Tourist in my own town

Taking advantage of an unseasonably warm late October, my parents drove down from South Bend last weekend for a visit. The weather promised to be mid-70s and rain-free, so we decided to hit downtown in the middle of the afternoon and see what there was to see.

The parents, the sister, the husband and I all met up and started off with a great late lunch at Palomino. It was a first for me, and while I'd love to make it back soon, it might have been a bit on the fancy side for the boy, who has the palate of a nine-year-old. He made do with a burger (minus veggies) and fries. I had a perfectly portioned tomato/pesto/mozzarella panini with a side salad of field greens with goat cheese and pumpkin seeds dressed with olive oil and topped with a lemon wedge. I took a wild guess that the lemon was meant to be squeezed over the salad to finish the dressing, which met with reasonable success. Mom had the same salad and was a bit mystified by it, so she took my lead, to mixed results. The goat cheese was a little out of her comfort zone as well, but, baby steps, I guess.

Next up on the rotation was a walk along the canal, which I'm ashamed to admit was also a first for me, even after four years as a Naptowner. We spent some time at the Medal of Honor recipients memorial, which in addition to being fascinating and humbling, is also just plain pretty. We continued along the canal walk onward to White River State Park, past the museums and down the sculpture path until we turned around at the zoo. All the while I was kicking myself for not having taken advantage of such a beautiful, culture-fied resource right in my own downtown. What else had I been missing out on for so long?

My Unsolicited 2 Cents on Ugly Websites

As I'm working through the editorial proofs for our upcoming magazine, I have the unenviable task of verifying the contact info for every company that's credited on the featured projects. My first stop in most cases is Google, in hopes of tracking down a professional company website with complete contact information.

Believe it or not, not every company has made it a priority to establish such a website. (Thankfully, the primary offenders here are not companies in our industry, but rather their project partners.)

After browsing something like 50 websites over the past week or so, many of which feature a few key common threads of badness, I feel prepared to launch a crusade against these common offenses.

Better Than A Live Mouse

Oh, Princess Annie.

Princess Annie brought a dead mouse into the living room today.

Inside the Wedding, Part 0: The Prologue

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was a reluctant wedding planner, but I wouldn’t go and say I dove in headfirst, either.

It was a means to an end. I was engaged and I needed to be married, and for that, there would need to be a wedding. So we picked a venue and set a date to look forward to, and one by one we knocked out all the little details that came marching along in the interim.

I wasn’t one of those girls who grew up dreaming of her wedding day, so I entered the planning game with no expectations and vowed (ha) to keep it no-frills. I set out with a long list of “don’t”s, most of which I pulled from the traditional lists of “do” s: no church, no religion, no anti-feminist rituals or language, and no regarding the day as the most important day of my life.

Along the way, I broke my own rules once or twice and started sweating the small stuff – a common trap for me when faced with creative decisions that can contain infinite levels of nuance if you allow them to. And a few times, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t competing to have the best wedding any of my guests (and frankly anyone ever) had ever attended.

But I more or less managed to keep my head about me while doing most of the work myself, and if I may say so, managed to pull off a pretty sweet event. And I even had just a little bit of fun in the process.

Two Miles is More Than Zero Miles

Yesterday afternoon I got the call informing me that my wedding dress had arrived at the bridal shop. It was all the prompting I needed to suit up in my new workout gear and hit the gym.

Ladies, if you think you have a hard time finding clothes that fit just right, just wait until it's time to go wedding dress shopping. At bridal shops, all of your body image issues will be laid out before you, with a numerical value assigned to each.

For me, that played out in the form of some disproportionate measurements when I ordered the dress this past fall: size 2 bust, size 6–8 hips, size 8–10 waist. (Gap.com tells me my thigh is a size 2 - just for another data point.) Not news to me, but it was still a bit deflating to see on paper. Knowing the hell I go through trying to find jeans that fit this frame, I have nothing but dread for the seven rounds of alterations I'm undoubtedly in for with this dress.

In an effort to control as much as I can of my own destiny, it's time to get back into the habit of regular gym-going. I'm telling myself that the fact that I went on December 29 instead of waiting until January 1 means it's not a New Year's resolution but rather simply a year-round good habit.

It's a drop in the bucket, but a two-mile jog is better than nothing, and it's enough to give me that general feeling of put-together-ness that's really the main reason I work out.

What's My Name?

I believe any self-respecting animal, when brought into a household, will see that it earns itself at least two to three serviceable nicknames.

That's just a starting point. Additional nicknames can be dispensed according to the animal's propensity for mischief and hijinks.

The Great Sage James Lipton Speaks

Can we just retire the word "sexting" and all media coverage thereof?

This morning, the top headline on IndyStar.com read "Poll: Sexting common among young people / Teens do not think about the consequences of sharing racy images, experts say." Earlier this week, the Today Show ran yet another segment on the dangers of "sexting," designed to frighten mothers everywhere with the tale of a teen who committed suicide after her racy photos were exposed to peers. Or something. I'll admit, I left the room when I saw her mother sitting on the couch with Meredith Vieira.

A tragic story, no doubt, but dirty pictures don't actually kill anyone. To draw a direct line between hitting "send" and ending one's life is a gross oversimplification of the complex tragedy of teen suicide.