my 21st birthday

THE 21ST BIRTHDAY POST! Finally. Oy vey, I've been a busy girl: working, reading, socializing, traveling all over the state, planning for the move to Bloomington. And yet, I kept feeling guilty because I hadn't created a post about my 21st. I kind of slipped over it, not knowing how to approach it.

The photos that accumulated over my birthday weekend (July 14-17) were in the hundreds, so plucking a select few for this blog was taxing. Also, I am trying to maintain a somewhat-classy aesthetic here, so the selected photos hopefully retain some level of taste! Ha.

This is Ms. Lexi. I have known Lex since the 6th grade, when I moved to Sun Prairie.  She is impossibly dear to me and I was so pleased to be able to spend my first time at the bars with her!

Maquillage & martinis.

The Library was the third bar I went to in the wee hours of July 15th. Obviously a photo of me standing by the neon green sign was absolutely necessary for a future librarian!

Lots more photos from that night, but as I mentioned before... standards. Also, after awhile, grinning with a new, free alcoholic beverage just starts to look the same, so I'll change it up.

A photo of me about to buy alcohol for the first time the next evening! (A shot sized bottle of UV Cake. Yes, I'm an absolute booze hound, just can't help myself.) Oh, and I'm also purchasing strawberry shortcake ingredients; highly suspect, I know. The police cap is borrowed from Jeff, who was taking the photo--and also holding up the Australia sign in front of me.

Friday night was when I had people coming from out of town to go downtown with me, so the girls glammed up. Katherine, me, Lex, and my old roommate Amy. I adore these girls.

Jeff and I with a fishbowl at Who's On Third?

Much later in the evening: Lex and I posing with a ladies drink free sign. I am really curious as to whether females who benefit from this realize why bars are allowing them to drink free... do they comprehend that it is a ploy to draw men (who will buy drinks) into the bar, hoping to take some drunk chick home with them? It's really eerie to me that this sort of action occurs openly within this drinking culture. It's obviously widespread but as a girl who just got her first taste of the bars it is interesting to ponder.

Ok, so, I love this photo. High-kicking Jeff is going to kill me for posting it, but there's just so much to love: my roommate Dan's supermodel-esque dance poses, Jeff's face and legs that won't even fit in the frame...

Moving on to Saturday night: Cops & Robbers themed party at JohnaLee's house.

I call this look SuperMario meets Reno 911.

JL, divine as always.

Some alluring robbers made it to the party. If you've been reading this blog you'll recognize some familiar faces.

Aaaand Sunday night: Neil finally returned home from his weekend of gigging and we went out to the Popcorn Tavern. The heat wave had commenced and the AC was lovely. He bought me a Spotted Cow and we listened to some music. He then joined in for the second set.

Writing about a four-day span of drinking and socializing is a heady task. These are only snippets; I'm hoping to impart anyone reading with a sense of what my birthday adventures were like via photos. I'd be crazy to attempt to write down every moment. It was certainly a turning point in my summer--because my birthday falls midway through the summer, I knew my time left in La Crosse after my 21st would go quickly. Indeed it has.

Things I learned my birthday weekend:

• I surprised myself with how much I love to dance. I never thought of myself as the dancing type, but I was wild for it. I have a stunning amount of fun on the dance floor. I really loved discovering this about myself, because it makes me feel like less of a stick in the mud. Ever since my birthday weekend I have done a lot of dancing, and I'm usually the last person on the dance floor. 

• Mixed drinks are totally hangover-evasive. I will admit that I have had bad wine drinking experiences in the past, so being completely fine after a full night of significant drinking is really cool. I wasn't hungover at all over the course of the weekend. (I never understood the appeal of getting so drunk that you forget what your night was even like. I think I know myself fairly well be this point. I drink enough water and never go to bed without eating something. Plus I'm sure all that dancing didn't hurt.)

• My criticisms of (some) men and the drinking culture from a feminist perspective are totally warranted. There are varying accounts of what actually happened on Friday night, but one account holds that there was a group of four bro-types (yes I know I rag on them but I have my reasons) following me from bar to bar, waiting to take me home because (as was allegedly told to a male friend of mine who was with my birthday group) "I was cute and it was my 21st so I was going to get really drunk." AKA easy to take advantage of. So they committed to a few hours of stalking lite and followed my group. I do have my reasons for believing it is plausible. If it was true? I did not notice these men following me. Luckily I had a large group with me and I was nowhere near sloppily drunk, but still. Utterly frightening, that this sort of predatory move would be perpetrated by "normal guys." My college peers, no doubt. A little fun, a challenge. After all, what fun are the normal courtship rituals after awhile, right? Let me just ask this: At the end of the night, when they are able to take (let's just say for the sake of this example) me home, my skinny frame stumbling, giggling, no clue what is going on, one of them with their arm around me cupping my ass because I don't even notice in my inebriated state, what then? Who gets to claim the prize? One of them, maybe one who is owed a favor by the other three? Or all four, taking turns? How are the sexual assault victims claimed, the spoils of a hard night's stalking divvied up? What is the protocol that these men follow? -----Maybe four men didn't follow me that night. I have no way of knowing for sure, not anymore. I'm not too fixated on it; it just further reinforces that women need to be careful at all times, especially with alcohol involved. Because even if it didn't happen, it easily could have. It's the kind of thing that weighs heavily on me because I know: I will never be able to not worry. 

I am terrified of having daughters. That's all I will say. But I'm not paralyzed by this disgust and concern--beyond that, I had a lovely birthday weekend. Truly everything I could have hoped it would be. I got to spend time with a creative, bright bunch of people whom I will miss too much in about three short weeks. I will be in another state so soon! It is tough to imagine.

birthday picnic

Because Neil was gigging and out of town for my 21st birthday weekend, he took me on a picnic to celebrate a week later. I love picnics and daytrips and escaping the well-worn pathways I tread through the community --home to work, work to home, home to riverside park, repeat--and going somewhere a bit more out of the ordinary. We packed some food and headed south toward Stoddard after I got done with work about a week ago, stopping at an overlook nestled up against the Mississippi.

Shown above is Betty, Neil's trusty Buick. When I first met Neil, almost five years ago now, I remember thinking, That is the ugliest car I have ever seen, as he pulled into my driveway to pick me up. I've since gained more appreciation for Betty, but I'll never forget my initial repulsion. I'm sorry, Betty.

Neil brought along this scratchy faded-sage blanket for us to sit on. It's functional, sure, but cute? Could it be called cute in any universe? Yes, I'm a snob. I love textiles and I recently bought not one but two functional and cute outdoor blankets, so, eh, I gave him a bit of trouble, asking why he didn't bring my aesthetically pleasing blankets. His response?

"Oops. Well, just take a picture of this one and complain about it on your blog." Said with a slight smile, he knows what will appease me. This cute boy is completely resigned to his fate, I'll tell ya that.

Presents! I was so happy to receive a reusable water bottle because I'm ashamed to say I've been using and refilling disposable water bottles for too long now. I do own a reusable water bottle but have always found it too challenging to wash, so I've avoided using it. Neil has often heard me lamenting the issues I find with all sorts of water bottles we come across, so I'm delighted to say that I love this new gift! Though I'm still searching for my Goo be Gone to get that sticker residue off.

Quote that made me love him more than ever? "What could be more Bri-ish? Removable pads?"

My next present, wrapped artfully in a plastic bag.What could it be?

  



















A cute message from Neil was included with each of my presents. Prior to my birthday I told Neil: "I don't need you to buy me anything; in fact, don't. Save money. All I want is a letter. Or maybe, a lot of letters." At this he saw my eyes light up as he simultaneously shrank back, concerned at the amount of emotional output he would have to expel to satisfy my never-ceasing appetite for the written word. I'm an old-fashioned girl at heart--Facebook wall posts don't exactly do it for me. And while I bug him for letters year-round, one time he definitely can't shirk my request is on my birthday. *Evil cackle*

 Vase from the UW-L ceramics sale!

*A brief note regarding Neil's notes: So, if you don't know Neil you are probably reading the notes he wrote to me and thinking, What is wrong with this guy? Is he educated? Why is he spelling some words weirdly? Eez? Leef? Huh?

Neil is actually a very smart fellow. He scored high honors upon our college graduation while I earned only honors, something I occasionally grumble about. He can make your head spin with his knowledge of religious philosophy and he was accepted to one of the top graduate-level music programs in the country with a scholarship. He is a catch. But to escape the clamor of his intellect, he reverts to a silly, sly self. I noticed years ago that his obsession with capuchin monkeys was growing, and so when he'd run around acting crazy and boyish I christened this new persona Monkey Neil. He loves his nickname (I still refer to him as MN) and proudly reverts to monkeyish behavior at moments. It's quite cute, though I noted about a year ago that all of the letters that I had taken such care to guilt out of him were filled with monkey spelling and grammar, AKA eef, eez, leef, monkeh, etc... I realized that if I didn't reign in the monkeyness, the only non-electronic written record of our relationship would be monkeyfied. Monkey spelling will be hard to explain to my biographers when I'm dead, so I now urge him to keep the monkey outpourings to a minimum with letters.

There you have it! A brief history of Monkey Neil. I know it probably sounds really bizarre.

MN also gave me a Symphony bar (my favorite!) but it was melty. Hence his face.

As you can see, everything was a bit... dewy, lending to the ghoulish appearance I'm sporting. Neil told me to shut my eyes and he handed me this, not letting me open them up til he took a picture.

Recognize this fine feline? It's Monsieur the cat! Told you Neil was obsessed. Cat adoration is not something I have to force on him, unlike much of the rest of our shared life.

  

My last present that I didn't get until last weekend? Two of these beautiful library mugs. I already packed them away, though, as I don't trust anyone in our dirty boy house not to break them :)

Neil rested, post-food.

The dreaded mayflies were out and about as we walked to the car to do a bit more exploring.

About a minute past the overlook we'd picnicked at, we found the area that I'd visited with my grandpa on the way back from the Prairie du Chien flea market last month.You know, the area he designed and everything... no big deal...

Everything was so verdant that it almost looked unreal. We explored in the muggy heat, trampling around the deserted and slightly overgrown paths, pausing for photographs, never sure if the photos we snapped were good or not. You never know until later, but I think we got some good shots.

Doesn't it look like the greenery is engulfing me? That's how it felt to be in the thick of it, too.

As you can see, the monkey/12 year old boy is emerging here.

After uploading the pictures from that day, I also came across a significant amount of shots where my facial expressions were, uh, strikingly similar. The raw, no-holds-barred annoyance I was aiming at my bumbling boyfriend was perfectly preserved.

Please note that these photos were taken about 30 minutes apart from each other. Also note that there were more, but I was afraid people would think I was truly evil if I posted the whole series of them :)

The reason for my perturbed state is that my MN is stunningly similar to my mother in that once he holds a camera in his clutches he waits and waits and waits to snap a picture, like maybe the perfect moment will come after making the subject self-conscious and irritated. In contrast, I snap away, hoping to get lucky with some candids in addition to planning out the ideal moment to snap a picture. With digital cameras, why wait? I expect that 1/6 of the photos taken will be kept, the rest deleted, so I try to train Neil to snap away. These photos were taken when I was waiting, saying, What are you doing?! I'm sure. Or expressing some equally high maintenance sentiment. The crazy is particularly tangible in the second photo, I'd say. Alas, if only it could've captured the nose flare.

What a good boyfriend, taking the abuse, hoisting my bag around.

The end of our exploration, humidity hair having gotten the best of me, but you cannot beat that view.  Oh driftless region, oh, you've made me feel like a Wisconsinite. Finally.

And thus concludes a spectacular day trip facilitated by my charmingly silly and thoughtful boyfriend. We both bring our own brand of insane to the table, but I think we do a good job of tolerating each other, propping each other up, and growing up together. Relationships are messy and challenging and lonely sometimes, but this boy gets me, he really does.

stellar shops: treasures on main

Treasures on Main, located conveniently (for me) near downtown La Crosse, is a little over two blocks away from my house. I've found that it's really soothing for me to just wander in this quiet, calm converted house just to kill time. I've only ever bought a set of 70s-era floral suitcases there during last summer's Maxwell Street days, but I find a lot of inspiration there nevertheless.

Treasures on Main
722 Main St.
La Crosse, WI 54601

One reason why I probably enjoy Treasures on Main so much is that there are always between 4-7 cats inside. The owners rehabilitate abused, abandoned, neglected and special needs cats and find them homes - I've seen every age from mewling kitten to sly adult traipsing about. 

Treasures has three floors of well-organized vintage goods. Let me be your tour guide.

Treasures on Main feels more like a house than a shop, so walking around unbothered lends the feeling of being in an ancient great-aunt's house, one who has random objects filling up each room; the mystery of the objects' origins and uses is incontestable.  

This carnation pink is possibly one of my favorite colors in the world. (This is the seat cushion for a chair.)

While I was wandering in and out of rooms upstairs, I felt something rub up against me. This fellow--Monsieur is what I named him--was the culprit! After spending about 5 minutes wrapped around my ankles, he slinked off elsewhere and I went back to my photographing, distraction-free.

Stout is just such an unflattering word, don't you think? These women don't exactly look "stout" to me...

BAM! I turned around at one point and Monsieur was sitting docilely at the table, looking balefully at me as though he wanted to share a cup of tea with me. It was the most adorable instance of my entire day. I should add that Neil is obsessed with this picture; he even framed it and gave it to me for my birthday! (Interjection - I want a cat so bad. We want a cat so bad.) Eventually Monsieur slunk away again, and I saw him disappear into a cupboard as I continued to explore other rooms.

$20 for this Better Homes and Gardens cookbook? You've got to be kidding me. I collect these BH&G cookbooks, gardening and decorating books from the 60s and I've never paid more than $4 for one. I saw this one for $20 and the same edition downstairs for $30. I also just checked etsy and the going rates for comparable editions were $14, $20, and $30. This makes me feel a bit giddy; I think I should get into the book reselling business! I found many of mine at the library book sale over the past few semesters. A large paper bag of books goes for $4 during the last hour of the sale and that's when I make my purchases, so a good portion of my finds have been 50 cents or less. The others come from Goodwill. My stash is stuck at my house in Sun Prairie for now, but I'm sure they'll make an appearance when Neil and I get to Bloomington.

Next, traversing to the third floor:

There's a small room filled with children's things off to the side and when I stepped into it I almost thought I had been transplanted to a horror film. The dolls were truly petrifying, so, um, sorry I'm exposing you to this!

THAT GRANDMOTHER DOLL WAS THE WORST. Ok, moving on.

Quilts! Nothing exciting to say about them except that they were oh so pretty.

Me rocking some serious humidity hair.

Next I headed down two stories and took a peek around the backyard area, where Treasures on Main keeps all sorts of random items. If I had a garden or backyard area I would love to find uses for these rusty old appliances and junk.

That's about all I have for Treasures on Main today. I feel like it is definitely a place I take for granted because I live so close to it, one that I will remember fondly when I leave La Crosse. It is well-maintained, calm, there are cats, prices are reasonable if you know what you're looking for, the people working there don't follow you around and make you feel like a freaking criminal simply because you want to wander around. Lots of pluses. Go there if you can.