Category: thoughts

I like clever name tags, where there’s a little space for something extra. A random fact. Favorite color. Spirit Animal. You get the idea.

I guess I should say I usually like them. The version at the Creative Mornings launch left me feeling a little… sad? stumped? It asked one simple question: What’s the last chance you took?

Ordering a questionable spicy octopus dish at Sushi Bar a couple of months ago didn’t seem chance-y enough. The line stayed blank. Am I more risk-averse than I give myself credit for?

To get to a big chance I took, I kept being drawn far into my past. To launching Think Kit with just two days of planning several years ago. To leaving a great job and moving to Indy during a challenging economy back in 2009. Or even further back, to driving aimlessly across the country with no hotel reservations and no agenda in the summer of 2001.

Maybe I need to reset my thinking on chance. Is ordering something a bit crazy off the menu enough? I’d say no, but I don’t need to sky dive to experience the thrill that can come with chance either. I’d be happy to be able to say I’m taking chances on people, on art, on writing.

What was the last chance you took?

Funny to think, a week ago I had never heard of such a thing as a Polar Vortex (which also goes by other equally incredible names: polar cyclone or circumpolar whirl). Another funny-not-really-funny thing, who’d have thought all those winters in Chicago wouldn’t have shown me the toughest cold I’d ever felt? That Indy would earn that honor?

Sunday:
There had been warnings. Go to the store. Stock up! There may be outages. Eight to 12 inches, etc. The snow was falling thick and fast, like the kind of snow they try to recreate on movie sets.

Our power outage came early. Before four o’clock. Louie was hopeful we’d be back up and running in time for Downton Abbey by 9 p.m. I didn’t share such high hopes.

We walked the dogs. I shoveled the walk – round one, at least. Louie cleared out a path to the grill for a dinner of chicken and veggies (it was supposed to have been dumplings, but when you have just a grill to work with, you compromise).

Life lesson #1:
Things that work well by candlelight: dinner, a neck and neck game of Trivial Pursuit.
Things that don’t work so well by candlelight: washing dishes. Ah well, they got done. Close enough.

We took stock of our neat, small pile of firewood, decided to save it, in case we really needed it. With an extra sweater, it was still warm enough inside. We weren’t yet wearing hats and gloves. Early to bed.

Monday:
Louie was resourceful, ground our beans with a mortar and pestle and made coffee on our camping stove. It was tough prying myself out from under the down blanket, but there was hot coffee, and it wasn’t that cold yet, not really. Before the power died, Louie had made a coffee cake. I begin to realize my survival odds, if things came down to that, are greatly improved thanks to him.

I needed to check in with work, and the only way to charge up our phones was to dig out the car. We piled on clothes until I felt absolutely Stay Puft – quadruple shirts, triple pants, double socks. I re-discovered the inferno that is this vest I knit long ago, had deemed too hot to wear inside. It’s a miracle my coat buttoned. Still…

Life lesson #2:
No amount of layering prepares you for negative fifteen degrees. And we’re not even getting into wind chill, which went into the minus forty range. Instant numb.

We started losing a degree per hour in the house. By 2 p.m. it was 38 degrees inside. Irrational fear of losing the indoor plants to frost set in. One of my two dogs actually started shivering. In the house. We’d been waiting, conserving, but gave in and built the fire.

All five of us, Louie and I, the two dogs and the cat, piled into a five by two foot space directly in front of the blaze, camped there all night. We played games, ate piping hot brats and kraut from the camp stove. It wasn’t half bad. We had each other, and that fire. It all felt like an adventure, one we knew would come to a close.

The temperature had mostly leveled out. When it was time for bed, we were down to 34 degrees inside. Truthfully, we fell to sleep, and deeply, between the quiet, the dark and the incredible power of down feathers.

Tuesday:
I woke fitfully at 3 a.m., absolutely burning up. And, man, did that feel good. I ignored any notion of decorum and yelled: The power’s back! We were already up to a balmy sixty degrees. As I peeled off hat, mittens, wool sweater and vest, I realized the television was fuzzing away in the other room.

The rattle of the heater pushing hot air through the grates, the blue glow of the clock from the cable box, the low-grade hum of all that stuff that’s sucking electricity through the walls.

After de-layering and a quick trip around to turn off lights, the tv, we tried to get back to bed. But that blue glow, that clock we’d gotten used to. It seemed blindingly bright after two nights of dark. Louie yanked the cord.

Life lesson #3:
Unplug things. It’s incredible how hard silence is to come by. Finally, a bit more sleep, then back to normal.

Well, sort of.

Made it into work, and we all shared our own polar vortex stories. Some never lost power, but there were tales of 40 foot felled pines and burst pipes too. I heard someone say driving down College was like driving on the surface of the moon. There were stories of firemen knocking icicles off buildings downtown. Strange days, these.

Wednesday:
First thought upon waking: We still have power! YES!

Life lesson #4:
I am, it seems, not as tough as I like to think, and I’m far more fortunate than I credit.

Today marks the final day of daily blogging for Think Kit. It’s been fun (sometimes – ha!), rewarding and challenging. Miraculously, at the end of it all, there are things about the past year I still haven’t blogged about. I’ll take this as a good sign of a full life.

Today, Think Kit asks what I’m most looking forward to next year, but I’m just not done yet on reflecting on last year. And so, I give you the top ten things I can’t believe I haven’t blogged about yet.

10. Nature can be crazy.
I had never heard of an anvil cloud before (although I think Russell refers to them in the movie “UP.” I spied this very fine specimen on the way to Columbus, Ohio. It was a little unsettling, to say the least. Despite feeling a little nervous (Hey, are we driving into the end times here?) I was mostly in awe of it and the myriad surprises of the natural world.

9. Local Love.
Speaking of Ohio, I got a different take on the local love movement I’ve watched thrive in Indianapolis. We visited Columbus, where Louie’s two siblings live, for a long weekend. There’s something different about visiting a place and staying with residents, rather than doing the hotel thing. We saw signs of Ohio pride and local love at every turn. Locally roasted coffee, distinct neighborhoods, a lively dining scene, signs like the one pictured here. I’m pretty taken with the idea that in cities all across America there are movements like this happening, people falling deeply in love with places. I hadn’t really thought much about that until that visit to Columbus.

8. My bike got stolen. Twice.
The first time, Mayowa and I had our locks cut and bikes taken from the back of the SmallBox building in the middle of the night while we worked on the 24 Hour Web Project. I went and bought a new bike, and two months later, someone entered the SmallBox building during the middle of the day (on a Monday, during regular business hours, with 20 people working nearby!) and stole my new bike from our basement. I’d been parking it inside, thinking that would be safer. I decided I didn’t want to waste a lot of energy complaining about it online, but I have been a bit heartbroken over it still. Writing about it here gives me a bit of closure. When I was searching my 2013 archives, I found this photo of my bike (the white one) parked in the SmallBox lobby with Mayowa’s before they were stolen. The other – well, I hadn’t even taken a photo of it. I’m planning to go bike shopping again this week, so hey – there’s one thing I’m looking forward to in 2014. I wish I didn’t have to do it again, but new bikes are fun, despite unfortunate situations requiring them.

7. I bring all the birds to the yard.
I got some new hummingbird feeders this year, and really enjoyed seeing these little friends from our kitchen window. For Christmas, Louie said he wanted a regular bird feeder to attract birds year round. I was surprised how much fun I had shopping for them. Confession: I ended up with more than one. Okay, okay, So I bought five of them. Did you know there are really a stunning variety of types of bird feeders? Now you know. I’m pretty excited to get them all set up and see new life in the yard.

6. I really want to start a wave.
We went to a lot of baseball games this year. We ate nachos out of a helmet. We watched games in the rain. We saw Mark Prior pitch for the Louisville Bats (we lived in Chicago when he was in his prime with the Cubs, so that was pretty crazy to see). We attended Joe Morgan Day, which included the return of Pete Rose to the baseball field for the first time. And we went to a game in Columbus that had what I can only call (stealing from the Great Pumpkin) the most sincere wave. The people who started this wave were nearby, so we saw it in its humble beginnings, then in full stadium glory. After I snapped this wave action shot of Louie, I knew I had a new goal. I need to start a wave at some point in my life.

5. I fell in love with Broad Ripple Park and the White River.
Jon Rogers and Musical Family Tree headed up a summer music series called Listen Local in Broad Ripple Park. It was a pay-what-you-want benefit for the Parks Foundation. I volunteered at a couple of the shows, but there was plenty of time to just sit back and enjoy the scene too. It was incredibly laid back, sort of pastoral even, to see live music amongst the trees.

As a team perk for SmallBox, we rented the Tiki Barge (who knew this existed?! Amazing.) and cruised down the White River. We also sponsored the inaugural WARM Fest, which was put on it part to return to Broad Ripple’s river roots. Dan Ripley, who spearheaded the whole thing, has some cool old photos and stories of when Broad Ripple was more like Coney Island, with a lively promenade and attractions along the riverfront. I didn’t know much about that history until this year, and I definitely didn’t appreciate Broad Ripple Park and the White River as much as I do now.

4. I met an internet-famous cat.
Mark that down as something I never thought I’d do. Louie and I both sort of fell in love with the magic that is Lil Bub. There was a screening of his movie and a chance to meet Bub in person (in cathood? how does one say that?) in Bloomington on Louie’s birthday. Lest you think we’re totally crazy – there was a lady in line ahead of us who drove six hours (six!) to meet Bub. The line to get in wrapped around the block, then around the next block too, creating a scene even the staffers seemed surprised by. The ushers kept popping out of the theater to snap photos with their cell phones. And this is where is gets weird. As we waited out turn, we watched as people exited the theater. They seem changed, or at least touched by a temporary happy innocence you might associate with children. I heard one person shriek, “I touched her!” It was pretty magical. Here’s Bub getting a break with her owner, right before we got to meet her.

3. I did a 30 day yoga challenge.
I was running 25 miles a week, just starting marathon training, and ramping up for 10 day madness that is Indy Film Fest at the same time. In order to ensure total craziness/test what I’m really made of, I decided to jump in on Cityoga’s 30 Day Challenge, in which you attempt 30 yoga classes in 30 consecutive days. I actually made it, and all I got was this t-shirt! Oh, yeah, and the total peace and calm that comes with all that stretching, practice and patience on the mat. This sort of got overshadowed by my running accomplishments this year, but I’m pretty proud of this too. They do this every June and July, and I’d highly recommend it.

2. Forever Home.
After saving for more than a year, we officially started our house hunt in October. So far we’ve only seen one house that matched all of our criteria and our budget. We may be looking for months to come to find the right one, but Louie and I are pretty set on finding the one, the forever home. We understand that one day life could take us away from Indy, but for now we’re planning on being here for the long haul. And if that’s in the cards, well then we want a house that will be everything we could ever need. Continuing this hunt is what I’m really looking forward to most in the new year. I’m crossing my fingers we’ll find it by March or April.

1. Five years.
Louie and I celebrated five years of marriage this October. We continued one of my favorite traditions of collecting “anniversary art.” We have one piece for each year of marriage. When I saw this Kyle Ragsdale painting, it was love at first sight.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “What are you looking forward to the most about the next 365 days?” + Lifeline prompt: “Make a “Top 10″ for 2013! Choose your favorite moments, records, movies, sporting events, or any other item and compile a list. Make sure there’s a #1!”

I ate out at some fancy places throughout the year, but as the calendar winds down and I think back on it, some of my favorite dinners out were pretty low key, but interesting experiences.

Holly Hock Hill on College Avenue is a must if you like fried chicken. It started out as a private country cottage, where its owners hosted occasional special dinners. 80 years later, they’re still going strong, if a little bit trapped in another time. The female servers wear jumpers from another era, everything is lace and floral. For your leftover fried chicken, they’ll provide the most charming doggie bag.

The fried chicken has a thick, crisp breading, and is served with a “salad” of iceberg lettuce and their house dressing, pickled beets, cottage cheese, a relish tray (whole radishes, baby carrots, celery sticks) and family style bowls of corn, green beans and mashed potatoes and gravy, plus biscuits with apple butter. And the strangest of all things – a small glass of tomato juice. We went with our Supper Club, and as you can see, we had a nice toast with the juice. The dinner is capped off with a single scoop of vanilla ice cream with a trio of sauces – chocolate, butterscotch or an electric green mint.

We went to Mama’s House Korean Restaurant, another Supper Club pick, to try our hands at the grill tables. As we sat down, the chefs came rushing over with flaming coals to start our grill. It seemed edgy, dangerous to see those hot coals flash over our shoulders, into the pits. It’s a lot of work, and even a little smoky to grill your own meat table side, but it’s definitely a unique and fun experience.

The best part of this meal was we really didn’t know what each side dish was, so every bite felt like a bit of an adventure. I still don’t know what all we ate, but no matter. It was all tasty.

In a visit home to Evansville, we took a detour to check out a place I’d been hearing about for years – Bon Ton Mini Mart. Their fried chicken has been raved about by everyone from the New York Times, to the Travel Channel, to my own mother, who makes pretty amazing fried chicken herself. With an unassuming facade, an ac box hanging out of the window and a rough gravel drive, you’d never want to venture in based on looks alone. Inside, mismatched dining furniture and an odd assortment of roosters.

It’s all a part of the experience though, and besides, the fried chicken is the real deal. Served piping hot, the chicken is extra crispy, juicy and salty, and has a bit of a kick from cayenne pepper. It’s sort of an assault on your mouth, but in a good way. The ice box lemon pie was out of this world. Our server, and the daughter of the owner said, “Nobody makes pie like my mama.”

The North Market in Columbus, Ohio is chock full of delicious. We walked through slowly, and ate our way through the market. On our first trip, I was too stuffed by the time we made it to Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams, but I decided we had to go back a second time. I’d had Jeni’s before, but I’d spied these macaron ice cream sandwiches in their display case and couldn’t get it out of my mind. It was definitely worth the second trip. Consider yourself warned – it’s big enough to split, even for those with a big sweet tooth.

Locally Grown Gardens has become that place I go back to more than any other – an especially impressive feat, since they only have a few items on the menu, but still keep me coming back. Coming in at less than $13, this platter of grilled salmon with cole slaw is one of the best values I’ve found in Indy. For less than ten bucks, you can get what I can only all an intimidating mound of smoked pork on a thick slice of bread smothered in BBQ sauce.

This is not the place to go if you want fancy service. It’s best to go on a nice night when you can sit on one of the giant wooden tables outside and watch people go by on the Monon Trail. Or, if you can go on a rainy night, sit in the library with the candles lit. Once at dinner we got to do just that, and watch the storm rage on through the window.

And don’t even think about walking out of there without a slice of sugar cream pie. Or, better yet, buy a whole pie and take the rest home.

Note: I know the prompt called for one meal. I couldn’t pick just one. it’s amazing I was able to narrow it down as much as I did!

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Lifeline prompt: “Did you eat an amazing meal this year? What did you eat? Who was with you?”

There doesn’t seem to be much story to this photo – just my feet, and a thin dusting of snow. It was Thanksgiving, before everyone gathered for the big meal. The dogs would do better with all of the excitement, I thought, if I got them out for a quick walk. It wasn’t for me, so I thought.

We walked, and it was cold, and the sun was out. The sky seemed white and sharp. The dogs, they sniffed, we ran a few blocks down the suburban streets, then walked some more til they tired out. I breathed deep, we stopped a moment. A stillness. Peace and calm.

I hadn’t been looking, didn’t know I needed it then. This unexpected moment of quiet content.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Share a photo from your year that highlights giving, thankfulness, traditions, or finding peace.”

I am grateful for this day, a singular day that can never be exactly repeated. I am grateful for this bright blue sky, and a brisk walk along the Ohio River. A chance meeting with an old neighbor. A deep nap. For chopping cauliflower to roast with capers and sage. For dancing and singing while cooking with my mom in her kitchen.

I started an inventory of gratefulness, thinking about the sum of this past year. As I compiled a mental list, I realized, with a full heart, that this is a list which I cannot finish. The scope of another year on this earth is simply too overwhelming to quantify neatly.

I am grateful for another full year of days, that just like this one, is full of moments and thoughts particular to a time and place. I am grateful for reflecting on this year – the good, the bad and the in-between. For soaking it all in and realizing, again, as deeply as ever, to not take one day for granted.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “What are you grateful for this year?”

 

I have a slight obsession with the things that get handed down from one generation to the next. Of all the possessions that pass through our lives, some get that special status of keepsake. When I visit my parents’ house, I wander back to the heirlooms, the things someone in my family cherished, kept safe. I want to know their stories. Who did this belong to? Where did it come from?

In the hall by the front door, there’s a cabinet of tiny treasures. These little figurines have been winking at me since I was a kid, moving from one house, to the next.

The green glass toothpick holder belonged to my great-grandmother, Tylene Elizabeth Dunning a.k.a. Mimi. My mom says she was very particular about it, wouldn’t let anyone touch it. She was so afraid it might get broken.

I have a grainy image of Mimi in my mind, probably from photos I’ve seen rather than memory (she died when I was three years old). I imagine her gasping, watching me take her beloved toothpick holder out of the china cabinet, taking photos of it with my phone. The tea set was Mimi’s too – my great uncle brought it back to her when he was in the army in Germany.

The little lady above belonged to my great-great grandmother, Ina Prince. The stamp on the bottom, a relic from a world I can’t imagine. Made in Occupied Japan. Ina lived in Lamasco, Kentucky, in a house without indoor plumbing. It’s hard for me to picture this fancy figurine in her country house – she kept a chicken coop, farmed. But Ina did have a parlor with a piano. My mom says no one spent any time in there. Everyone worked and talked in her big country kitchen.

I was born on my grandfather, Guy Griffith Jr.’s birthday. This tin was his easter basket as a boy. Later, he scrawled the word “hooks” into the top. He loved to fish.

The older of these two Bibles, the one from 1897 with the flowery scrolls, belonged to my great-grandfather, Floyd Bee Dunning, a.k.a. Beezer. He was a railroad man, and his work brought the family from Kentucky to Indiana. The Bible with the plain front cover was given to Guy Jr. at Sunday school in 1927. Maybe I get my inclinations to doodle from my grandpa? I love his little sketches hidden in the pages.

One last treasure (I could go on forever diving into these stories, but this is the last one for tonight). My mom’s favorite Christmas ornament from her childhood.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Look at your surroundings as if you’re seeing them for the first time – take a walk in your ‘hood, explore your basement, or visit a favorite spot. What do you notice?”

 

If I had to guess, I’d say I’ve spent an extra 2-3 hours facing the screen this month. Between daily writing and trying like mad to keep up with reading posts from the Think Kit community, I’m beginning to feel like I’ve baked my brain with the electromagnetic waves seeping from my laptop.

I’d been thinking off and on throughout the day about this question. If money, time or other commitments were no obstacle, what would I do? I faced a blank screen. For, like, a really long time. Stalled. Empty. Shouldn’t dreaming big be the easiest thing to run with? Think, think, think.

Well, I guess I’d travel more. I’d not get so tired. I’d always have the space for daily making. Is my brain really that taxed that this is all I got?

Maybe it is actually this: as I struggled to choose something big and undoable, I realized that much of what I want out of life is already within my reach. The life I’ve built has grown closer to the one I imagined. I don’t have it all figured out, and I don’t lead some charmed, silver spoon existence. But I’m pretty… content.

This, a lucky place to be.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s Prompt: “If money, time or other commitments were no obstacle in 2014, what would you do?”