first snow

After spending Christmas in Georgia and Florida, we came back home to a winter wonderland and Gabby had her first taste of winter in Indiana. Here's a quick video... she's wearing a little dog blanket that my mom loaned us—it used to belong to our family dog, growing up in New Hampshire. It's a bit big on her, but she's just 9 months old so she might grow into it.

Needless to say, she loves the snow (eating it and sprinting through it).

super week in naptown

For the past 10 days, the Super Bowl has been all that any of us here in Indy could talk about. I kid you not. I can't tell you how many times I heard or uttered the following...


Have you ridden the zip line?
Have you seen the line for Jimmy Fallon?
Did you hear Jimmy Fallon ate at Mug-n-Bun?
Where are you gonna park?
Did you hear Ryan Gosling was at Kilroy's downtown last night?
Did you hear Ryan Gosling was in Broad Ripple last night?
Are you going to the NFL Experience? Media Day? the Super Bowl Village? the NFL Honors Awards show? the DirecTV Beach Bowl? the GQ party? the Playboy party? the LMFAO concert? the OAR concert? the Sixpence None the Richer concert? the Snoop Dogg and Nelly concert?
We saw Jerry Rice!
We saw Drew Brees!
We ALMOST saw Jimmy Fallon!


The city was ecstatic about hosting the Super Bowl, and people were so PROUD. There were more than 9,000 volunteers, and each and every one of them had a hand-knit scarf from a Hoosier (that's what they call a person from Indiana, for all the non-Hoosiers). 


It was just heartwarming to see so many people who care so deeply about their hometown, going out of their way to make people feel welcome. That's not something you see every day. Or every year. And right about now—especially with this warm streak we're having—I feel pretty lucky to live here.

super bowl starts now

You know how hard it is to concentrate on an average Friday afternoon. What makes it harder is when there's a Super Bowl party happening right outside your office. If the bass was any louder, my desk would be shaking.

resolutions schmesolutions

Folks, it's a frosty -1 degrees with the wind chill. Or is it -1 degree (singular), since there aren't multiple degrees to be found? Regardless, it's freaking cold. And this is our street right now, covered in a fine layer of white.

The internet here at our house has been touch-and-go since mid December, hence why my 12 Days of Christmas series ended almost before it began. Oh well. It's fixed now, the new year is here, and we're moving on.

This is the part where I announce a resolution to write more in 2012. Or is it?

In 2008, I wrote 55 posts. In 2011, only 24. In my own defense, I also lived by myself back then. I probably spent more time in front of my computer, whereas now I spend more time curled up in front of the TV with Ryan. But can you blame me? It's cold, and he's warm (and cute).

Anyway. I also blog less these days because I think too hard about trying to write something great instead of just writing... whatever. Random shit. Like this—check out this necklace I bought last weekend. I thought it was super cute and then halfway through the day I realized I kind of looked like Mr. T. 

Yep. There it is. 2012. Boom.

slip sliding away

This was last Wednesday... unfortunately, the driveway doesn't look much different now. And yes, I almost fell twice in the process of filming this.

un•shovel•able

I've finally discover Indy's Achilles heel... ICE. We were housebound today as the city slept under 1+ inches of it.

snowy crossing

One premature turn this evening landed me in front of these tracks, red light blinking like Rudolph's nose through the snow, but no train in sight.

I stopped and waited. Then the train came clacking along... and along... and along. Long enough for me to pause, take a photo, a few deep breaths, and to remember the few beautiful little things I can appreciate about winter in Indiana.

Zero Holding, by Robyn Sarah
I grow to like the bare
trees and the snow, the bones and fur
of winter. Even the greyness
of the nunneries, they are so grey,
walled all around with grey stones —
and the snow piled up on ledges
of wall and sill, those grey
planes for holding snow: this is how
it will be, months now, all so still,
sunk in itself, only the cold alive,
vibrant, like a wire — and all the
busy chimneys — their ghost-breath,
a rumour of lives warmed within,
rising, rising, and blowing away.

how i ruined my triathlon training

One corn dog, with ketchup and mustard. One ear of corn, drenched in butter.

One donut burger (a beef patty in between two Krispy Kremes).

One ride on the Sizzler. Three deep-fried Oreos. Thank you, Indiana State Fair.

holy manure

You know that exchange when someone says, "God! this smells awful — smell it!" And then you feel compelled to smell it, not because you'll enjoy it but just because you have to know for yourself, just how bad is it?

Well, I imagine that's what everyone in Winchester, Indiana is thinking:

Giant Gas Bubbles in Indiana Dairy Farm's Waste Pond Frighten Neighbors

in bloom

My first March in Indiana, and the first sign of spring has appeared alongside the driveway. Visible proof of change.

Then there’s invisible change — the kind that’s harder to understand, to accept, to process. Change that I’ve been ignoring since August — which is the simple fact that this is my new “home.”

All winter, I’ve been busy trying to ignore that fact. Busy pretending that I’m living some parallel life to the one I left behind, and that everything in Atlanta is exactly as I left it. Telling myself that, if I chose to, I could return and pick up where I left off. When the obvious truth is that life moves on, whether or not you're ready for it.

But spring is made for new beginnings, right? The snow has melted and my down jacket has been retired for the season. Warm weather and sunshine are creeping closer. Ryan gave me these beautiful little roses. All reasons to smile today.

thank goodness for good neighbors

Snow today. Lots of it, at least by my standards. But not enough to cancel school, therefore, not enough for me to stay off the road. So the little two-wheel drive Volvo fishtailed its way around every corner of the morning commute, clearly freaking out as much as its driver.

But the real fun arrived on my way home from work. That's when I got stuck — in my own driveway, at bottom of the smallest hill you've ever seen. I can't even call it a hill actually, it's more like a tiny three foot slope. By the time I trudged up to the garage for a shovel and back, my neighbor Jerry was waiting at the bottom.

"You stuck?"

Then another neighbor from across the street, Tony, arrived with his snow blower. And then our next-door neighbor Susan walked over.

Tony cleared out the driveway while Jerry and I shoveled the sidewalks. Susan's golden retriever Abby, who apparently loves the snow, frolicked around the yard like the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. And just like that, a very crappy situation was made infinitely better thanks to a few good neighbors.

procrastination

Back in sunny September it seemed like a good idea to unpack a box, and then chuck it in the garage.

Yesterday morning, after scraping frost off of my car for eight minutes, it didn't seem like such a good idea. I couldn't feel my hands. It was 22 degrees. Sadly, by Indiana standards, that isn't even cold. And since I'll be happily rejoining the workforce starting Monday — after a five month "transition" period — I'm running out of days to put this off until.

The boxes must go. Today.

two rooms so far

By popular demand, here are a few house photos (if three requests qualifies as "popular demand"). We moved in about two months ago. Still have a laundry-list of things to fix, buy, hang, paint, etc. — but as Ryan says, "that's what the winter is for."

two beauties

Right now I can't get enough of the trees around our neighborhood. I find any excuse I can to walk (or drive) around and gawk. Love the fall.

On a bizarre related note, I got a notice in the mail a few days ago that read:
"Each household is permitted to place up to 40 bags of leaves weekly for disposal."

Naturally, I'm wondering A) who has enough leaves to fill 40 bags each week? and B) can you imagine the holy mother-load pile you could rake up if you put all of those together?

home

Here it is! Our cozy little 1939 abode. Interior photos will come at a later date, when we swap cardboard boxes for actual furniture.

life without the "stuff"

After living out of a suitcase for four weeks, I've graduated to living out of boxes. I have my clothes, a nightstand, a dresser, a filing cabinet and my computer. It feels a bit Spartan. I think I could get used to it.

I've confiscated this sunny nook in Ryan's apartment (technically "our" apartment but it still feels like "his"), where I set up a small workspace overlooking Meridian Street. Perfect for people watching and sharing the neighbor's internet. This is day nine in Indy.















Number of Colts games attended: 1
Number of times I've gotten lost: 2
Number of times I've cried: 2
Number of state fairs attended: 1
Number of red lights accidentally run: 1
Number of antique shops visited: 3
Number of mules fed (at an antique shop): 1

For the past week, I kept thinking I need to write about this... and I kept procrastinating. When everything is new, I find that everything is worth writing about. And since that would be impossibly overwhelming, I've just avoided it.

Plus, I've been busy ignoring certain realities (like how much I will miss my old life), and distracting myself with other things. Things like: finding a job, trying new recipes, making lots of to-do lists, running, driving in circles, watching Real Housewives ATL with Ryan (and finally talking to him without a cell phone), etc.

All the while, I'm sure there's some tepid pool of emotion lurking right under the surface, just waiting for me to slow down. And when I do, it will surely catch up with me. Sigh.

dear facebook,

Thanks for the oh-so-subtle reminder...






This is my current view from Starbucks, across the street from the new digs, where I just laid down four precious dollars for two measly hours of internet. Whatever, I'll mark it down on my budget spreadsheet as "research."

















Things are good so far... I've unpacked a few boxes at the apartment. Still feels like I'm just visiting for the weekend though, and I'm wondering how long it will take to feel permanent. The Penske truck is still loaded up and I'm waiting for Ryan to get back from work, so we can move it all into storage. Hooray for heavy lifting!

from georgia, to georgia street

This is Ryan's new home (on the left): the Harness Factory Lofts in downtown Indy. Ironically enough, his address is 30 E. Georgia Street. The building to the right is the Conseco Fieldhouse, a sports/event arena. The other photo is the view from our apartment, on the sixth floor, on the other side of the building.

Here's a video tour of the new digs — it's a bit messy because he'd only moved in two days earlier.