u r b a n s l a n t

So, yeah, it’s Monday, and I’m wrecked, despite the fact that I didn’t have to kick any ass after all over the weekend. The past four days were still truly something else, starting with my insane flight to Chicago. You know something’s just not right when it turns out it would have been faster to drive from Minneapolis to Chicago than to fly. No, seriously. There’s definitely a story there that I plan to tell, just not today, since I lack the energy to do anything other than watch reruns of Six Feet Under while in a vegetative state. And even that may be a challenge.

Sometimes shit just happens that blows your entire day apart. I was all set to write about how Mr. Dangerous, the guy I’ve been seeing, took me to Martini Blu to celebrate my birthday, and how I finally got to order Chilean Sea Bass, which I’ve always been curious about since Chilean Sea Bass doesn’t actually exist and is really a made-up name for the less-appetizing moniker Patagonian Toothfish. Wise move, I’d say. At any rate, it was delicious. I was also going to discuss, once again, the most current issues regarding my tendency to be technologically, er, challenged when it comes to computers, and how it’s really nice to have someone in your life who actually knows what the hell they’re doing so that you can stop fluttering your hands around the keyboard and clicking things at random as you pretend to know what the hell you’re doing. Not to mention my plans to spend the next few days in Chicago for Christine’s bridal shower and some all-around Chi-Town fun.

But now that’s all shot to hell. Nothing’s happened to me, but some serious shit is going down in the life of a certain friend of mine, so it looks like I’ll be spending the weekend taking numbers, kicking ass, and asking questions later. It’s not going to be pretty.

Guess who just entered the last year of her twenties? That’s right, I’m 29 today! It’s a little sobering to think about, but hey, I still get carded about 90% of the time, so that helps. And really, isn’t 29 the new 17 or something? I’d like to think so. Hmm, where’s that prom dress when you need it? At least I have the next 365 days to live up the rest of my faded youth before I hit the big 3-0. Now that’s a sobering thought.

Florida was great. I got to see my now four-month-old twin nieces for the first time. They’re adorable and such content babies. When they’re not eating or sleeping, they hang out in their cribs or in their swings looking at everything with their huge eyes, or they sit and quietly watch episodes of Baby Einstein. They rarely cry or even fuss. My two-year-old nephew adores them. I taught him how to eat with chopsticks (well, sort of), and he taught me that I should never, ever reveal where I keep my Tic Tacs. I took one out of my purse and gave it to him, forever associating myself and my purse with Tic Tacs and turning him into Pavlov’s dog. Throughout the day, every day, I’d hear a small voice ask “Tic Tac?” and look down to see his angelic face peering questioningly up at me as he pointed to my purse. One morning Jeremie asked him to say good morning to me. He looked at me and said, “Good morning, Dan–Tic Tac?” And with that sweet voice of his and his big eyes, who could resist? Surely not Auntie Tic Tac.

I spent the latter part of my Florida trip with Joy, my best friend from high school, and her family. Other than Joy, everybody in her family solely refers to me as Captain D, or Captain for short, a nickname that was coined during one eventful white-water rafting trip that Joy, her sister, Jen, and I took during spring break of our senior year. Normally this wouldn’t be anything significant. However, when I say that they all call me Captain, I mean that they never call me Danielle. Ever. At home, in public, directly or in reference to me. A few years ago Joy told her mom that I was coming to visit.

Joy: Danielle’s coming to visit.

Joy’s mom: Who?

Joy: Danielle.

Joy’s mom: Who’s Danielle?

Joy: Mom, Danielle.

Joy’s mom: I don’t think I know her.

Joy: Danielle. Known her since I was twelve? Champion sleeper? Used to stay at our house all the time?

Joy’s mom: I do not recall that person.

Joy: Mom, Danielle! We worked at TCBY together?

Joy’s mom: Oh, you mean Captain?

True story. This time, Joy arranged for her brother-in-law, Chris, to pick me up from my brother’s house and take me to Orlando where they all live. I had to call Chris to give him directions, and although I’ve met him plenty of times, as I was dialing, I wondered, “Does he know my real name?” As you can see, this is a valid question. So when he answered, I opted for the safe route and blurted, “Hey, Chris, this is Captain D!” And of course he knew exactly who I was.

I had a lot of fun hanging out with Joy, since this was the first time in more than five years that I’ve spent longer than twelve hours with her. I got to meet Jen and Chris’s nine-month-old daughter, Layla, an angel who is serious competition for my nephew and nieces as the best baby ever. We went to the beach, stopping at Steak n’ Shake to takhomasak or two (seriously, if there’s one thing I miss about Florida, it might be cheese fries and a cookies and cream shake). I found out that although I tend to fall down if I drink too much, I can still tell you exactly where the car is parked, which helps when your sober friend cannot. I also tried rock climbing for the first time with Chris, who was excited to have a game partner, since Joy and Jen have absolutely no interest in it. We went to an indoor center to climb while Joy, Jen, and Layla watched for purely entertainment purposes. After learning how to tie knots and belay, I climbed my first wall successfully. It was fairly easy. It was also slightly angled instead of absolutely vertical, which helps more than you know. Then I tried a vertical wall. Things went well until I was halfway up the wall without a feasible hold for my right foot. I stood there, clinging to the wall in an entirely unnatural position, realizing that I had absolutely nowhere to go. And then I started laughing. Not good.

Jen: Go, Captain! Rock on!

Me: I can’t go any higher!

Chris: Captain, there’s a hold for your right foot if you lift your leg up near your waist.

Me: [attempts to lift right leg to waist level while balancing entire body weight on left foot placed on another tiny, shallow hold] I can’t!

Chris: I told you not to wear jeans!

Me: Listen, if I had absolutely no pants on whatsoever, I still couldn’t get my foot up there!

By this point, all of us were laughing hysterically (as well as some of the staff), except that all of them were on the ground, while I was trying not to fall off the side of a vertical wall. The harder I laughed, the more my muscles burned as I tried to dig my fingers and climbing shoes into the slippery holds. And the more I tried to hold on, the harder I laughed. So I laughed and clung and laughed and clung and laughed and eventually had to give up and let go, as Chris lowered me back to the ground. Then I belayed for him as he raced up the same wall in less than two minutes. Show off. I climbed one more inclined wall, and then I had to stop. For the next two days I couldn’t turn the pages of a magazine without my hands cramping up and my forearms aching. Of course, I have practically no upper-body strength at all, but even Chris’s arms were shaking when we left. Rock climbing is a serious workout. And, according to Jen, watching it is a seriously entertaining and worthwhile experience. Then we went to an amazing Polish restaurant for borscht (beet soup) and pierogies (potato and cheese dumplings) and blintzes and cabbage rolls. I had no idea Polish food was so incredible. It was probably the best meal I had during my entire trip.

And then it was over and I had to get up at 5 a.m. to make my 8 a.m. flight. Now I’m back home and getting ready to return to work part time next week and then head to Chicago on the 26th for Christine’s bridal shower. I feel like I’m somehow shirking my maid-of-honor duties, since I’m not doing anything for the shower other than showing up. I’d call it laziness, but Christine insists that it’s not practical for me to plan since I live in Minneapolis, so I’ll side with her on that one. In the meantime, I should probably try to figure out what else I should be doing that I’m not.

In celebration of finally finishing my taxes, I really, really wanted to splurge on one of these:

However, I decided this might not be the wisest decision to make, since I don’t currently have a job and just spent $80 on a strapless bra to go with my bridesmaid’s dress. For that price, it damn well better record my favorite TV shows and have the ability to translate phrases in three different languages. Comprende? Anyway, I responsibly decided that I can’t really afford to get a swanky MacBook Pro right now. But I can afford to splurge on these:

I saw them a few months ago at Nordstrom and somehow refrained from taking them home. However, I couldn’t get them out of my head. I thought about them constantly. I pulled them up online, just to get a glimpse of them and their utter fabulousness. I described them in intricate detail to my friends. And then I happened to be back at Nordstrom yesterday and, with Niki’s adoring approval, decided to go ahead and get them, even though they cost twice what I’d normally pay for shoes. But, really, can you blame me?

Then this morning I received a contract writing position with my former company, so it looks like I’ll be heading back to work on a part-time basis as soon as I get back from Florida in a few weeks.

Which is good, because I think I might have to get another pair in gray:

Until then, I’ve got plenty to do. Tonight I’m headed to Beth’s for Shannon’s baby shower. Shannon and I met in karate about six years ago and have been friends ever since, since we can actually spar with each other without wanting to deck the other person. Unfortunately, Shannon now lives in North Carolina, and I haven’t mustered the courage to venture back to class without her. Also, because my instructor would die laughing if I currently attempted a side kick in front of him, but that’s beside the point. Beth and I went to the same junior high, but didn’t meet each other until Shannon introduced us, as Shannon and Beth were college roommates. Beth and I quickly bonded over Harry Potter, popcorn, and margaritas (although not necessarily in that order) and now Shannon’s having a baby and we’re all getting together to celebrate her upcoming addition.

Then tomorrow I need to get serious about packing before my plans tomorrow night, because I fly out on Saturday afternoon. The rest of the week is going to fly by, I’m sure. That’s okay, though, because now I have a superswank pair of siren red pumps at my disposal. Life is good.

Gators win!