Category Archives: Friends


Today was unusually full of people for me. My boss actually came in to work (he volunteers so that isn’t intended to be as passive aggressive a statement as it sounds) and then I was in a brainstorming meeting that lasted almost 4 hours. And then I went and visited a friend and her kids!

And by golly if I wasn’t hoarse by the time I got back!

But it was lovely to talk and see my friends and visit, however briefly. And if that means I turn into a chatterbox…well, have to get it all out! I never know when I will see people next!

Friends and Baby Showers ❤

10 years later, still cheesing. So excited to meet your little one, Ashley!

On Unlearning Old Dogmas

My friend Tori wrote some thoughts about coming of age in the “purity” movement and as I have been part of many of these conversations (and life experiences!) she mentions, I thought I’d share her thoughts instead of a post from me today. I always love her blog posts! ❤ I might try and sketch out some of my own thoughts one of these days.

I Say It Better In Writing

I needed a little black dress for a bachelorette party I’m attending (In Montana in less than a week! YAY). It was sheer luck that I actually found one that fit me right away. The following conversation about took place between me and Alex:

Me: It shows my cleavage a bit though.
Alex: So?
Me: That doesn’t bother you?
Alex: Does it bother you?
Me: Nooo… I just want to make sure you’re okay with me wearing it. You’re sure?
Alex: Of course, I trust you, it’s not like you’re going to go try and get a bunch of random dudes’ attention with it while you’re out partying. If you’re comfortable with it I am.

It was a weird feeling. Because while I knew I didn’t think it was wrong, and obviously Alex didn’t care, I still felt a little guilty buying it, like I was doing something wrong.


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The Diner

A kind friend drove to Madison yesterday to help me with some graphic design work for my company’s website. To thank her, I told her to pick a nice place for brunch this morning. She invited my sister to join us and chose a diner I’d never heard of.

I quickly realized as we pulled in, however, that I’d driven past the place countless times on my way to school. The diner probably looked new in the 1970s, but hasn’t been updated since. A saggy drop ceiling, chipped tile floors, dirty mirrors, and a low counter completes the look.

Prominent signs everywhere say: NO CHECKS ACCEPTED.

We shuffled in and looked around awkwardly. Apparently it was seat yourself because no one told us otherwise. A couple sat at one side of the counter and an older, larger man in neon green with a wild beard sat at the other end. The couple had just received their bill. They were not pleased.

“$14! For an omelette!” the woman said angrily.

The waiter—scrawny, at least 60, and prominently wearing a t-shirt for another restaurant—responded: “You got three omelettes.”

She shook her head and they stormed out.

“You eat like a king and you got to pay for it,” said the waiter to no one in particular.

Or perhaps it was to the gentleman at the counter because he responded, “Did they at least leave a tip?”

“Nope,” said the waiter sorrowfully, then repeated, “If you eat like a king…”

They both shook their heads.

“Eggs and steak going up I hear,” said the man at the counter.

“They already did!” said the waiter.

More head shaking.

Now, we’d been sitting there for about five minutes without any recognition but the waiter finally nodded at us and said he’d be right over. He eventually did walk over and pulled out his pad,

“What can I get you ladies?”

Hesitantly, I suggested we might like to see a menu. He looked surprised.

“That will cost extra,” said the man at the counter.

We finally got our menus. I was surprised by how cheap everything was after the earlier couple’s grumbling: pancake for $4, steak and eggs for $8, bacon and eggs and fries for $9. You could also get french toast and omelettes, but otherwise that was basically the extent of the menu.

My sister ordered a pancake with strawberries. The guy at the counter informed us that is also what he ordered. I ordered the steak and eggs. The waiter looked surprised by this choice and had me repeat it three times.

The waiter also dropped off three forks, three knives, and two spoons. (Intentional or not? We couldn’t decide.)

Then they went back to ignoring us.

“So,” said the man at the counter to the waiter. “I hear you had a heart attack.”

“Yep,” said the waiter. “Three days ago.”

The man at the counter shook his hand, “Man, and to think your ex-wife said you didn’t have a heart.”

The waiter nodded, “I showed her.”

He shuffled into the back. (Possibly to cook our meal? Not much evidence of anyone else working.)

The man at the counter asked if the owner of the diner was feeling the pinch from the lock-down. The waiter shuffled back out and shrugged.

“It don’t seem like it today, but you never know about tomorrow. He doesn’t work Mondays anyway.” (For the record it is Tuesday so I’m not sure if that was a reference to the boss’s absence or his lack of panic yesterday.)

We got our food and it was as good as you would expect from such a place, which is to say, actually really good.

Another couple walked in. The man carried what looked like jumper cables connected to a battery. He wanted to charge it.

The waiter looked solemn and informed him the last time someone tried to charge something like that, they flipped a breaker and had to bring the electrical company in to fix it, but he was welcome to try. So the guy plugged it in and we all waited with baited breath to see if anything would happen. (It didn’t.)

The guy then ordered a meal to go, which he promptly sat and ate in the diner. However, some small dispute arose—I didn’t catch what—and the waiter began to indignantly repeat, “I don’t make the rules. I don’t make the rules. I don’t make the rules.”

At this point, we’d wrapped up our meal so I pulled out my card and tried to hand it them.

“He only takes cash,” the waiter said, exasperated, “I don’t make the rules!”

I glanced around to see if I missed a sign about this being a cash-only establishment but saw nothing except the warning against checks.

I don’t carry cash so I told him I would need to run to an ATM. He looked resigned. I told my guest and sister I’d be right back and drove to the nearest ATM.

Problematically, my debit card has recently refused to run as a debit so after trying and failing to pull out cash, I drove all the way back to my apartment. And couldn’t find my wallet. So then I had to find my emergency cash stash. And then I drove back and found all 5 parking spots full. So I spent more time trying to locate a parking spot two blocks over. (Because despite the strangely hick feel of the place, the diner is located in the middle of a major city.)

Exasperated, slightly embarrassed, extremely self-conscious I hurry in to pay. The waiter looked at me in surprise.

“Are you guys done already?”

Mailing Packages

I love buying gifts for people. But problematically, most of my friends live far away and I am not always so great at following up and mailing the gifts. 

Case in point: today I mailed my friend her Christmas present.

Actually, today I mailed 7 packages. And got two letters out. And then came home and realized I forgot about another possible package. Whoops.

It all ended up being quite the adventure, though. I dragged Bethany with me and the first post office I went to didn’t have any big enough boxes in storage for most of my gifts so then I went to Office Depot to pick up supplies and realized I could send through FedEx there. Turns out, it would have been a lot faster to grab the supplies and gone back to the post office because none of the employees felt confident about working their super slow computer to print the labels and everything took 5x longer than I expected.

But they did half-jokingly offer Bethany and I a job after seeing our great packaging skills. 

By the time we left , I realized I accidentally left another gift in the car so then we went to a second post office where I apparently grabbed the not-yet-on-sale Father’s Day envelope instead of the actually on-sale Mother’s Day envelopes. (The one I grabbed was blue and seemed a better option than pink and hearts. IDK.)

But at least I finally got them all out!

Trivia Confessions

People assume that because I read an enormous amount, I am good at trivia. 

Fun fact: I am not good at trivia. 

At least, not bar trivia. I know nothing of sports, pop culture, geography, or music. And guess which topics dominate? 

Some friends invite me every few weeks to join their trivia group and I go and I usually provide nothing to the team. At most I can claim a knowledge of history, but one of my teammates is a far bigger history buff than I am and usually knows the answer. (Though, actually, once, several glorious months ago, I answered a sports question: it was pole vaulting. And I suppose the one time a law question came up, I got that too) 

But last night…I did it. I knew the answer to the question and no one else at my table did. Such a moment of triumph. And the category? Literature

So if you ever need someone who can recognize an Emily Dickinson poem at your trivia night, I’m your woman. 

The Mixed Blessing of an Old Friend

This past weekend I visited my friend Sara. We figure we met online around age 12; we certainly met in person for the first time at age 16. Not only did she know me at my craziest, she introduces me to people by telling them about it. 

“This is Amy. I didn’t like her when we met because she was super hyper.”

“This is my friend Amy. In high school I pulled her off picnic tables because when debate got really heated she would turn bright red and stand on them to make her point.”

“This is Amy! She went on her first plane ride with me and I kept having to forcibly drag her through the airport because she kept pausing to complain about the historical inaccuracy of the murals on the airport walls.”

And the worst part? I don’t have any horrible stories to tell back! Either I don’t remember them or she was just really mature at 16. Or, as probably more likely, I was the crazy one and anything she did paled compared to me standing on picnic tables.

Or irritating the tour guide at the White House with my steady stream of commentary. 

Or staying up till 4 am watching the Disney Channel because by golly I was not going to let the cable TV in our hotel room go to waste. 

In conclusion, it is good to have old friends. It keeps you humble. 

I Want A Cat

I am visiting my friend in Minnesota this weekend and falling in love with her cat. Its name is Edo.

She also has a dog named Tux.

They are TuxEdo.

The cat is currently entertaining herself with a fake mouse. She casually pretends she cannot see it and then bats it away before chasing it across the room. Or casually picks it up and flings it.

This confuses the dog who then comes over to investigate and gets swatted by the cat 1/7th his size.

Entertainment for hours.

I have to admit, though, most of the reason I enjoy hanging with both pets is because they have a really good pet owner who makes them mind her. And I realize that as charming as they are, I probably would not be as excellent an owner. So instead of getting one, I am just going to keep playing with hers.

A Short Walk

It is about time for my annual jog. I can feel it in my bones, a restless need to move that is more psychological than physical. I respond to it by running really hard for a short time and then the feeling goes away. I am free to be my own lethargic self for another year. 

Except unfortunately I do not have time right now to go for a run. By the time my daily activities end, it is dark. And I do not run in the dark. So the feeling continues. 

Tonight, when I realized I missed my bus and the next one was still 25 minutes out, I turned to my law school friend who was also waiting for the bus and lives nearish me and asked if he wanted to walk to the next bus stop. I figured it was a win-win. I’d get my exercise and not freeze my butt off standing in one spot and since I was walking with someone, and a guy at that, I could worry less about getting mugged. 

Except, maybe you’ve noticed this, I can be kind of intense? So once we hit the next stop and the bus was still 20 minutes out, I suggested we kept walking…

Then the bus passed us before we made it to the next stop. 

Being the reasonable person I am, I suggested we walk the rest of the way back. What I did not realize? The walk back is over an hour. We’d have saved so much time if we just waited for the next bus. 

But I guess I got my exercise in. 

The Voting Game

So, for Siblings Day, my brother gave me a card game: The Voting Game. He thought it sounded like a good ice breaker. Basically, everyone playing gets a number, you read a prompt, and vote for the person/number it sounds most like. Like Apples to Apples! we thought. 

We were wrong. 

The fact that the game was for 17+ should have been the first clue

It might actually be a fun game for a close group of friends. But for strangers/acquaintances? Let’s just say it is closer to Cards Against Humanity than Apples to Apples and a sure way to offend literally everyone. Definitely not a good game for a church small group game night. 

Guess who brought it to a church small group game night? Not sure I can ever show my face again.