. You see, I thought it would be good to build rapport with Paul/Doug by letting him know that we have something in common. After all, he was thinking of buying a condo from me. I wish I still had the email I sent so I could copy and paste it here, but I wrote something like, "I have a stage name too. I sometimes go by Sky Mackay." Now, Sky isn't a trampy name by any means. It's not like I called myself "Alotta Fagina" or anything. But in hindsight, I question whether I should have used the phrase "stage name" since that might imply that I actually use it on stage. And, um, I guess there are other forms of entertainment performed by women on stage that aren't theatrical. You get my drift. Afterall, who would really mention having a stage name if it was just for fun? Me. Yep. Me. Real professional, Ashley.

Paul/Doug never did reply to that email. I like to pretend that it was just because he was not that interested in living in a condo that overlooked his work building...but it could've been because he got a little freaked out that the young woman realtor he talked to decided to mention that she had a STAGE NAME...and he didn't really know how to interpret that. There are a lot of wackos out there afterall. And I'm afraid he thinks I'm one of them!

Great Scott!

2006-04-18T23:11:00.000-05:00

Okay, so we all know Tomkat had their baby. I bet Katie Holmes never thought that her teenage crush would actually end up fathering her first baby. So it got me thinking....

If I realized my girlhood dream as Katie Holmes has, I would've ended up with Scott Erickson (MLB pitcher, former Twin), who I became obsessed with during the 1991 World Series. Huge crush. It wasn't until 10 years later that he ranked as one of People magazines Most Beautiful People, so I like to think I discovered him first. I was 12, he was 24 and he was supposed to wait for me to grow up so we could live happily ever after. Unfortunately, it didn't work that way. He got traded and ended up marrying Lisa Guerrero, who posed topless for P***boy in January (I haven't seen it...just read about it)! Needless to say, I never stood a chance. And I don't dare use the actual name of the magazine I am referring to above...you never know who's scanning these things. Maybe it's a good thing it worked out that way 'cause I think Katie got the short end of the stick.

Now Accepting Referrals for Million Dollar Home Buyers

2006-04-18T14:13:00.000-05:00

Tuesday is my favorite day of the workweek because it is the official Realtor Tour day. This is when all the houses that have gone on the market in the past week are on parade for agents to preview. Basically it is an opportunity for us realtors to scope out new listings for our buyers and be on the cutting edge of real estate property. So, if you see a bunch of realtors cruisin' around on a Tuesday afternoon, we're just looking at other people's homes and eating catered lunch. Rough day on the job, huh?

The flaw with this system, in my opinion, is that homes of all price ranges are on tour at the same time. Since I work mostly with first-time home buyers, naturally you would think I would be looking in my clients' best interests and checking out homes in the "first-time home buyer" price range, right? Wrong. If you had the opportunity to go have lunch at fancy homes on lakes on a weekly basis, wouldn't you? The problem, now 3 1/2 years into regularly touring mansions on Tuesdays, is that I have become the multi-million dollar homes' worst critic. This is not to say I haven't had my jaw drop to the floor seeing some of these places. But, I find myself playing the game of, "If I had as much money as it costs to buy this house, would I buy it?" More and more often, I find myself saying, "no". It's as if I have seen TOO MANY of these houses that my taste is becoming TOO discriminating and I am becoming some sort of mansion snob! This coming from a girl who happily lives in a 750 sq. ft. condo.

For instance, today I saw a house listed for $2.8M. Beautiful, very European turn-of the century house near Lake of the Isles. Every one else walking through was drooling, but I walked away muttering to my co-worker, "master bedroom closets are too small and kitchen was too closed off from the rest of the house." Not to mention that the refrigerator door was made of glass. Is that some rich posh thing to do? I mean, who wants to see all their food---crusty condiments, leftover take-out boxes?! (Mom, if you are reading this, I definitely wouldn't recommend the glass door for you). And, if I'm going to spend $2.8M on a house, it better be ON the lake, not three blocks off it. Wait until you hear my review on the $4.9M house I saw a couple weeks ago. Piece of junk. But, it was on the lake, so that's the price you pay...literally. I definitely would buy the one I saw for $10M on Lake Minnetonka...so don't think I throw a hand in the face of them all.

My conclusion, is that I am just working with the wrong types of buyers. I really should be tapping into the ever so large pool of upper bracket buyers because that would be much more compatible with my Tuesday touring preferences. And with my expertise at valuing these estate-like properties, I'll take them to the best $4.9M home there is! That being said, I am now welcoming referrals for multi-million dollar home buyers. So don't feel like you have to hold back anymore. Send 'em my way.

Belly Dancing Fool

2006-04-17T18:17:00.000-05:00

I recently took a belly dancing class. Inspired by the hula dancing I've watched before, I figured belly and hula were one in the same. They're not. While hula dancers are hip-py, belly dancers are, well, jiggly...at least that's what I gathered from the other full-figured women who were in the class with me. Let's just say now I know how the lone little chubby girl in my ballet class felt.
Who knew that belly dancing actually required a belly? I certainly did not. I don't know the ideal body type for becoming a world-class belly dancer, but based on the fact I was the awkward looking one of the bunch, the favor is heavily weighted (no pun intended) to the type that can "snake their fat rolls" and "shimy their soft tissue" as the instructor so nicely euphemised. Which by the way, she did excellently! Maybe belly dancing should be therapy for girls with eating disorders. They'll realize they can never become accomplished belly dancers until they have some jiggle. Next time, I think I am going to try for hula lessons. I mean, I used to be really good with the hula hoop so that's gotta be good for something, right?

Home Sweet Home

2006-04-16T21:56:00.000-05:00

Growing up, I told my parents they couldn't move until I was in college. Breezy Pt. Rd. was such a familiar and happy place for me that I didn't want to leave it. While most couples usually downsize when they become empty nesters, mine upgraded to, I have to say, a much cooler house than what I grew up in. Go figure. I still drive by my old house on occasion, where the tulips my mom planted are no more, and where there has consistently been a "For Rent" sign in the yard. The neighbors bought the house as a rental--probably until they decide to tear it down. Where's the love? Where's the nice young family creating memories there? Where's the dad and daughter playing catch in the driveway? And the dog pushing rocks around with her nose? Where are the kids hiding in the laundry shoot in a game of hide-and-go seek? And sleeping up in the loft on Christmas Eve? Where's the girl practicing dance routines in her reflection in the big picture windows in the living room? Just like my family used to do. I drove by on Christmas Eve once a few years ago, and there wasn't even a big Christmas tree in the window! Maybe there were Jewish renters living there...not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just saying the house looked unloved.

About the same time my parents moved, I found a new house of my own in Iowa City...the Alpha Chi Omega house. I only lived there for two years of college, but created about as many memories there as I did in 19 years of living in the house I grew up in.

I moved into this sorority house with 45 "sisters", which was quite a change from the seven years previous of living with just my parents. One semester, I lived in a room with 8 girls. Seriously. We had one sleeping room filled with bunkbeds that we slept in every night. Someone was always snoring, or talking in their sleep, or falling off the bunkbed...okay, that last one was me. We had so much fun in those two years, that my friends and I filled up three entire poster boards filled with funny quotes of things that happened. We played practical jokes, combated bats in the house, scared off crazies who tried to sneak in and steal our underwear, got ready for dates and formals together, ate dinner every night with our house mom, gathered in the lounge to watch 90210 and Dawson's Creek, had post dinner dancing jams in our rooms, hug time on the couch, and sunbathed on the tiered deck. We had our chapter meetings in the basement, and fraternities came to serenade us in the foyer. There was always someone to chat with coming home from class and laughter was nonstop.

My sorority sisters and I always enjoy going back to the house when we're back in Iowa City. Memories come flooding back as soon as we step in front of the three-story tudor house on Washington St. Sadly, a tornado ripped through Iowa City last weekend and seemed to touch down right on my sorority house. Word is that the damage is so severe, it is beyond repairing what is remaining.

What is to become of my childhood house, I don't know. But I don't get the feeling that family fun, as I knew it, is being carried out there. And while I know another sorority house will be found and the girls will create memories in a new spot, I am most sad that my legacies can't continue to carry out the same girlish goofiness within the same walls that I did. It's not the physical structure of these houses that I miss, but that fact that I can't go back, revisit them and take comfort in the fact that new people will be loving them and creating memories in them for years and years to come.

Dinner for One

2006-04-16T20:01:00.000-05:00

Now that I'm approaching my first full year of living alone in my one bedroom condo, I've found the most common question asked of me is, "What do you usually do for dinner?" Most of the people asking me this live in a house full of kids where finding meals to suit the entire family is important, and probably also difficult. I think they are just trying to reflect on those days, like..."Tell me again what it's like when you don't have to feed anyone else?" My response, usually, is that I sometimes eat out with friends, sometimes grab something from Noodles or Subway, and sometimes I make salad or chicken or spaghetti or something. This is all true...usually. But a more accurate response would often be, "Well, last night I nuked a sweet potato in the microwave for 5 minutes, covered it in spaghetti sauce and ate it." It's really good, I swear. I just have never really been bold enough to tell people the truth. And the few that I have told haven't exactly asked me for my recipe. Don't get me wrong, I do like to cook...stir fry, pasta, stew, you name it. The problem is, anytime I make these things just for myself, I end up with leftovers to last me the whole week. I really liked that chili I made, but it got kind of old on the fourth day.

Since I am a pretty healthy eater, my solution is to find good meals that work for one person. Sometimes that means grazing throughout the evening on grapes, cheese slices, peanut butter on a spoon, carrots and popcorn. Sometimes it means making chicken on the George Foreman at 6pm, making rice a half hour later and having green beans for a midnight snack. And sometimes it means having buffalo wings with a beer at happy hour and then coming home and having a bowl of cereal. Yeah, that's right.

This is not to say that when I do have a family to feed that I am going to serve them my random food preparations...like my special cottage cheese salad. But I am just enjoying this time in my life to do it however I want. So how am I supposed to answer the question, "what do I usually do for dinner?"

We all have our cuisine quirks, right? My mom used to get us to eat broccoli by dipping it in mayonnaise. I thought this was a normal way to eat it for a long time. So, before you judge my sweet potatos and spaghetti sauce, fess up. But, if you do try my recipe, use Prego Garden Combination. Good stuff. Hey, it sounds a lot better than what my brother says my nephew prepares in his post "Making Soup."