madcity girl

Nobody loved life more than my Grandma D. If there was a game of bingo down the hall, she was there. A bus trip to the theater or a craft fair—she was undoubtedly the very first person to sign up for the trip. My grandma loved the holidays, especially Christmas. And Halloween. She very much enjoyed trips to the casino and going out to eat.

My grandma loved her children. There was a special place in her heart for each one of them—my mom, the oldest, and four boys. While so many families now seem to grow apart and disperse across the country, my grandma was the glue that held together an incredibly close-knit family. They’d do anything for each other and spend time together often—for the holidays, of course, but also for birthday parties, outings to the State Fair, pizza parties, and fishing expeditions. There was always laughter. And my grandma was the ring leader of it all.

My grandma was feisty. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and often did. Her favorite word was “Amen.” She said that after almost every sentence. She was also particularly fond of the phrase “Lordy, lordy.” But more recently, and somewhat incongruously, she proclaimed to me proudly that her favorite word was “shit.” All I could do was smile proudly and think to myself, that’s my grandma.

My grandma was incredibly kind and generous. Although she never had much in terms of money or possessions, she was rich in love and gave abundantly. She made friends everywhere she went. She showered her grandchildren in love. She knew what mattered most in life.

Earlier this year, my grandma’s health took a bad turn. Within a very short time, it became difficult for her to move and breath. The things she had always enjoyed became increasingly difficult. She wasn’t ready to die, but she didn’t want to live like that either.

I visited my grandma at her apartment two weeks ago. We sat and talked. She was in her blue recliner. Her TV was turned up loudly and she reminded me to speak up. I didn’t know it would be the last time we’d spend together. Despite the fact that she wasn’t well, her spunk and personality were still fully present. Knowing what I know now, there are things I would have done differently. Things I would have said. But more than anything, I’m so thankful to have had that hour.

My grandma’s birthday is in April. But since the future seemed so uncertain, the family decided to host a party this past Saturday to get everyone together to celebrate early. My cousins drove in from Minneapolis and Oshkosh, and I came from Madison. But sadly, my grandma didn’t make it. When my mom went to pick her up for the party, she was already gone.

We still had the party that night—my grandma wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. And we knew she was there with us in spirit. That night we came together as a family and shared stories about my grandma. We laughed. We cried.

Last night Larry and I had dinner at Kentucky Fried Chicken in honor of my grandma. During our last visit together, my grandma raved about the Kentucky Fried Chicken my uncle David had recently picked up for her for dinner—certainly not part of the doctor’s recommended diet, but my grandma had clearly enjoyed it immensely. Larry and I toasted over plates of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I looked up and said, grandma, this one’s for you.

What I’ll miss most about my grandma is the way she lit up a room with her presence. I’ll miss her cards on my birthday with $5 tucked inside and a note saying “Have one on me.” I’ll miss all those Amens. I’ll miss my most ardent and devoted blog follower and my mom’s gentle reminders that Grandma was patiently waiting for my next post. I’ll miss the way she stocked her pantry with Twizzlers and other treats when my brother I would sleep over when we were younger. I’ll miss exploring her treasure-filled attic and examining her curiously in her bath robe with a head full of curlers during those same sleepovers. I’ll miss the pool parties and my grandma’s famous Butterhorns. I’ll miss the Christmas day pictures with grandma and her twelve grandchildren snuggled up together on the couch.

I’ll miss the way she told me admiringly during our last visit “you don’t ever let grass grow under your feet.” Because so much of my own zest for life comes from my grandma.

My dad and I completed our traditional run from my parents’ house in Brookfield to the Milwaukee lakefront on Thanksgiving Day. What originally began as a Christmas day tradition has expanded in recent years to include Thanksgiving, other holidays, and random days when I’m home visiting my parents. The route is ten miles long and includes stretches along North Avenue, through the Menomonee River Parkway and Tosa Village, and a final  stretch downtown along Wisconsin Avenue. My dad always talks about how much he looks forward to our runs and the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with his only daughter (and sometimes also my brother, when he’s in town and can join us).

This year’s Thanksgiving Day Run was a great success. Despite warnings to the contrary, my dad is running stronger than ever. I also appreciated the unseasonably mild temperatures, especially as we got closer to the lakefront, where the winds usually pick up dramatically. During the hour-and-a-half run, our conversations ran the gamut from life, to work, to current events and politics. By the end of the run, my dad remarked, we’ve now solved all the world’s problems. Yes, indeed. As always, at the event of the run I felt great satisfaction and a sense of achievement—in both reaching the summit (the lakefront) and in spending quality time with my dad through our shared love of running. And certainly we had worked to clear plenty of room in our bellies for our Thansgiving feast!

Larry and I went camping in Door County this past weekend. I was excited to get away and spend time together, and enjoy some rest and relaxation before I leave for Ironman next week.

During our drive there Friday night, I was lured in by a sign in front of Scoops Ice Cream Parlor in Chilton advertising a flavor called Mmm…Bacon. Now how could I pass that up?

When we arrived at Peninsula State Park a few hours later, setting up camp was made much easier with our dual head lamps.

It was quite chilly out that night, as Larry demonstrates in this picture. Eventually, we snuggled up in our sleeping bags and tried to get some rest. We woke up in the morning to rain, which continued more or less for the rest of the weekend.

But we didn’t let a little rain spoil our adventures! After breakfast at White Gull Inn, Larry convinced me to head out on a bike ride in the rain through the park. (You may recall Larry and I met almost exactly two years ago during a bike ride.)

The rain continued to fall, so eventually we took shelter under umbrellas.

Our first stop was to Eagle Tower.

There, we climbed several stories of stairs to reach the top of the tower, where we enjoyed breathtaking views of Lake Michigan.

Despite the rain, several others were also out and about enjoying the day. We asked one of them to take our picture. After climbing back down the tower, Larry suggested we try to hike closer to the lake.

Eventually we came upon a nice secluded area overlooking the lake. Larry then put down his umbrella, wrapped his arms around my waist, gazed into my eyes, and began to talk about how he feels when he’s with me and the reasons he loves me. Both of our eyes starting welling up as I realized what was happening. Finally Larry got down on his knee and asked, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and spend the rest of your life with me?

To which I replied, Absolutely!

This made Larry jump for joy!

And together we enjoyed our beautiful moment.

And eventually rode back to our campsite in the rain.

But took a moment along the way to snap a picture of my ring, displayed as it should be, on the handlebar of my bike.

And after lunch, the sun came out for a while. And we kissed.

Then we enjoyed more of Door County.

And caught a beautiful sunset.

That night we called our parents to share the good news. Turns out my parents had known since the previous Sunday, when Larry had visited to ask for their blessing.

We stopped in Brookfield on our way home from Door County to celebrate with my parents. Larry and I had brought back apple cider for a toast.

Then we set off to my Grandma D’s to share the great news.

And then to my Grandma K’s.

So that’s the story of our weekend in Door County. We’re so happy and excited to share the good news with all of you!

You know you’ve found some measure of success in life when you score a feature in the alumni magazine of your alma mater. But doing it within five years of graduating from college? Now that’s impressive.

My brother and his best friend Ben are featured in the spring edition of On Wisconsin, the alumni magazine for UW-Madison alumni and friends - a publication that boasts extremely impressive circulation numbers, mailing to 310,000 Badger households.

The article details Kelly and Ben’s partnership in the development of dailymile, a social-networking site for runners, cyclists, and triathletes. Although the article has been in the works for the past few months, my heart filled with overwhelming pride when I received a link to the article earlier today. I’m sure those feelings will magnify when I receive a copy of the magazine in the mail. That’s my brother, says proud big sister.

If you know Kelly and Ben, you know that they’ve given everything (their time, talents, and energy) to the single pursuit of a dream. Together, they’ve made it happen. And there’s no two people who are more deserving. Kelly and Ben are the most simple, down-to-earth, friendly, and hard-working guys you’ll meet. Congratulations, Kelly and Ben! And On Wisconsin.

While many people in northern climates are busy plotting their mid-winter escape to warmer locales, I’ve been more interested in heading north.  This past weekend I fled to the great northwoods for a snowy weekend at my family’s cabin near Minocqua. A friend and I navigated through a particularly brutal snow storm to arrive late on Friday night. By that time, my parents had long since arrived to de-winterize the cabin. I was extremely grateful for running water and heat upon our arrival.

Our cabin usually sits largely untouched during the colder months. Amazingly, it was my first time there during the winter. It was exciting to see everything from a completely new perspective—frozen and snow covered. It’s incredible to contemplate how the entire landscape and ecosystem is totally altered in the span of just a few months. Instead of gazing down from our deck over a glassy lake, I was staring out on frozen tundra.

Our weekend largely revolved around outdoor activities and warming up inside over board games, chili, books, and chats. One of my favorite excursions was to Winter Park in Minocqua, a x-country skiing mecca with 45 miles of groomed trails. We had a great time exploring the trails and huddling over the warm fire in the chalet. My friend and I also enjoyed a few late night runs on the 600 ft. tubing slope! Other weekend highlights included snowshoeing across the lake with my mom and a nice morning run with my dad (after which we enjoyed a great breakfast of hot blueberry pancakes). All in all it was everything I had hoped for in a mid-winter escape—perhaps “celebration” is more fitting. As I always say, bring on the snow.

I’ve wanted to learn how to knit for years. It all started when a friend of mine knitted me a hat for Christmas a few years back. It was one of the most touching gifts I’d ever received. The hat was so colorful and warm. I was amazed by the time my friend must have spent on it, and also that it was possible to make something so beautiful with your hands. I treasured that hat and wore it down to to its last threads.

But wanting to learn how to knit and actually doing it are two very different things. And for so long, I just wasn’t able to bridge that gap. Even when my parents gave me needles, yarn, and a “how to knit” DVD for my birthday a few years ago, I wasn’t able to muster the time or patience to learn. And so my needles and yarn sat in the lonely darkness of my closet quietly gathering dust.

Last year I vowed to myself that I would finally learn how to knit. But still, a part of me doubted my resolve. What saved me is that my mom finally decided that she, too, wanted to learn how to knit. She ended up teaching herself this past fall through a variety of books and YouTube videos. This, of course, was a beautiful thing. She was now one step ahead of me, meaning that I’d finally have someone who could sit down and walk me through the steps—which was so much more appealing to me than trying to learn by starting and stopping a “how to knit” video hosted by perky Nici McNally.

So over Thanksgiving weekend I dusted off my knitting needles and yard and dragged it all back home for a lesson with mom. She patiently sat down with me and taught me how to cast on and how to do both the knit and purl stitches. I picked up the knit stitch relatively easily; but like most people, the purl stitch gave me more trouble. It was comforting, however, to know that they were the only two stitches I’d ever need to know. And so I practiced and practiced. Over the weekend, I even became a bit obsessed—taking my knitting with me wherever I’d go.

But then I got back from Thanksgiving break and the demands of the daily grind resumed. I’d pick up my knitting every now and then, but it largely sat untouched. Meanwhile, my mom was completing all kinds of new projects—hats, scarves, neck gators—you name it. We hoped to spend some time together over Christmas knitting together; but unfortunately, the time never materialized.

So that’s how our latest “girls day” came about. My mom made the trip to Madison last week and our focus was to spend time together knitting. She taught me how to knit “on the round” and excitingly, I began my first real project—a hat. So we sat next to each other on the couch, our conversation moving over the rhythmical “click, click” of our knitting needles.

I continued to work on that hat all weekend. I was determined. I wanted to finish my first project and to also make my mom proud. I’m happy to report that I’m just about finished with my first hat. It’s a red fuzzy number—with some dropped stitches and other mistakes scattered throughout—but something I’m pretty damn proud of nonetheless. I think my mom is, too.

Every once in a while my mom and I get together in Madison for some “girl time.” No dad, no brother—just us. Although I had just spent a few days at home with my parents for Christmas, the time had felt short and rushed. And my mom and I hadn’t been able to spend time together knitting—a hobby we’d both recently picked up. So last week I suggested to my mom that she come to Madison—I’d take the day off work and we’d hang out. Luckily, she was game.

As always, we had a great time together—dinner and beers at Capital Tap Haus, a chilly stroll around the capitol, salted caramel hot chocolates from Starbucks, late night knitting and sleeping in, a breakfast of crepes and French press coffee from Bradbury’s, hunting for treasures at St. Vinny’s, admirning beautiful yarn at the Knitting Tree, a lunch of big slices from Pizza Brutta, and more knitting. It was mother-daughter bonding at it’s finest…memories I’ll treasure forever.

My family has an annual Christmas Day tradition to run from my parents’ house in Brookfield to the Milwaukee Lakefront (about 10 miles). I can’t remember exactly when the tradition first began, but we only took one year off—last year, when the flu decimated us one by one. But in good health, it’s a strong tradition that holds through the fiercest winds and highest snow accumulations. Here are my posts from our runs in 2008 and 2007.

This year was a little different with the notable absence of my brother, who didn’t make it home from San Francisco for the holidays (although he did Skype in for present opening). Amazingly, I actually missed his whining about having to get up so early for our run and his passionate pleas that we continue the tradition no matter what formidable conditions were thrown our way.

Although it wasn’t quite the same without him, my dad and I set out on our normal route—down North Avenue, along the Menomonee River Parkway, through a variety of parks (Hart, Jacobus, and Doyne), and then up Wisconsin Avenue to the lake. As our designated pick-up driver, My mom drove down the lakefront and ran a few miles there before meeting us for the final stretch.

Afterward we took fun pictures to commemorate our 2010 Christmas Day run. I especially like the jumping pictures. Now it’s off to Grandma D’s for family fun and great food. With ten miles under my belt, there’s plenty of room in my belly for some good Christmas day eating. I’m especially looking forward to the Dempsey family shrimp extravaganza and foodie present exchange.

Happy holidays to everyone! Hope you have a wonderful day with your families and loved ones.

This year I finally purchased my first “big girl” Christmas tree. In previous years, I’d been disappointed with (and slightly embarrassed by) my barely-knee-high tree that cowered in a corner and pathetically sagged under the weight of an ever-growing ornament collection. This year I invested in the real deal. And by real, I mean fake. A $49 day-after-Thanksgiving door-buster from Home Depot. It’s a towering six foot number pre-lit with precisely spaced strands of white lights and decorated with artificial pine cones and berries. She’s a real beauty.

The Sunday after Christmas I dedicated my evening to tree assembly. And some will tell you that assembly of any kind is not my strong suit. Admittedly, I’m impatient and despise following what I believe are more often than not mindbogglingly unclear instructions. Lucky for me, setting up the tree was not rocket science, rather a matter of connecting four poles, separating and shaping branches, and plugging in lights. It was something even I could handle.

I stood back and admired the tree before setting to work on my next and favorite task—unpacking and hanging my collection of ornaments. I love unwrapping my ornaments from their tissue paper cocoons and taking a moment to recount the memory behind each. Growing up, my parents bought me an ornament each year to represent something important in my life. The ornaments are many and varied: there’s a globe from my birth year, an ice cream sundae from childhood, a swimmer inscribed with my nickname “Krit” from high school, a Bucky Badger from college, and perhaps most entertaining, Barbie (wearing a gown my mom hand-painted red) for the year I was named homecoming queen at UW. All the little memories that collectively represent my life.

The end result was magnificent. But my eyes were immediately distracted by the unsightly tree base that screamed “artificial tree.” It was clear I needed to invest in a tree skirt. And despite my mom’s pre-St. Nick’s Day warnings (do not buy anything for yourself), I set out on a quest to find the perfect tree skirt. But I was quickly disheartened. The few tree skirts I found were generic, tacky, and extraordinary over-priced. After a few shopping trips, I had pretty much given up.

But like a Christmas miracle, over the weekend I received my annual St. Nick’s Day package from my parents. The box included an assortment of small goodies. Just when I thought I had reached the end, I felt something folded at the bottom of the package underneath a thick bed of tissue paper. Slowly, I uncovered a beautiful tree skirt my mom had quilted for me. My eyes lit up with joy and I rushed to put it in its place below the tree. It was absolutely perfect. My Christmas tree was finally complete. And once again I learned it’s always best to listen to mom.

My brother and I are separated in birth by 13 months. We’ve always been close. But we’ve lived relatively far apart for the past several years. He lives in San Francisco. I’m in Madison. Which means that our times together are few and far between. I’m still in denial that I only see my brother once or twice a year. I secretly hope (and genuinely believe) he’ll someday return to his Wisconsin roots. I keep my fingers crossed anyway.

But until then, I make the most of the time we do have together. So it was a big deal when my brother, along with his best friend and girlfriend, booked flights to Wisconsin for a long weekend in late-October. After much anticipation, they arrived to Milwaukee early last Thursday after a red-eye flight from San Francisco. My mom’s eyes flooded with tears as my brother came walking through the terminal. Although I had been out to California to visit my brother in June, my parents hadn’t seen my brother in almost a year (my mom would want you to know that they certainly tried). Kelly looked the same as always with his goofy grin and trademark flip flops. It was great to see him.

My brother was excited to get back to Wisconsin during the fall, spend time with our family, and show his girlfriend what makes Wisconsin so special. Kelly’s best friend Ben was also excited to spend time in Madison with his sister, who is a senior at UW. It was a whirlwind of a weekend. I took Thursday, Friday, and Monday off work and spent every moment with my brother. I made sure we hit every hot spot in Madison, and a few in Milwaukee as well. We had burgers and custard at Kopp’s, beers on the Union terrace and in the Rathskeller, dinner at the Underground Kitchen, one too many boots and a round of polka dancing with a big group of friends at the Essen Haus, and capped off the evening at Natt Spil. And that was all on the first day…

The rest of the weekend we hiked at Devil’s Lake, enjoyed apple cider and caramel apples at Ski-Hi, went to the Dane County Farmers’ Market, enjoyed drinks at the Great Dane and Brocach, devoured fried cheese curds and a fish fry at the Old Fashioned, toured the New Glarus Brewery and sampled beers in the outdoor biergarden, watched the Badger game at State Street Brats, had dinner at the Weary Traveler and breakfast at Lazy Jane’s, enjoyed a traditional Serbian dinner at Three Brothers in Milwaukee, and ran our family’s traditional 10-mile route from my parents’ house in Brookfield to the Milwaukee lakefront. We also visited my Grandma D.

I think we hit it all. Or as much as we possibly could in four days.

It was such a fun weekend. I loved spending time with my brother. Here are a few more of my favorite pictures from the weekend….