A perfection of thought.

Dear 29,

I think it's officially summertime. I mean, not "officially" according to the calendar (maybe it is officially according to the calendar... when I started this post, like three weeks ago, it wasn't), but according to the way my hair frizzes up and the number of freckles across my face, it's official. Since writing that post, you know the one where I called myself a bad ass, I've certainly soaked up a whole bunch of summerness (hence the exponential increase of freckles.) Wallace Stevens felt pretty great about summer nights, as did the cast of Grease. Currently so do I.

June has been a blur of awesome. (Pause for damn cute baby break. Yes I did get him that shirt. And yes I am his favorite fake aunt.) So much good has happened in this first summer month. So much good that I've referred to it as the summer of Laura. Conceited? (Maybe.) A bigtime funtime? (Absolutely.)

I'm still obsessed with the #stoopgarden. So there's that. But I don't need to write two entire posts on it... (You should expect to see another post about it soon.)

Not only did I get to see my first itty bitty tomato plant bud, but Will and I also got to watch men dance in tutus during Billy Elliott. I think I'll raise my child to be a star on Broadway. I mean the kid who played Billy was charming and talented, had comedic timing (something my Broadway bound child could teach me) and only has to perform like once a week or something. The kid learns about sharing the spotlight with two other Billy kid stars: valuable life lessons. And then my kid would be more talented than everyone else's and I'd get great seats in the Civic Center, and probably discounts on something. I suppose I run the risk of being an overbearing stage mother, but that's better than an overbearing science fair mother. For the record, I am not pregnant and until typing this post I hadn't ever considered a Broadway baby. So let's move on. (this is the second reference to a child in this post)

I'm afraid this is going to be extraordinarily long if I include all the fun parts of June, but in an effort to prove just how "bigtime funtime" year 29 has been thus far, I will continue. I bought someone else's serving platter (Erica the entomologist) and watched Gretchen haggle during a marathon morning of garage sale-ing. Word of caution: garage sale signage can lie to you. If it says "super awesome" it's probably above average. And there will likely be a box of cat statues on a card table. You'll want to buy one, resist that urge. You will also find tables of romance novels with cracked spines. When you walk by the woman hosting the garage sale, you'll blush knowing she read them all and then blush because you read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. (More on that in an upcoming post. Judge away though. I can handle it.) But do feel free to buy baby clothes for your friend who has no babies. Third child reference in this post. Many years from now Rocky will thank me and I will become his favorite fake aunt (fine Chels. We can be co-favorites.)

Unrelated photo: This is delicious.
VitaCoco you've outdone yourself.

This month I ate a cornichon, which is actually a pickle. I know, I'm surprised too. What's more surprising, I liked it. I served as a bouncer for a VIP lounge. This is actually true and I was good at it. Sort of. I saw a baseball game at noontime. There are a lot of people who go to noontime baseball games. There are enough people who go to noontime baseball games to cause traffic jams.

The man in the spongebob biker shirt thing in this photo had a daughter with him wearing the same outfit. 

I got to see the Wildcat and Jane, which was awesome. We talked about why kids play in fountains at baseball games. Fountains are not wading pools, FYI. We also went to see the Mural (you should go too if you have yet to get there. Only up until July 15th) and Wildcat pointed out that it's "surprisingly symmetrical." I come from an arty family, we basically speak in art critic jargon all the time. (that's only half true).

I rode a bike for the first time in ten years. This sounds like an exaggerated statement, but I'm pretty sure it's accurate. I did yoga in a park. I saw a man get arrested outside the stoop in the rain. I had my first Jasper sangria of the season. And I got my photo taken in a tshirt (which isn't at all like modeling).
Summer of Laura.
Oh, did I mention I got a new job?
xo-LP

#stoopgarden

Dear 29,
The stoop has served many a purpose: place to eat breakfast once, place to watch me ride a motorcycle, place to get iced, place to witness a girl hit my car with a stick, place a child will fall down a couple steps, (then place where you gasp and feel super awful), place were sparklers are put once they stop sparkling, place to tie balloons too, place to store a shovel, place where people probably sit while I'm not around, etc.

But this summer (the first full summer of stoopin) it is playing host to a bitty garden. It started small- a couple tiny plants spontaneously purchased at the Urbandale* Home Depot. I even popped for a tomato plant. I'm not sure if it was the Cleverley Farms adventure over Memorial Day weekend, or the fresh suburban air, but I felt suddenly blessed with a hopeful green thumb and a tomato plant, some soil and three tiny herb sprouts came home with me in the Honda that day.

And now, this #stoopgarden has grown (pun intended) into an obsession. I've checked out books about container gardens, I've googled herb planters, and have spent hours trying to figure out just why parsley doesn't grow as quickly, or greenly, as basil. Two metal Ikea pots just wasn't enough. I browsed the Earl May the following day, picking up pamphlets on strawberry bushes (I think they are bushes?) and read all the labels on plant foods. Then I splurged on a pre-planted herb garden that included spicy globe basil. (still don't really understand what makes this stuff special)

So the #stoopgarden grew again. I also took a liking to weekend sun-tea blends- seemed very garden-person-like. After a little more research I decided to re-pot (boom. gardener jargon*) my thriving tomato plant. Containers for the #stoopgarden aren't cheap, at least not the pretty ones. But we aren't all about the fancy here in Sherman Hill, so my on-sale-target-plastic thing did the trick and suddenly grit got real. (laugh. it's ok. that was funny.)

I'm still thinking about planting a strawberry bush/vine but better do a little more research on what the strawberries grow on before planting them. I am really trying to figure out just why the pre-potted herb garden is less green, and trying to find a way to keep thyme from standing still, but other than that- we've got a real little garden on our hands.
Don't worry. I'll keep you updated on every bloomin thing.
And yes, gardening jokes are awesome.
xo-LP

*Sometimes I go to Urbandale. At least I think that place is considered to be in Urbandale.

"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