M is for Michigan!

On my way home from The Big City, I took a two-and-a-half day detour to Michigan, to visit Annie B. and Jeffrey. Michigan was a blessed sight after the hustle and bustle of NYC. As I flew in over the lakes and treetops, I could tell I was going to love it there. Anne and Jeff have set up a great little place for themselves and all seems quite routine. I could easily see Wheatie's influence on Anne's home decor: the Halloween decorations, candy corn in an all-too easily accessible dish, and the perfect setup in the guest bath. Of course two days wasn't anywhere close to long enough to fulfill my Gone-Since-August Anne Withdrawls, but I was grateful for the temporary remedy!

Highlights from my adventures with A & J:

-Charming Ann Arbor
-Stucchi's - almost as good as Shop-n-Go...almost. And Jeff, it is "Shop."
-Anne's pork chops
-Walking around the Arboretum and chatting about absolutely nothing and absolutely everything
-Cajun food a la Michigan!
-Anne's tour of the U of M campus, empty stadium and all
-Time with Jeff (in between studying, studying, and hmm...let's see...more studying)
-FRANKENMUTH! (Okay, so not so much our thing, but the drive was beautiful and I did make off with a great ornament for Rich)
-Bee-boppin' it late into the night at Steve and Barry's (Is it Steven Barry's?) while they were trying to close for the night.
-Parallel parking. Way to go, Annie B. We almost had it, didn't we?
-Driving through the old neighborhoods to look at the houses
-"You've found your paradise and Woodchase!" (No pets allowed)
-Candy corn, peanut butter pretzels and "Death in a 4x4"
-Stapled sack lunches and other high school stories
-The air mattress
-The Apple Computer Club chats with Jeff
-Morning walks
-Shmallow time - there's never enough of that!

Annie, I wore my Michigan sweatshirt all day today, not wanting to face work. Oh, the joys of a home office. Faxing in your flannel pjams. Okay, so I wasn't that casual. I'm going to get a lot of good use out of your generous gift. Can't wait to GO BLUE here at home.

Thank you for the most wonderful visit. I can't wait to come back. Have the Coleman (and the heater) at the ready!

au retour

I arrived home this evening, weary but oh so happy; grateful for adventures, friends (old and new), surprises, food, art, work (which was more like play) family, and, as always, happy to be home. There's no place like it.

Travel log to follow.

Hello? Hello?

Dugout Depression? Mad at Matsu? Jaded by Jake?

Never fear...There's help for the downhearted.
(This is for real, folks).

THE RED SOX HOTLINE

What's Eating Ortiz?

Now Meka, what on earth would make you say that?!

Heaven

Tie a knot and hold on

Just when I thought I was at the end of my rope, that the ship was indeed headed straight for the storm, and there was no one within ear-shot of my MAYDAY! MAYDAY! clarion ship-to-shore S.O.S., the clouds began to part...ever so slowly...one at a time.
The following brought back blessed buoyancy:


*A much-needed phone call from my favorite red-headed Minnesota roommate.
*A night out for Mom's birthday with Grandma and Uncle R.
*A trip up Big Cottonwood to work on the P's cabin, the leaves at their prime.
*Time today with the darling Beehives and Liz's ever-wise words.
* Testimony meeting at MP First.
*Grandma's comment to Sister Wooddard, thinking no one was listening.
*Thoughts from an inspired bishop at the U of U 33rd ward.
*Mandy. I love you, dear Mandy! (No, E. Not that one, although she did make work errands on Friday "Extraordinary.")
*A spontaneous dance party last night in Sarah's room.
*Girl time ... with A, S, Grace Kelly, Dr. L ... and, oh yeah, Rick.
*The Chard. Period. The End.

Thank you, one and all! May I be so lucky as to return the favor.

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person."
|Albert Schweitzer|

Get It Like You Like It

GO RED SOX!

bostonglobe.com

"The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again."
|Field of Dreams|

Girls Rule

Pumpkin cookies, secret forts and story time. Thanks for the greatest afternoon in a long while!

The best mom. The best friend...in the world!

Pastries, Passwords and Carpet Genies

"You know the place I'm talking about? There's the bakery here." She went on gesturing. As a good designer would do, I pretended to know exactly what she was talking about. "Oh, yes yes yes yes yes. Okay. (Nodding, for added effect). I know it." She had stopped talking mid-chorus-o-yesses. Apparently I was convincing. She handed over the samples, ever so trustingly. I walked out to my car, not having a clue as to where I was headed, except that I was to go to 2700 south and that I'd be able to pick up a Danish or something equally as delicious to help aid in the search effort.

My "I'm-going-to-conquer-the-design-world-one-living room-at-a-time" jams were full-throttle, providing the needed motivation, at least until I had a pastry in hand. So, I'm cruising 27th South (the "teen scene" as MM and I say - translation: 2700 south is where it's at!) not looking for the designer carpet store, but for a bakery? There was something wrong with this picture. I ditched the Danish idea, at least for the time being, and focused on the design task at hand: carpet. WAY more exciting than cream-filled desserts, right? Of course right.

I was just about to hit "repeat" (again) on Track 01, when I spotted it. An inconspicuous, artless gray hunk of a building, with the lettering, "Designer Carpet Showroom" in guilded gold. Sure glad they splurged there. Way to jazz up the place! Actually, had it not been for the gold signage, and the late-afternoon sun which sparkled through the autumn-dressed trees at exactly the perfect guilded angle, I would have passed the place altogether. To make the sad site sorer, there was a tall, black wrought-iron gate, practically welded shut, right at the entry to the parking lot, which was only accessible upon entrance through the locked gate. Of course. Of course. They taught us this in design school. Let me think. Let me think. And the password for strangely-secure carpet showrooms is...

Standing perpendicular to the black asphalt, cemented 20 feet into the ground, was a large security box full of numbered and lettered buttons. Well, roll out the welcome mat, speaking of carpet. This place was just shouting for visitors. Yes, showrooms often under-advertise in order to keep the public at bay, but this place was one Doberman shy of a compound!

I rubbed the security box thrice, ready to say, "Hi, it's me, Al. Here to see Robin Williams," but this genie wasn't waking up anytime soon. There was no big blue dude on the other end. Not even a voice. Yes, out of all the designer-only showrooms, it's the carpet showrooms that are on the cutting-edge of technology. There are so many new advances in carpet...padding. At this point, the five-o-clock traffic was nearing grid-lock. Or so it appeared. But wait. This was 2700 south, not I-15. What was all the honking about? I just don't understand those people who honk when they know it won't do any good. I looked in my rear-view mirror to pity the fool when all of a sudden I realized, it was my tail end that was clogging up the lanes on 2700 south! Where was the genie now that I needed him the most?! Feeling defeated on multiple levels (I mean, an actual genie! So close. Can you imagine?!) I waved to the guy who I labeled "jerk," only to find out I was the one who had made him such, and let him know that I had snapped out of my Al's Carpet Palace Nightmare, that I would be getting out of his way immediately, and would he like a Danish with that? I know of a great bakery just around the corner. Or at least I think it is.

Needless to say, I'm off to face off the carpet god's again tomorrow, business license, tax ID number, birth certificate, passport and references in-hand. I'll scan them through that high-tech laser-beam designer-detector and be in like flint. There's a nice side-street that will be perfect for parking, if memory serves me. I'll be sure to grab a pastry prior to my visit and I'll get a few extras in case I need to do any persuading - about carpet, cars or anything of the sort.

And to think...this morning the name Carpet Giant sounded too impersonal.

ode to yale years

To any and all who've experienced the magic.

(Is that sugary enough for you, guys? These pictures won't be amusing to anyone but us. Some were too funny slash perfect to pass up. I have Tim Walker, and the long day that is now behind me -- thank goodness-- to thank).
Lots of love,
M.

Way Down in Kokomo

Dearest Cousins o' Mine (ALN, MHM, and KEH, respectively):


I think I'm onto something, girls! After stumbling upon K's blog today (and nearly having an accident I laughed so hard) I decided that it's far past time that the Haglund Four of Us take that trip somewhere...anywhere! "Aruba? Jamaica?... Bermuda? Bahama?" The Lodge at Stillwater just won't do. Not for this kind of trip. And, I think you'd all agree.

I was going to post a picture for persuasion purposes, but as I pillaged, I didn't come up with any sort of treasure. Just sun-burned bodies after tubing on Uncle John's boat (in K's case that would be flipping), black-and-white shots from Lake Geneva with our contemporaneous ( I like my Widgets, too, K!) haircuts bee-boppin' to the Beach Boys on the mary-go-round, and images of the four of us in "Slave Quarters" in the BL condos, I decided against it. We'll just make a cuz-pact to flash-left, flash- right every second of our travels!

So, what are you to do about it, you ask? Here's the deal: go to this address (any other readers, feel free to do the same, but if you don't know what went down at the Chi-Omega house in '89, or if you've never heard "Ode to Our Lady of Neural Circle," I'm afraid you'll have to miss out this go-round) take the quiz, don't forget to send me the results, and we've got ourselves a preliminary itinerary! K, could we get Pilot Haglund's permission for buddy passes?
Love to you all,
M.
*thanks to Jen for the quiz!

opened with expectation, closed with profit

When you re-read a classic you do not see in the book more than you did before. You see more in you than there was before.
- Clifton Fadiman

extraordinary

she's coming.
we're going.
NOME.

Chemistry 101: Professor K. Henry

Em (!) I was thumbing through old journal entries last night and found this scribbled onto a piece of paper. Apartment 4 was it? I spent so much of my time (all of my time?) in apartment 2 and wanted to spend a little time in 3 - but never did - that I forget where Chutney and Brad lived. You'll have to remind me of that one. After all, you and Chut (dude, that's a guy's name) "had Chemistry together." "Nice Ask!" Wherever it was, this is invaluable information...and today, I found it. No more trying (and failing) to recite from memory. Perhaps we two will be the only ones who will appreciate it...Oh, those were the days, weren't they?
Love you later,
Jane

FOUR THINGS EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW:

How to look like a girl.
How to act like a lady.
How to think like a man.
How to work like a dog.

When you get to the bottom you go back to the top

(Here you go, Linds. With no editing, as promised. Date originally penned, January 19, 2005)

I'm thankful for new beginnings, "bubble bath" OPI nail polish, Yale Avenue and cell phones. I'm thankful for lunches with the girlies, drives to Salt Lake with Katharine and the feeling I get when I walk in my back door. I'm thankful for my Iowa roots, the red water pump at the cabin and memories of picking blackberries in Grandma Fetzer's backyard. For my gray slippers. For forgiveness. I'm thankful for the nights I can fall asleep quickly, that even if the Rhondeaus are out of town I can look through the window on the landing and know they won't ever move away again. That the people who know me better than I know myself are honest with me. I'm thankful for sacrament hymns full of powerful words, for reverence, for fathers' blessings and mothers' intuition. For cherished moments talking late at night with Em, for Anne and Jim's "Mutual Admiration Society." For Subway's veggie sandwiches. That I don't have to do shots anymore. That Libby's hearing loss has slowed. For memories of Bis. For walks around the neighborhood with Chewy. For Kates. I'm thankful for that little space heater we keep in the study that keeps me warm while I email. That my parents haven't moved. For short Cafe Rio lines, for Pentel "rolling writer" pens. I'm thankful for Dad's Groucho Marx lines about elephants in pajamas and for Mom's advice on love and relationships. I'm thankful for Sunday afternoons in Provo, that the temple is so close, and that families are forever. For post-it notes, my blue sweat pants, for my tea cups and for our trip to France. I'm thankful for my talents, for vibrant colors, for polka-dots, for possibility, for understanding, for time that can heal wounds. I'm thankful for Nalgene bottles, the Tonoko kids, (who teach me more than I teach them) for the mountains and for the sound that rain makes on the skylights at home. That Grandma Fetzer and Grandma and Grandpa Haglund are still with us. For snow angels. For pearl earrings. For phone calls from Libby and lunches in the Cougareat with the 10th ward. I'm thankful I live in America. That Fridays always come, that the gospel will always be true, that part of my heart still resides in our little house on 9th South, that there is calm after a storm and for the knowledge that what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. I'm thankful for hope.