A "Happy Place" Moment

My Uncle and I often talk about "Happy Places". What place makes you feel most happy? Why do you think it makes you so happy?

Recently, I went home for my cousin's graduation. During that time, I was able to make my way up to our hunting camp--a term that most Chicagoans are not even remotely familiar with. Let me paint the picture for you...

We drive down a one-way dirt road for about 40 minutes until we hit a dead end, which brings us to the "yard" of our camp. We pull up to what seems like an endless amount of land and a small little camp with a few garages (and an outhouse) built next to it. I run to our secret spot to find the key, open the heavy door and get a nice fresh breath of camp air! The next step is opening up the giant board that covers the front window...the board the reads "Sorry Black Bear" (you can guess why we have it there.) After hammering the locks open on this door, bats fly out from underneath--surprisingly, something I am used to now. I'm there with three of my best friends and we lug our stuff into the camp--a space made of a "living" room (with a wall covered top to bottom in family pictures), a long room with four bunk beds and a sauna (for yoopers, pronounced "SOW-NAH.)

That's it, I'm in my happy place!

First things first...it's four-wheeling time! When the car is unloaded, we all run to the back garage where the four-wheelers are kept. We give them a little love to be sure they start and off we go! My (awesome) Grandpa built trails upon trails for us kids on his property...and let me tell you, there is nothing like riding through the woods on a four-wheeler. It's my yooper genes coming out...definitely! We ride down to Lake Superior, take a dip in the lake, ride through the river, maybe even make a campfire...everything is so relaxing!

After our four-wheel/beach time, we get back to the camp and make a drink, turn on the country music (the only station allowed at camp) and grab the cards. The next couple hours entail lots of random card games, sitting in front of the fire, making s'mores, dancing to music and lots of smiles! If you have to go the bathroom, you have to pour water down the toilet for it to flush or make your way out to the outhouse. If you need water, you have to turn on the pump (which takes a couple people) and fill up buckets until you have what you need. If you have to heat something up, you better know how to make a fire!

The night ends with a great sauna (again pronounced "SOW-NAH",) laying in the recliner and just taking it all in. We all crawl into the beds in the "Bat Cave", probably sleeping with mice...but we don't care...a great night's sleep is in our future! Before we leave, we sweep the floors and stock up the firewood (picture four girls carrying piles of wood from the stack off to the side of the camp...slivers and injuries have happened.) Every time, before I shut the door, I give a big smile to the place for giving me another weekend of great memories.

It's my happy place!

To city people, you may think I'm crazy. It's definitely a different lifestyle, but it's MY lifestyle and I'm proud of it! I love that one place can make me feel so safe, happy and loved all at once. It brings back family memories and memories I've shared with friends over the years.

Thank you to my Grandpa for giving us a place that makes us all feel so at home! We love it and we love you :)

A Mother's Day Moment

Mother's Day is coming up....and it's the first year I won't get to spend with my mom. To some, it may not seem like a big deal. For me, I would rather be with her than anywhere else.

I am probably one of the luckiest girls alive. Most people think of a "mom" as someone who yells all the time or gets into our business too much. But, while I may have thought that ten years ago, I now appreciate what a great mom I have. I'm one of the lucky ones. My mom is my biggest fan and my biggest supporter.

I've been through some hard times and I can't remember a time when my mom hasn't been there for me.  She has always, no matter what, had my best interest at heart and thought of me first. My mother is the most beautiful, kind-hearted person I have ever known. She thinks of everyone else first and I'm lucky enough to call her my mom.

Now, let's not lie. Yes, she's a clean freak who jumps at a dust bunny she sees from across the room or someone who vacuums right next to us, while Rab and I are napping. But, the truth is, she has been the constant support system I have had for 23 years. She's stronger than I could ever imagine being and she's mine. And for that, I am very thankful.

So, to my mom,
I wouldn't be where I am without you--I am who I am because of what you taught me. I am so proud to call you my mom. You are the most amazing woman I have met and I look up to you with all my heart. I've gone through a lot of ups and downs this year and you've been there through everything. Thank you for being you and thank you for believing in me. I miss not seeing you everyday but I take comfort in the fact that you believe in me and I am so thankful that we have such a great relationship where we talk once a day (sometimes more)--it makes me feel like you are here with me. Words can't describe how thankful I am to have you in my life. I am truly the luckiest girl in the world.

I love you to the moon and back. Happy Mother's Day.

Here are some lyrics to a song that I think describes how I feel about you and how, hopefully, you feel about me <3

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLS0Y40WwlAIn my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes
I am a hero
I am strong and wise
And I know no fear

But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I wanna be
In my daughter's eyes

When she wraps her hand around my finger
It puts a smile in my heart
Everything becomes a little clearer
I realize what life is all about
It's hanging on when your heart has had enough
It's giving more when you feel like giving up
I've seen the light, it's in my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes, I can see the future
A reflection of who I am and what will be
Though she'll grow and someday leave
Maybe raise a family
When I'm gone, I hope you'll see
How happy she made me
I'll be there, in my daughter's eyes

A Serious Moment

Most of the people that I know now, I have known for a very long time. Some of those people I have considered really close friends. In fact, I have considered some of them best friends. Friends to count on in times of need or friends to support me in big moments (like moving to an entirely different city...alone). Unfortunately, things don't always turn out the way we expect. Unfortunately, people we thought would be there, aren't there anymore.

While this may seem like a negative post, it really isn't. To be honest, I think we all go through it. We make big changes...we move on...we grow up. And the big question remains, "Who is going to be there for me?".  While it hurt me, I had to come to the conclusion that someone I truly cared about and someone who I thought I did so much for, just turned on me and pretended like there was never a friendship there. It's not a fun feeling. Trust me, I've spent night after night after night wondering why someone I have always tried to be a good friend to gave up on me so fast...without a second thought.

However, regardless of the cliche, I do believe in the statement, "Everything happens for a reason." Although I can't put my finger on it right now, there is a reason for everything that happened. There is a reason (an unfortunate reason) that this friendship ended; a friendship that had previously lasted head-on competition, many nights with too many cocktails and too many other things.

Moving to Chicago has given me a sense of clarity. Although I miss those who used to know me so well, I am thankful for those who have stuck by me. It's important to recognize those who understood what a hard time I was having when I moved here...those who talked me through it all and gave me confidence in who I had/would become.

Since technically I am suppose to provide some sort of insight in my posts, I will say this...

Moving away from someplace where you felt so comfortable has its disadvantages. It's not all fun and exciting. I wish I could say it were. But, it's hard and unfortunately, you realize that not all your friends will truly stick by you through everything. That's a hard concept. It's something that most people don't want to face.

But once you face that, I promise, it gets better. To me, it's about focusing on those who have been there...those who truly understand what it's like to be a friend, through thick and thin. It's about believing in each other and trusting that with the support of a good friendship, you can make it through anything. I wouldn't have made it through living in this new world of mine without the support of my wonderful family and those friends who chose to stick by me.

Life isn't easy. We all have moments that we aren't proud of and we all wish situations would have ended differently. Everything happens the way it happens, but the way we deal with it is what defines us and shapes us into the people we will become. 

In the end, I’m thankful for all types of friendships. However, I’m most thankful for those friends who have stuck by me because they’ve shaped me into the kind of friend I want to be.

To my close friends, you know who you are <3

A Naive Moment

To me, this next moment I'm about to share was a common mistake--something that could have happened to anyone. Well, needless to say, I was wrong. Within minutes of posting my experience on Facebook, I had about 20 people either commenting or "liking" my status (probably because of the pure stupidity of the situation). That's when I realized it wasn't a common mistake, but a naive small town moment...mixed with slight stupidity, I admit.

Here it goes...you be the judge.

My roommate, Molly, and I decided to make nachos for dinner. While I was at dance, she sends me a text asking me to pick up cheese. Simple task, right? For me, apparently not. I hadn't lived at my house that long and the route was fairly new, as were the nearest grocery stores. Then it clicked. I always pass a Costco on my way home from dance. Problem solved: I'll run in real quick and be home having a glass of wine and delicious nachos in no time.

I turn into the Costco parking lot and rush to find a parking spot. I think to myself, "Man, this place is busy!" I hurry out of my car and scan the building,  only to realize that the front entrance is no where in sight. A couple gets out of their car a few rows over, so I decide to follow them--it was clearly not their first trip to Costco. Without seeming creepy, I walk closely behind them to the other side of the building to the entrance, where they are stopped by a Costco employee. Frustrated that I was held up, I scurry around them and make my way through the store.

I see everything from diapers to TV's to huge boxes of cereal. "Where the hell is the dairy section in this place?" I think to myself, or possibly say out loud, I can't be sure. Finally, all the way in the back of the store (the biggest grocery store I've ever been in!) I see the familiar sight of a grocery store refrigerator. I find the cheese section--the endless stock of cheese. All I wanted was a bag of shredded cheese to top off my nachos. No such luck. So I settle for a big brick of mozzarella cheese (hopefully we have a shredder at home). At this point, I'm so frustrated and annoyed with the complexity of this place that I just want to pay for my cheese and get the hell out of there (that glass...or bottle...of wine is sounding even better by the minute).

I stand in line for what seems like hours. Everyone has carts piled high with everything you could imagine--like the world is ending and your survival depends on how much crap you can leave Costco with. It's finally my turn. I set my measly brick of cheese on the counter and the lady looks at me, as if she's waiting rest of my items.

"That's it," I say, looking back at her with the same look of sassiness she was giving me. "Your membership card," she answers. "I don't have a membership," I reply, my heart starting to pound harder as I realize I am about to look like complete idiot. "You have to have a membership to shop here," the counter lady says, looking more and more annoyed with each passing second. "Okay, how much does it cost?" "$50." "Okay, nevermind," my shaky voice replies as I set the cheese back on the counter and attempt to get to the door as fast as possible. I did manage to catch a glimpse of the guy behind me trying to hold back a smile, his cart piled high with diapers and cleaning supplies (clearly his after work assignment from his wife, but then again, I just walked into Costco trying to buy a block of cheese, so who am I to judge?). I wanted to say, "What are you looking at?" in an attempt to show complete confidence. But, obviously I knew he was looking at a naive girl who just made a complete fool of herself. I would be staring, too.

In my defense, I come from a town where you can shop wherever you damn please. I guess this is the perfect time where the common saying "You're not in Kansas anymore" comes into play. Needless to say, we didn't have cheese for our nachos.

My First Moment

Born and raised in a small town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, moving to Chicago was a change...to say the least.

In the small town of Marquette, everybody knows everybody. Basically, you can't go to a bar or a restaurant without knowing at least half the people in there. Everyone just expects it and in some ways, us small towners actually enjoy that comfort. In Chicago, I'm lucky if I recognize that the bar or restaurant I am going to actually exists. Everything is a new adventure and in some ways, I find a comfort in that as well.

I love my hometown. It definitely has beauty behind it. There is nothing like sitting on the quiet beach of Lake Superior and listening to the waves crash against the shore. I know what you're thinking: there's a lake in Chicago, too. But trust me, it's just not as peaceful (is anything in Chicago?).

Peaceful or not, I've always loved the buzz of the city and I fell in love with Chicago years ago as I was walking through the hustle and bustle of the streets, straining my neck to see the tops of the buildings. It was my dream to move to this city and make my mark on the world. Well, I moved here...let's see if the second part happens.

My roots and my dreams happen to be in two completely different cities, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Walking around the streets of Marquette, everyone (that is, if there is anyone even on the same sidewalk as myself) seems so calm; not in a rush at all. As I look around at the people who walk the streets of Chicago, not only are they walking a million miles a minute, but they all seem to have their shit together. That may not be the case, but Chicagoans sure know how to put on the act. Although I hope to be walking around the city with such confidence someday, I, a girl who has lived here for a mere eight months, am not there yet.

As I was thinking about all these differences, I came to the realization that I can't be the only person in the world to feel this way. And there you have it...my first small town moment. With this blog, I will share my experiences about life, changes and finding my own place in this crazy world. Hopefully my words will be of some inspiration and I can make someone feel like they aren't alone. And if not, it will just be me telling you about the moments I have in this great big city that remind me that I'm still a small town girl from the good ol' U.P.