Home for the Holidays II

So, do you remember a few months ago when I promised that I would try to write a blog a week?

Yeah, that didn't happen. And it probably still won't. And I didn't make it one of my new year's resolutions, because everyone knows that no one keeps their new year's resolutions, anyway. Instead, I'm just going to keep on going with writing when I have time/a topic comes to mind.

Do you remember about 5 weeks ago, when I was home for Thanksgiving and wrote this blog about my time there? And how I promised a second half and told you all to "look for another installment and the point of the blog sometime soon."? Yeah, well, there are two problems. The first is that I don't remember a lot of what happened when I was home after that, and the second is that I don't remember what I actually had in mind for the point of the blog. My bad.

I did, however, make a list of serious topics that came from that trip home, so you'll see those in the coming weeks....

HOLY COW!!!

I just looked at the list, and guess what's on it! The point of the previous blog!!! Sometimes I do things like that, that are intended to make my life easier, but I don't pay attention or forget, and then my good intentions go out the window. Not this time, kids. Not this time.

Okay, so. On to the point of the previous Thanksgiving blog, which again, you can find here. I really recommend that you read at least the first two paragraphs.

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I'm very fortunate in that I have a very great group of friends and a fantastic family that has been super-supportive of me and my life decisions. I'm also very fortunate because even though I live 3-ish states away, they still keep in touch.

I'm not the best at calling people. Just ask my mom. (Sorry, Mom. I think maybe I'm getting better??) Apparently, many of my friends also aren't the best at calling, because they don't call me, either. (Yes, I just called you all out.) But we're all busy and have stuff going on, and it's easy not to call people. I used to use driving as a good excuse to call people, but I rarely drive anymore. I mostly take the bus, and I refuse to be that girl who keeps talking and talking and talking on a long bus ride.

Ugh. I'm straying from the point.

Even though I don't necessarily stay in the best of touch with my friends, when I'm home in ND, I try to make a point of seeing as many people as possible. This is not always easy. For example, many of my friends live 5-6 hours from Gwinner. Some (okay, most) have significant others, jobs, etc. that don't allot much time to Gwinner while I'm there. But we try. And it's great.

And I'm straying again.

I'm going to stop beating around the bush and get to the point. The point is this: If I spend too long within the boundaries of Gwinner, I start to go crazy. I get super crabby and really mean and get a really, really awful attitude. And I know that people notice. And I do apologize, but being there for too long makes me nutso. I know that it's the place that I grew up, and I know that everyone there is super supportive, but it's really hard for me to spend extended periods of time there. I love having a place to call home, and I'm more than happy to take short visits. And I love my family and I love visiting my friends who are around. But I just. get. miserable. And I feel bad, but it's true.

After my grandma died in the summer of 2008, I thought a lot about the small-town atmosphere. I thought to myself, "How could I ever live anywhere but a small town?" Everyone was more than willing to help with anything that anyone could possibly think of. It was so refreshing to see people come together and everyone knew and everyone cared. It was touching.

What I've learned from living in a bigger place, though, is that the same thing happens here, it's just with a smaller group of people. The people who know you and care about you are the ones who help and do what needs to be done. Sure, the entire city of Boulder isn't going to come together for me when my dog dies (I don't actually have a dog), but my closest friends and maybe even people one or two branches out from that circle would be willing to do whatever is needed. The city atmosphere just helps me to be more anonymous, which I totally appreciate.

This past summer, I spent my fourth summer in Medora. You can read about it here. Basically what it says is that I was miserable all summer. And I attributed a lot of my misery to crazy tourists. I still won't deny that. But now that there's more distance from the experience, I also attribute it to Medora's size and the traits that follow from it being a small town. Not the people, just the situation.

Here's what I'm trying to say. I appreciate the small-town life and am glad that I grew up in it and have experienced it. I love visiting it. There are some aspects of it that I seriously miss (see the blog about booze cruising to come soon). I'm really, really proud of a lot of things that my home state does. I brag about ND all the time. I'm glad to have a place to call home. I'm just mostly uncomfortable there. And I'm sorry for that.

But most of all, I'm sorry that when I'm there I get awful. Feel free to call me out. It's a serious problem. I can take it... Probably.

Home for the Holiday

I can't count the number of times that I have heard my parents say, "Stacey is the first one to want to leave home and the first one who wants to get back home."  When we were little, it was probably the most truthful saying in the history of the world.  I don't want to embarrass her terribly, but suffice it to say that she lived up to her reputation and could make herself physically sick to get out of any situation in which she wasn't comfortable. 

Last year when I was home for Christmas, I completely understood what Stacey felt when she was a child.  I was altogether too excited to get home to North Dakota for the holidays, but the excitement quickly wore off.  There is a list of reasons why, and I considered writing a blog about all of those reasons last year, but chose not to based on the number of people that I would have offended by writing it.  And that's coming from the girl who has told people, "If you don't like it, don't read it."  Yes, the potential sources were that offensive.  So I never wrote the blog, but let's just say that last year's trip home got to be pretty rough for a number of reasons that won't be discussed in this medium.  

Anyway, my trip home for Thanksgiving this year is significantly shorter than the trip home for Christmas last year.  Actually, I'm not *supposed* to be home at all.  In... June...? July...?  ish...?  my family decided that because both Stacey and I get a whole week off from school for Thanksgiving, they would come down to CO and we would spend Thanksgiving in Boulder.  I had it all figured out and a constructed list of things that I wanted us to do and acquired serving platters and had been checking grocery fliers for appropriate coupons and had told everyone about how excited I was for my family to come and hang out.  And then Mom called and listed off a number of very convincing reasons why it would make more sense for me to come home than for them to come to Colorado..  She then offered to buy me a plane ticket to make that happen.  You don't say no to Dorenda.  Or at least I don't.  You also don't say no to a free flight and a delicious, home-cooked Thanksgiving meal.

So after staying up too late on Monday night at game night in my house with my Boulder people, I woke up early on Tuesday morning and hoofed it to the bus station to head to the airport to head home to North Dakota to spend Thanksgiving with the fam.  I just want to say how struck I was by the contrast in everything between take-off and landing.  It was about 40 degrees when I left the airport, and when I looked out my window after take-off, all I could see for miles and miles were the ever-gorgeous Rocky Mountains. 

Because I'm me, I slept for the whole flight.  When I woke up and looked out my window, all I could see were snow-covered plains and... well... nothing for miles and miles.  I swear to you that I could see all the way to the Montana border.  North Dakota is freaking flat.  Also, it was like... ZERO DEGREES.  It's so cold here.  I've become a whiny Coloradan when it comes to weather.  And it's actually not that cold here right now, so I shouldn't complain at all.  I'm just spoiled.

There have been lots of adventures here, and I've only been home for 2 days.  Unfortunately, this blog is already so long that most people won't read the whole thing, so look for another installment and the point of the blog sometime soon.  I can't say when, but it will be soon.

Support

No, people, I am NOT talking about bras here.  I'm talking about people.

This weekend, CU Opera put on Carousel by Rogers and Hammerstein. I was in the chorus for the show, and had a very small solo in the second act, but was on stage for a pretty decent amount of time.

The show was great.  The cast was amazing.  I had a really good time (most of the time).  Those things aren't really a big deal to me right now, though.  The most amazing part of it for me was the fact that it reinforced something that I already knew:  I have an amazing support group.

My parents drove all the way to CO from ND to see me perform my 3-bar solo, stayed for a day, and drove the 15 hours back.  Friends and bosses and parents of friends and all sorts of other people came to see the show for my benefit, and they did it willingly.  And excitedly.  And I know there are even more people who wanted to come, but couldn't.

And of course, everyone gave very good feedback about the whole show.  And my "aria" (as my voice teacher called it).  I got an email from someone I hardly know that said that my hip-shaking shook the whole theatre, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a comment about my weight.  haha.  Just kidding, I know it wasn't. 

It's just really helpful to have people who are just as excited as me, if not more so, to see me doing something that I really enjoy.  It's a vote of confidence, and I like it.  

Thanks, supporters.  I appreciate you!

A Very Vegas Adventure

One of the things that I was most looking forward to during Christmas break was our family vacation to Las Vegas.  Mom had been planning it for weeks and weeks, and neither Stacey nor I had been there before.  At first, we weren't excited to have our first trips to Vegas with our parents, because one can't get quite as crazy with the parents around, but as the trip got closer and closer and the details became more clear, we got more excited.

It was our first family vacation in years.

We were scheduled to leave on January 1st from Fargo, arriving in Vegas in the late evening, then returning to the Northland on the 4th.  The flight to Vegas was one of the most amusing (and annoying) parts of the trip.  The kids next to us were from Canada, and were headed to Vegas to have a good time.  If their attitude on the plane was any indication of the rest of their trip, they would succeed.  During they flight, they drank a lot, and were fortunate enough to win a little lottery during the flight.  Their excitement, unfortunately, was a little annoying to us mellow people, but it was fine.

We landed, were shuttled to the hotel, and were met by interesting hotel issues.  They hadn't cleaned our rooms yet (yes, at 10:00 pm), due to New Year's Eve being the night before.  Because of their error we got 2 queen-sized rooms on like the 35th floor.  It was the older part of the hotel, where the famous people used to stay before they added the new wing.  The paint was fantastic, the bathrooms were amazing, and the beds were beyond great.  The only bad part was the lack of a view, but we survived.

We were all hungry and itching to gamble, so after settling into our rooms without a view, we grabbed a late, late dinner and set out on the playing floor for a bit.  We were all exhausted.  Stacey and I managed to get to bed before Mom and Dad, but not long after they went to bed, we received sad news.  I don't want to go into details here, because there may be a blog on this topic later, if I can write it.  

The news that my Grandpa had died, although not a surprise, was still difficult, and issues surrounding his death had us changing our vacation plans.  We would have to leave Vegas earlier than intended, but did our best to enjoy ourselves while we were there.

That day, we walked a lot, and even ran into those kids who sat beside us on the plane.  We saw the fountains at the Bellagio and gambled and gambled and watched people take pictures with homeless people (probably the true low point of the trip).  If there could be a high point, it was definitely this:

 A lifelong Gwinner-ite had moved to Vegas, but was at home in Gwinner for a large bit of time around Christmas.  He had been raving about this place called "Bill's," which served really cheap steak and eggs or something after midnight, and Mom was determined that we go there.  So before we headed to the Venetian for the Blue Man Group, we sought out to find Bill's.  Finding Bill's was not hard, nor was finding a restaurant in Bill's.  

We walked up to the first restaurant we saw, and had enough time to literally glance at the menu on the wall before a hostess came out and said, "Four?"  Now, please let me say that our first hint that this was not the place that we wanted to be was the fact that she was wearing a red dress with tassels, a la the Old West.  We didn't take the hint, though.  

We were escorted into the place, and knew immediately that this was not the place for us.  The waiters were all in full-length coats, the walls were all covered in mirrors and red velvet, and the chairs (which were pulled out and pushed back in for us as we sat) were all high-backed and upholstered.  The table was set for a fine meal, with 3 forks, several glasses, and fabric napkins, which were laid upon our laps for us.  

We felt a little awkward in our jeans, casual shirts, and fall jackets.

As the waiter took our drink orders, we slowly took in our surroundings and the menu.  Mom and Dad each ordered a whiskey drink, and the waiter ran off to get them.  When we looked at the menu and saw that the least expensive item, a plate of pasta, was $20, we debated whether to stay or to go.  And if we decided to go, how does one leave such a place tactfully?  

We decided there was no tactful way, but that we had to leave in order to save our sanity and a little money.  Small-town folk really don't belong in a place like that.  Our waiter was taking a while to get our drinks, so we told the man who was filling our glasses with water that we were leaving.  He gave us the evil eye, and told our waiter, who came.  My mom's words to him were, "I'm sorry, but we've made a mistake."  Mistake.  Yeah, a big mistake.

He begrudgingly brought our ticket, the one with 2 whiskey drinks on it.  Our total was near $20.  Not kidding.  For 2 drinks.  We left money for him and escaped out the front door, leaving our dignity behind us.  

Never before I have I been so embarrassed, yet so entertained.  Ever.  

We walked around a corner to the place with the cheap steak and eggs, and enjoyed meals of chicken strips and kung pao chicken, then headed to see Blue Man Group, which was entertaining, but not as entertaining as our adventure in Bill's.

When we returned to the hotel, we stayed awake as long as possible, until we had to be at the airport at 5:00.  We headed home a day early, but enjoyed our time nonetheless.

I'll be Home for Christmas...

After my Saturday night birthday debacle, my entire body needed to recover.  Sunday was spent doing nothing productive, and it rocked.  But Monday brought the prospect of bad weather, and I decided to complete the second half of my journey to Gwinner.  The trip from Bowman to Gwinner went mostly wonderful.  It was snowing when I left, and the roads weren't amazing, but weren't horrible, either.  The driving life was good, until I got to Mandan. 

I'm a good, blinker-using driver.  It makes me quite angry when people don't use their blinkers, no matter the circumstances, but especially when there are pedestrians involved.  I always use mine.  Until, when just outside of Mandan, I passed someone on the interstate.  Before I re-entered the right lane, I, like the good, blinker-using citizen that I am, turned on my blinker.  

Bad idea.  The blinker blinked, but the blinker knob fell right off.

So there I was, still passing people (to the left) with my blinker on (to the right).  I'm sure people thought I was crazy, and I was so so so embarrassed.  I finally exited the interstate and made a left-hand turn, which turned the blinker off, but my knob is still out of commission.

Next, I stopped in Jamestown to visit my lil' sis.  After having dinner, I went to put gas in my car and to wash my windshield.  With the snow and meltiness on the roads, people had been spraying nasty onto my windshield almost the whole way from Bismarck to Jamestown.  Unfortunately, my windshield wiper fluid pump is broken (do you see a trend with my car here?), so it had to stay dirty during my travels.  I was looking forward it to cleaning it with those lovely squeegees that all gas stations have.

I had forgotten about the cold in ND.  None of the gas stations had windshield cleaner in the gas bays because it gets too cold and freezes, so I had to wash my windshield with a dry paper towel.

I was honestly surprised about how excited I was when I saw the bright lights of Gwinner through my newly-cleaned windshield.  I couldn't quite understand it.  My excitement has waned since, for a number of reasons that shall be discussed in later blogs.

Since I've been home, exactly what I had feared would happen has happened.  See, my parents have jobs and therefore money, and therefore keep food in the cupboards.  Plus, it's Christmas, so there is a large variety of sweets and other such nonsense readily available.  Aside from that, my friends from high school were only home for a few days, so I quickly ran out of things to entertain me.  In short, I've done a lot of sitting around at home, bored.  And alcohol is just far too prevalent. 

But I'm home, with family, experiencing a full-out ND blizzard.  Both of the interstates are closed from one end of the state to the other.  No travel is advised.  The wind is howling, the snow is drifting, and people are stuck in their houses IN TOWN.  Many families have been split up for this Christmas, and are scrambling to make plans with whoever can get together, while mine is here, playing cards, watching basketball, and (mostly) enjoying each other's company.

Oh, ND...