"I am such a bad ass"

Dear 29,
You've outdone yourself, 29. We have barely had the chance to get acquainted (I mean it has just now been a week) and already you've thrilled me. At the risk of sounding overly sappy, I am surrounded by the most incredible people. They are brilliant and creative and thoughtful and truly kind. If these first 7 days of 29 are any indication of how the other 358 will go-- I'm in for one of the best years yet.

You must try this cake. Cache Birthday Cake @ Americana. So. Good.

The list has been published, posted on Facebook (which obviously makes it legit), printed on a tshirt (thanks Sara) and clearly studied by those around me. My sweet friend Jami proved that on Friday night when she arranged for me to RIDE A MOTORCYCLE. (Note the use of all-caps. That nearly never happens on this blog so it must have been pretty bigtime.)

While on the back of a very rumbly motorcycle I managed to ask a lot of questions (gears are in fact shifted using your foot), scream like a child and shout "I am such a bad ass" with my voice quivering. (Thank you to Jami's kind and good looking friends for putting up with all that and making #21 happen) I found myself glancing over at other motorcyclists throughout the rest of my weekend, from the safe confines of my trusty Honda, and nodding as though I'm one of them now. Apparently a 15 block ride on a bike has made me think I am part of the secret league of bad asses.

THANKS Jami!

I would have settled with just one night of awesome, but instead, my seven day birthday weekend was filled with special events: grilled pizzas, garlic scapes, a pretty serious Bobby Brown dance party at a bbq fest, lots of confetti, a brutal UFC fight (that I just watched, despite what Pete taught me), at least 4 naps, several compliments on a dress Janer nearly gave to goodwill... and that was just on Saturday.

Oh and a butterfly landed on my head.

After a day of pool sitting on Sunday (ok two hours of pool sitting, where I managed to land my first awkward sunburn of the season), I spent an evening on a farm eating ribs, learning about vegetable farming and sneaking many bites of the most delicious macaroni casserole. There were hayrack rides and the coolest man I know with a ponytail. Larry sang Johnny Cash and opened up his home to Des Moines' fancy food folk and we regular people. I can't wait to go back.

(photo credit to Adrienne. this is one of the many awesome shots she took that evening- hire her)

(Thanks for letting me give you the full and overly detailed play-by-play of my first week of a new year. I'm sure this is exciting to read.)

But while the weekend had many, the biggest highlight was celebrating my 2-9 on the Stoop with my sister Kate and a whole bunch of fun DSM friends. There was a root beer float bar, a vodka lemonade stand and so many rainbows. (and the motorcycle ride, Mr. Lidgett, lots of new bourbon varietals, sparklers, Mrs. Chase and a super tasty cake, oh and a Robert Palmer record)

29, you really have outdone yourself. And all you brilliant and creative and thoughtful and truly kind people- you have too. Thanks for an spectacular kick off of year 29.
xo-LP

Two. Nine.

Dear 29,
I am so glad you are here.

A new list. A new year.
xo-LP

Dear 28.

Dear 28,
I'll only be writing you this one last time. Tomorrow I start dedicating my letters and my new list to a new year: 29. This practice, the list making, has pushed me to learn all kinds of new things. Back when I made my list for year 23 (the first birthday I celebrated here in Des Moines), I had far different goals.

There are many things on this list I've since accomplished ("Learn the streets of downtown Des Moines" makes me laugh) and there are things on this list I wouldn't dream of doing these days (Tonic? Really 23-year-old LP? Tonic?) In year 28 I might not have scratched off each number on the list, but I sure enjoyed these last twelve months. Like in year 27, this blog (and all of you) pushed me to do some things I didn't think I could, to celebrate some things that might have gone unnoticed and to ask so many questions about everything. I learned a lot-- more about myself than anything else.

I made pasta with a real Italian chef and snuck wine into the Meredith test gardens. I went to prom again. I performed in a band (and then spoke of my tambourine prowess for many months after). I worked out with MMA fighters. I had all three of my beautiful sisters in Des Moines. I moved to a new and improved home where I can use a dishwasher, run central air and stoop. I met Ron, the Red Velvet girls and shared fried chicken with my dear friend. I learned a truly invaluable skill: the Lidgett pose.

I slow danced in a townie bar. I joined a cover band that has since performed thrice-ish. I learned the definition of magic from a bartender. I slept on a riverboat after being rocked by the Head and the Heart. Good golly I got a new car. I fell in love with September and cursed March. I had an art show. I wore a crown more than once. I met four artists who showed their work at the Des Moines Art Center. I rewrote an Adele song while wearing a pizza beret. I made Coq Au Vin. I saw Chicago from the Hancock Building.

I went on a hike. I watched Nebraska beat my Hawks. I ran two races without being chased. I drew naked people. I was on the front page of the Des Moines Register. I met a bunch of new and incredible people. I danced. I danced a lot. I cooked my first turkey (that I won in my first euchre tournament). I was introduced to the Bertha Butt Boogie. I took a lot of B12. I sold over 650 postcards.
This list would have shocked my 23-year-old self... or exhausted me. But today it makes me proud.
Thanks for being part of what turned out to be a pretty spectacular year. 28 was really great.
xo-LP

7.5 hours left.

Dear 28,
I started my seven-day-birthday-weekend with 9 list items still left uncrossed. (Left uncrossed? Is that right?) But with only 7.5 hours left in 28 I've made the most of today. I did not read 7 additional books, but I did hit the Bell Center with Emily to shoot 4 free throws. (Pause for baby Jack)

(Seriously. So cute.)

I've always been a mediocre free throw shooter. Once though, at a summer basketball camp back in 1990something I did win the free throw shooting competition. Jeff Tank asked the other girls (as they watched me sink shot after shot--this is how I remember it. And I was undoubtedly wearing tall socks) "what do you notice about Laura's form?" Kate White (I hope you read this Kate- I still laugh about this day and the fact that of all the things I could remember about 5 years of playing basketball, this stands out) responded "she sticks out her tongue a lot."

I watched "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" to finally cross off #3. There will be no camping, at least not this year, unless I sleep outside Hoyt Sherman tonight. There won't be a skating party unless Anthony loans me his rollerblades and six other people meet me somewhere that has a rink (7 people constitutes a party). But there might still be time to Slip n Slide...
xo-LP

Making my case.

Dear 28,
As we close in on 29, I am being realistic about what can and will be done about the list. 10 items are left unfinished (Which means I've currently completed 64% of the list. Sometimes I do math.)
In the next 6 days I'll be able to cross off a few more, but let me first make my case.
12. Build something
When I made this list I left a couple items just vague enough for interpretation. You may have noticed "conquer a fear" has been crossed out and yet I haven't written about it, but trust me, I've been conquering. But with "Build Something" I feel like I need to fully explain myself. No I didn't saw off a branch from a fallen tree in Sherman Hill after the big storm in April and piece together a glider for the stoop with this reclaimed wood. No I didn't refinish my cabinet doors (seriously people-who-I-rent-from, I didn't) and make them all cool with chalkboard paint so I can display the menu at cafeteria themed dinner parties (recently I bought old lunchroom trays so a cafeteria themed dinner party is in my near future). I might not have physically built anything (not even the drawer pictured below) but what I have built-- a business.

Initially I was reluctant to call it this word: business. I mean, I make postcards, have an etsy site, all that crafty stuff, but this year I nearly went #allin. I now have cards at 3 retail locations in the Metro (Cache Bake Shoppe, Francy Pants and Ephemera-- all businesses owned by terrific women. Go shop at all of them.)

I've done about ten custom jobs, held a holiday card party, and sold at the East Village Bazaar, twice. I even had a postcard art show in January. I'm in the process of trying to "diversify my product" which is business talk for "make some other stuff." That's nearly #allin. I'd say all this constitutes a business. So would my accountant. So I'm crossing it off. This year I built something. 

22. Visit a monument
When I googled "Monuments in Iowa," lots of places that create tombstones popped up but also lists of landmarks in Iowa. According to my google search, a monument and a landmark are basically the same thing. I declare that I have visited a monument this year. Google knows everything. (Congratulations on the big graduation Kate! Not only am I so proud of you, but I was also able to cross off a list item while visiting you in our city for the weekend. Thanks for the bonus.)

Now I'm up to 71% complete. 
(If these percentages are totally wrong, I blame the Theory and Practice of Argument- the college class I took to get out of a math class. Terrible mistake.)
xo-LP

Let's get serious about this now.

Dear 28,
Days away from 29 and I'm doing the usual pre-birthday-overly-reflective bit that simultaneously depresses and excites me. So I'm not going to get an email from Rob Sheffield (if you are reading this Mr. Rob Sheffield, please know I totally want you to send me a note. You're the best of writers. I'm even reading your book again. The one you signed for me. Thanks again for that.), I did do a whole lot of awesome things this year. Sure there were disappointments and some bummers, but I survived, hell I succeeded in this 28th year. 

Around this time last year I asked some weirdly personal questions on this blog. When I started to write this post I figured it would be another sappy one-- you know, too personal, too "my life is so average" and too many embarrassing photos of myself. Now that I've scoured the photo archives (and my facebook timeline, obviously) I realize this year hasn't been average at all and that all those questions from last year have answers. And there are far less ridiculous photos of me...well maybe a few less.

With about a week left in 28 I have some work to do. So Mr. Rob Sheffield now is the time.
xo-LP

The hydrologic system right here in a plastic bottle.

Dear 28,
Tony Feher is full of wisdom. In the class he "taught" last night (it was more of a conversation about art that ended with Tony sticking tiny sword picks into the top of a Starbucks cup and giving me this piece of art) I learned all kinds of things including: Art making takes a whole lot of hard work and that Tony Feher kept a note I wrote to him (sigh).

Thanks Des Moines Art Center for giving me yet another opportunity to meet and mingle with an incredible artist.
xo-LP

Sidenotes:
1- Yes that is a "gods eye" made of easter basket grass tied together and straws. And yes I did make it for Tony Feher.
2- Yes that is a gin and tonic that Tony Feher mixed up for me. 
3- Why yes, that is a photo taken with my new iphone and yes you can expect photos to be better now that I own it. You are welcome.

4:02.99 vs 10:27.00

Dear 28,
Remember when Jenni and I trained to run a 5k way back in year 27? We had the best of intentions, even ran miles in the pre-dawn mornings. But the race never happened. 
We learned a lot. For example:
- 9 year old boys and 62 year old women run faster than you.
- You and Jenni will always dress alike even at 7am.
- Hand holding, fist pumping and pointing to the sky will get the crowd revved up as you cross the finish line.

So when I sent Jenni a note about registering for the Grand Blue Mile and she agreed to sign up and we agreed to pick up packets (on time) and showed up wearing the same color shorts, I knew this time, we'd run the race. 

We lined up in a sea of runners on Locust full of jitters, the gun went off and we giggled for that first 1/2 mile, laughing at the children, man in a lion costume and other real runners passing us along the route. The laughs faded mid-mile (yes. A mile makes me tired. Guess I should run more.)

The goal was to finish in time for happy hour. And 10:27.00 later we crossed that finish line. We did have kids and old ladies finish ahead of us. We did indeed dress alike. We danced across the finish line, watched people fist pump and the fastest man in Des Moines (at least in Des Moines for the day) finished in 4:02.99. But we finished. I had a side ache and watched a small boy finish stronger than I did, but we did it. Jenni's first race and my second race in a month- done. Now for another one.
xo-LP

There's a Norman Rockwell book surplus.

Dear 28,
The new moon came and went. According to the astrologyzone people, this new moon was to be sweet, oh and will set off a "whole change of mood to the month." That new moon will be "bringing it from serious to sensational." I can't wait to have April get all sensational. 
Over the course of last week and the passing weekend I drew a nude with crayons, adventured to the east to buy used books, and saw Congressman Leonard Boswell pump his own gas like an everyday Iowan (This is not an endorsement, although Leonard does clearly endorse himself. He has his own campaign sticker on his truck or maybe he uses it as a label, who knows). 

Photo credit to Sara, part time paparazzi.

I made several keen, yet not-well-researched observations throughout the newly mooned weekend. ("Newly mooned" is not a phrase I'd use without referencing something lunar.) I wouldn't say many of these are worth sharing, but I find them interesting, so let's do this.
1. Leonard Boswell buys the Des Moines Register on Saturdays. FYI.
2. At the Planned Parenthood book sale you can find anything. You want to read a biography of Hillary Clinton  pre-Secretary of State stardom? They have it. You lost your copy of The Giver back in 1998 and need a new one? They have it. You want a book called An Important List of Words? They have it. Seriously. You want 8 different Andy Williams records. THEY HAVE IT. 

3. Norman Rockwell books used to be in every home in America. Judging by the number of Norman Rockwell books at the book sale, they only used to be in people's homes. (Googling "the decreasing popularity of Norman Rockwell" doesn't get you much information on just why there seem to be a surplus of the man's books that people do not want anymore. So don't start there if you want to get to the bottom of this.) I'll get back to you when I draw my own intelligent conclusions.
4. Someone would rather be kissing Laura. 

5. There are lots of German speaking talented artists in Des Moines. (I'm really sorry if it wasn't German they were speaking. It felt like German, even though I personally don't speak German.) Also- you should definitely go to Drink and Draw. 

6. Michael Kimmelman told me Germans love the Wild West. This is the most I have ever referenced the Germans on this blog.

So much knowledge for just one week. 

I'm running another race this week. This time it's one mile. I think two races in three weeks makes me almost seem like a runner, but please don't get that impression.

Now, off to further research this Norman Rockwell thing. 

xo-LP

The day I ran a 5k.

Dear 28,
I found myself willing it to thunderstorm at about 6am. I hadn't trained for 3.1 miles. I hadn't even picked out what I was going to wear to run the race. I hadn't thought about goal mile times. I hadn't really done anything but sign up. And now the day was upon me, so I took the first step: I got out of bed.

At one point in life I was a runner of the serious kind. It should be mentioned that I was in high school, but still, I was a runner. In the 8th grade Mr. Brown (my Muskie friends will cringe at the mention of this man's name) convinced me I should join the track team, so I put on the polyester green shorts and a CMS t-shirt and practiced on the cinder track behind my parents' house. The first race I ever ran, I anchored the 4x200 meter relay. We were on pace to beat the record and about 10 meters from the finish line, I fell face first on the track. I can still hear the collective gasp the crowd let out (it was terrible). Surprisingly I continued to run track after that. We even went to the Junior High Championships. (Be impressed.) By the time 1998 rolled around, I celebrated my 15th birthday in Drake Stadium at the Iowa High School Girl's State Track Meet- I liked to run. In the years that followed I hyperventilated after running my one and only 400 meter dash, which meant I had a supply of brown paper bags with me at every meet and I managed to never fall in a race again.

Even back in 1990. (This photo should embarrass me. In case you weren't sure, the kid that looks like a young man, that's me.) I threw on some serious jorts and my best glasses and hit the pavement for the Watermelon Stampede. Here we are 22 years later (whoa. that's absurd) and I'm worried about what to wear to the race...

Chelsea was in far better spirits than I- she even made me some oatmeal and loaned me a pair of shorts. Eventually we checked in, so this race was officially happening. We stretched out with the rest of the runners, listened to the man with the orange microphone make announcements and, the best part, had the girl in front of us inform me that "some of my friends are real runners and they say this is, like, the hardest 5k they've ever done." Shortly after that the gun went off and we slogged forward. It was clear at the 1 mile mark that my training regiment had failed me (not drinking for a week and eating additional carbs is apparently not all you have to do to be race ready) and by the 1.5 mark, after passing someone else's unfortunate breakfast upchuck, I felt like I could do the same.

(Chase documented our race. Thanks Chase.)

Good thing my terrific race partner kept me motivated. (I'm skipping over the parts where I said "is it over yet" or "why did I sign up for this?" or "running. ew.") The last leg of the race Chels unplugged the headphones and we ran to the beats of David Guetta. As we got close to the finish line we were welcomed by the Isiserettes, which gave me just the motivation I needed to dance-run my way to completing the 5k. There's no way I could have done it without you Chels.

So I didn't run the entire thing (feels good to tell the truth) but I finished and, oddly, am ready to do it again. Maybe I'm still a runner after all these years of couch sitting. The next race I'll be ready for.
And, unlike in 1990, I got to celebrate post-race with a margarita and a nap.
xo- LP