Historical Donuts Part III: Jr High

Jr. High and unassigned lunchroom seating. I never could have expected the impact this would make on not only who I would become but on who I wouldn't stay. (Profound! Give me a medal!)

The first day of Jr. High is traumatic for everyone. At least, for everyone who is me. I was late to a class (Mr. Gideon the clock in your room was five minutes slow.) And immediately, upon arriving to that class was made the butt of the joke by the teacher. The teacher. Wow! Today, that would be bullying. Especially, since the 29 other kids in the class were desperate trying to home on to some sort of driftwood on the Titanic of Day 1: Jr. High, and Captain History Teacher knew this ocean, he was king of it.

But this is not about the first day of Jr. High. It's about doughnuts. 

Because the lunchroom seating was a free-for-all for the 7th grade students to figure out their own places and with whom to sit. I quickly found myself not as part of the massive cool-girl table that was made up of my former classmates from 6th grade. It wasn't obvious shunning but they didn't care if I was there, and they weren't keen on my new friends that I invited to sit with us. So my new friends and I bailed from that table and formed our own group of four, we ate lunch together every day. 
Looking on that now, it is awesome to have lunch with the same group that you love every day. (Working at the retail store I got the same thing when I was in the design department, the same yahoos everyday.) Part of that group was my new best friend, Jessica. Every day for lunch, she would get the cinnamon sugar mini cake mini donuts for sale in the Snack Bar of the cafeteria. I was never one to even think of those donuts. I usually stuck to foods that were cooler than the 'hot lunch meal of the day' but that also didn't cost a million dollars (sorry, big slice of pizza). Which meant I ate a lot of cold sandwiches from the Snack Bar the beginning of that year. When I discovered the mini-donuts, it was fun; cinnamon sugar on a donut! Never heard of that. And soon the mini0donuts were making a regular appearance on my lunch tray, along with my boring cold sandwiches. We would eat those mini donuts every day. It became a joke, and lunch was never complete with out them

Seventh and eighth grade is marked by my constant eating of those cinnamon mini-donuts. I learned later that sometimes my friends would steal a mini-donut from my tray when I wasn't looking. Even now, far removed from 19--, my friends and I still laugh about the mini-donuts. Because, yes that group of four stayed friends all these years, on the tennis team, through different colleges, different cities and what has become very different lives. We were in each other weddings (well, they haven't been in mine because I am not married but it is assumed [so I guess I will cross that bridge when/if I get to it {I don't know what I think about marriage, let alone bridesmaids}]).

Had I stayed with the group I though I 'belonged' too, the former 6th grade classmates that became the cool girls, I don't think I would have eaten mini-donuts every day.  I don't think I would have even discovered them. I probably would have been very lonely, sitting on the edge of that massive table of budding queens and divas jostling for a place. I am not a very good jostle-er, or jouster, but that is a very different thing.  But this isn't about cinnamon sugar mini donuts, it's about realizing there are other worlds out there, even if you don't know what they are. 

 The is essay is part of a multi-part doughnut essay.

Hisotrical Donuts: Part Two

My doughnut timeline extends through my youth to sixth grade. I was not obsessed with doughnuts. I enjoyed them when they were present and when they were not life continued. Sometimes, I would even forget about doughnuts.

But in sixth grade my best friend planned a surprise birthday party for me. And like most sixth graders she told me about it before hand with the instruction to "act surprised." (This is another essay for later, I have a lot of opinions on surprise parties. Since I am head of the Department of Surprises.)

My birthday came and the not-so-surprising party arrived. I believe this was the start of my acting career, I was a very convincing surprised person. It was a wonderful party, regardless of my prior knowledge of the surprise. But what is even more wonderful than a party thrown for you by your best friend? A doughnut cake. From the Donut Hole (Which no longer exists).

Yes, a doughnut cake.

Don't imagine anything yet. Let me describe it to you.

The doughnut cake was one large fried doughnut, complete with hole and about a foot in diameter. This giant doughnut was glazed, then frosted with chocolate frosting. Got it? OK, listen up, now it gets good. The doughnut was filled with Bavarian Cream filling!!! The doughnut cake defied all rules of what a doughnut should be! It was huge! It had a hole! And cream filling!! It was novel and delicious. The doughnut cake was served by cutting slices, just like you would on a cake that had a whole in the center.

And it was real doughnut! It was cheating by imitating a cake doughnut (nothing against cake doughnuts, but that seems pretty easy to turn into a cake. BECAUSE CAKE IS ALREADY IN ITS NAME!).

I didn't even know the doughnut cake existed when it was presented at my surprise party. And what's more, it was Bavarian Cream, which previously had a reputation of being an adult doughnut flavor. But this was at a kids birthday party. Or, maybe, the presence of the Bavarian Cream meant that I was transition into an adult. This was the same home where the parents enjoyed Bavarian Cream (and swooped them out of the box at the sleepover previously as referenced here.) I was now an adult as I had a Bavarian Cream inspired doughnut presented to me.

Growing up, Doughnut Style.

This is Part Two in my multi-part Historical Donut Series.

Historical Donuts: Part One

Of all the foods in my life, my experience with doughnuts can chart the course of my life.



Part One: Early Doughnut Adopter

Like most people, my first memories of doughnuts is as kid. Sometimes my mom would by a dozen doughnuts on Friday and then on Saturday morning, we would have doughnuts! All varieties too. And almost always, these doughnuts were popped into the microwave to be 'nuked' for a handful of seconds before the frosting slide off from the heat and the jelly became lava.

I also remember the not-super-frequent trips to the Donut Hole, the donut shop in my medium-size North Dakota town. At the Donut Hole, we got to pick out our own doughnuts. There were so many varieties, this is where I started developing my taste of exciting, unfamiliar foods. My mom would try to steer me away from the doughnuts that she though were out of my taste preferences. I don't blame her for this limiting of my pastry exploration; a child with a doughnut they do not like is probably one of the worst pastry related dramas. But at the Donut Hole, that is where I met my true love: Bavarian Cream. Initially, Bavarian Cream was a doughnut deemed too sophisticated for my taste, as evidenced by my mom suggesting I get a Bismarck if I wanted a filled doughnut. But I knew jelly-filled is no match for pudding-like cream filling of the Bavarian Cream. When those white pastry boxes would show up in our fridge I would search through for Bavarian Cream, biting into decoy doughnuts that contained no filling. My disappointment of finding just more doughnut was staggering (not really) but did not dissuade me from the search. I have eaten many bites of the chocolate frosted doughnut look-a-likes in my search for Bavarian Cream. I remember being at a slumber party where doughnuts were provided for breakfast. I saw two Bavarian Creams sitting in the box and my thrid grade heart swelled, but as soon as doughnut choosing time happened the father scooped his hand in and removed the two Bavarian Creams stating "These are parent donuts."

Why does it seem that Bavarian Cream has an adult reputation? I would argue it is the most kid-friendly of all the doughnuts. First, chocolate frosting. Chocolate frosting is recognizable, familiar and consistently delicious. Second, the round shape provides more frosting surface area and it also a familiar shape. Third, pudding cream filling. Pudding is one of the classic treats for kids. The pudding filled donut is more palatable that the jelly filled Bismarck, especially since the Bismarck tends to have a harsher jelly, which is unlike any jelly a child would have experienced in a PB & J.

The Bavarian Cream is not an adult doughnut. Also, not all kids have the same tastes. And, the more you say 'no' to something, the more I (and your children) will want it.

Bavarian Cream is my favorite doughnut. Do not try to get between my true love doughnut and I.

This is Part One of a multi-part series.

Hates. (Warning: The word moist is all over this)

I don't care about the word moist.

But I know you probably hate it. Or if you don't hate it (which I doubt), you know someone who hates the word or you know someone who is grossed out by it.

Oh, you don't know anyone like that?

That's because you know someone who is so passionately grossed out by the word moist, someone who hates moist so much they will cover their ears in its presence as if the intangible word, moist, will crawl up the side of their neck and stick its orally moistened finger into their ear and scoop out the moist living tissue inside.

People hate the word moist. But I say: get over it.

Cue: angry mob of moist hating people waiting to shout at me.

(This angry mob doesn't realize that I just need to shout the word moist at them and they will be powerless.)

Yes, moist is not the prettiest sounding word. Nor does it conjure up images of sturdy, green meadows or some benign something else.

Sure, being moist isn't the best feeling on a person or on anything else. (Except a moist towelette, those are awesome and the phrase moist towelette is a good combo. Nice work, towelette, at taking a chance on a despised word.)

Here's an article by David Pescovitz that addresses why people hate the word moist. (Hello David! I assumed you have a Google alert out on your name! Welcome to my blog!)

It's just a word. And a really stupid word at that, it is an adjective. An adjective! Adjectives are mainly useless, all they do is describe things when usually the noun they are describing can takes care of itself.

People, if you are going to be afraid of a word, at least make is a noun (murderer, snakes, spikes) or a verb (falling, bleeding, apologizing).

Moist is so, so....so obvious. But really non-threatening. Moist is a halfway word. When something is moist it really is just slightly more than damp, definitively not wet or soaking, which are more frigthening states of being. Nor is it dry or dehydrated--also scary. It's a halfway word, moist is non-committal, middle of the road, mediocre. Are you going to let a sort of word like that control your emotions?

Free yourself from your hate of moist. Be powerful, don't let a small word like moist keep you down.

Do you think you can empower yourself to not be affected by a five letter word?

Really?

Then here goes:

Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist, Moist.


This blog was brought to you by my most hated word: lyceum.


Ah gross, lyceum, get off the page!

You can't control the Music, it controls you

After running a highly accurate and official survey, results have determined that the most common Facebook or Twitter complaint during this time of year is about retail stores' Christmas music and how much it annoys the typer.

I am the anomaly in these results. I worked in a retail store for five holiday seasons, the same retail store, that played a set of sixteen holiday songs over and over.

Let me say this again: for five holiday seasons I heard the same sixteen (16) holiday songs on average of 40 hours a week.

I never got sick of those songs.

I loved the chance to learn all the words and timing of each tune. Being able to sing my way through helping pissed off customers into having possibly a slighting less (or more) pissed off day by being helped by a singing employee.

That's false. I didn't even pay attention when I was singing the limited line-up of holiday songs. And let's be truthful, I already knew the words to most of the songs. So did my fellow co-workers. We all knew the various arrangements of Santa Baby and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Some people would curse and scream on Black Friday, not at the hordes of people trying to save $20 by shortening their life span by stressing themselves out to shop on Black Friday. They would curse at the first hearing of the annual holiday music.

But we couldn't control the music.

Eventually, instead of resisting the holiday music and we couldn't control, a calm meditative peace settled over the store. Or at least over me. There is a freedom knowing that you know all the words to the next song, a power in not using any energy to subconsciously identify the next song in your brain (the way your brain is constantly identifying things. Imagine a thrift store, brain recognizes work over time in there.)

Plus, most holiday songs are upbeat and happy. Which puts everyone in a good mood. Even people who say they hate the holiday music, you will notice those are the same people that hate lots of things. Which means hating things is one of the hobbies that they enjoy, therefore hating holiday music makes them happy!

But let's stay on the point. Most holiday songs are happy....except the Christmas Shoes. (Which is such an emotional song that it was made into a Made for TV movie featuring Rob Lowe.)

Ah! A sad song about a kid with a dying mother and new shoes for Jesus.

Thankfully, this song was not one of the 16 that I have cememted in my brain as my holiday soundtrack for like.

To be honest, I think I have only heard The Christmas Shoes once in it's entirety. What I know of the songs comes from friends who were late because they "Got Christmas Shoe-ed" in the car. Because apparently the song will take you by surprise and then lock you in to a frozen zone of weeping, like Medusa and her snake hair but instead of being turned into stone you turn into an emotional monster. People after hearing the Christmas Shoes can be identified by the frozen tear tracks on their face and a sudden need to give their shoes to someone, anyone!

Most people find coping mechanisima for The Christmas Shoes; seasoned Christmas Shoe-ers can recognize the first notes of the song and turn it off before it sucks you in, other people just start talking loudly to distract from the song plays.

But other people will shout "It's the Christmas Shoes!" and run away, leaving unsuspecting victims to wonder what that nutjob meant and listen to the song, therefore getting themselves sucked into the quicksand of music and sadness.

Most people survive a Christmas Shoes attack, however, no one recovers completely, scare left on a surviving listener is the person always telling you that they heard the Christmas Shoes that one time and holiday music has never been the same.

Beware the Christmas Shoes.

Living with SPAM

I am so embarrassed. I knew it was wrong but it felt so good, I didn’t even think about protection. It’s like everyone says, I didn’t think it would happen to me. But now I have to live with the results.

There is no cure. Only maintanence. But even with constant vigilance, there still are flare-ups.

My email address has been spammed.

And I know the exact moment it happened. And I blame Facebook.

On Facebook one of my Facebook friends had ‘claimed’ an offer from Southwest airlines for two free tickets. “Only 100 available”

And because my Facebook cohort had done it (and I like to have fantasies of constantly needing to fly around the country), I clicked on the ad. Then the ad asked me to fill out my contact information ( in order to redeem by free tickets), which I did using my favorite email address (instead of my dummy account that I used for garbage such as this). RED FLAG, HEATHER! But it was for free airline tickets, I whined back to myself. Once I had told the internet all my contact info  and clicked the “Claim your free tickets” button, I was taken to another page that said “Almost there, not claim three of these offers and the tickets will be yours!” What? I had to claim other offers for things like “Free trial subscriptions to Blockbuster” or “Take four surveys about your credit history” in order to get my free airline tickets on an airline that doesn’t even do assigned seating. (Or at least didn’t do that when I last few on Southwest a two summers ago, the do this whole single service seating thing.) It was on this page when I realized that this was a bad idea (finally!), so I left the page abandoning my free tickets.

I silently patted myself on the back for exiting the clear scam. But then I remembered:

I HAD ALREADY TOLD THIS SPAMMING COMPANY ALL MY INFORMATION!

And within 30 minutes of my false victory, I was spammed. From every angle and every stripe but mainly emails, texts and phone calls. Phone calls! Who calls on the phone anymore? My number has been on the Do Not Call List since 2005 (Truth, I checked). Now, I am scrambling to mark all these emails about home loans and dating seniors as spam and send them to the spam government thing. (spam@uce.gov, that’s the address they are the spam stoppers! Report stuff to them!). Why do these spammers think that I am both a single senior, puny muscle seeking wimp, looking to secure a home loan, get out of foreclose and meet playful marrieds in my area? And let’s not forget all the ways I can enlarge my penis!

I am creating new filters by the dozens, but spammers are infinite. I can’t make enough filters to get my head above the spam infested waters.

I know there is a solution. A cure.

Switch email accounts.

I have been with this email address for over ten years and have been able to keep it squeaky clean for that long. Until, one moment of stupid passion for a deal that I didn’t even get!

And now I have to abandon it.

My email has an STD. The only cure is to cut it off.

President movies that I want to make!!

Dear Avid Readers of my blog,

You all know by now that I have had the most presidential year (if not, you can catch up on that blog here.) Well, my year of presidential pageantry continues with a viewing of LINCOLN last night, featuring one of my favorite actors Daniel Day-Lewis. Even more presidential, I saw the show with the cast of 44 plays for 44 presidents, which made it even more awesome. Especially when I wanted to keep singing the Lincoln song from the play during the movie. 

So I am not going to review the movie here because HOW CAN YOU REVIEW DANIEL DAY-LEWIS? 

However, I am going to suggest that the Hollywood elves make the movie DAY-LEWIS, which would be awesome because it would be Daniel Day-Lewis' life story and then the movie would mainly be about Daniel preparing for all of his amazing roles: My Left Foot, Gangs of New York , Lincoln. There are other movies but I don't want to type them all. Also the DAY-LEWIS movie would show what Daniel does when he is not making movies which is BEING A COBBLER.

So I am waiting for that movie to exits. I'll write it.

Also I would like Daniel Day-Lewis to star in FORD. The Gerald Ford movie. Before Ford was president he was a MODEL!!!

Check it:

That's Gerald Ford on the cover of Cosmo. He was the first man ever to be on the cover of Cosmopolitan Magazine and he accidentally became president!

This will be the best movie ever. I'll write this one too.

The Turkey Trot 5k!

Some times you just have to run a 5K on Thanksgiving morning.

And when I say "Sometimes you have to run" I mean, sometimes you have to dress up in a tu-tu and trot slowly around downtown Minneapolis on Thanksgiving morning.

Which is what I did:

The Turkey Trot is super fun. And is a franchise race (I don't know if that is the a real term, but I am too lazy to really look it up.) so there are lots of them in lots of places in lots of areas of the country. This one was sponsored by Lifetime Fitness. Which I am not a member of, but I still got to trot in their turkey race, along with 20,000 other trotters.

But let's stop talking about that and let's start talking about my tu-tu. The tu-tu's were Brooke's idea, well she texted me and said she was going to make a turkey tu-tu for the run and I texted back "I already have one." Because I do, during my time as a burlesque performer, I do a number involving a brownish colorful tu-tu and ta-da, the perfect tu-tu for the Turkey Trot.

Instagram makes everything better, much like cream cheese.

Our tu-tus were a huge hit amongst the trotters, many of whom were wearing pilgrim outfits, turkey hats and some anachronistic costumes like Godzilla and Dr. Seuss' Thing 1 and Thing 2. There were a number of other trotters in tu-tus but none as colorful and full of body as mine (I am pretty much a professional tutu maker, the largest one I have hardly fits into a giant IKEA, I have to stomp it in.).

I very much enjoyed seeing all the dogs that had signed up for the 5K and I liked it even more when the dogs were in costume. One family had a great look going where to two adults were dressed as pilgrims and there dog was the turkey! Well done!

At the end of the race is almost a party; hot coca, fruit, yogurt, candy, free stuff from various vendors and the general feeling of looking forward to the Thanksgiving meal and knowing that you already burned a lot of calories today and you really can be a couch potato all day and feel accomplished because you did the Turkey Trot.

This was my first year taking part in this event, I do want to do it again, however, this is Minnesota. Yesterday was and awesome 60 degrees for trotting, some Thankgivings are less that than in temperature-wise, but it is only 5K and it is super fun.

So, we'll see if I am up for it next year. It will depend on the weather, not my ability to make a tu-tu that simulates feathers.

Heather out.

A Thanksgiving Post Not About What You Think

Using the most sophisitcated of statistics 120% of all tweets, Facebook posts and blogs today will be about Thanksgiving.

Today, is also the world championship match of food status updates and tweets. I'll probably tweet about that later.

But I (at least on this blog) will not be bringing you any Thanksgiving tips or turkey tricks. Or how to convince your Uncle Henry to stop slapping the wall. Nor will I tell you that black olives are the best part of Thanksgiving and putting them on the tips of your fingers is indeed the proper way to eat them. I will not share with you my family's tradition of lighting a bayberry candle (Wait, that is Christmas.) I am not going to point out that I think we should eat stuffing every single day of the year, and why should something so delicious be eaten only once a year and why doesn't someone open a stuffing only restaurant in Minneapolis? I am not going to post about how I am or am not participating in Black Friday. Nor will I go into detail about former career in retail. I am not going to talk about pilgrims. At least, not today.



Instead, I bring you a memory of last year's Thanksgiving:

The terrible, horrible, frightening, yet alluring pig squirrel of Loring Park in Minneapolis.

  

What is this creature?????




Happy Thanksgiving.

Grapple Apples and ideas for more

Right now, I am eating a Grapple Apple. Are you confused as to what that is? If you are a visitor to the produce section of your grocery store, you probably are not confused. But if you are a non-fruit eater, let me explain what I know.

In the apple section of the grocery store, there's is usually a four pack of apples. On this four pack is a label, it says GRAPPLE. These are the Grapple Apples.

Buy it. Take it home.

Smell it. (I supposed you could also smell it in the store.)

Isn't the smell amazing.

Yup, it does smell like grapes. Grapple apples smell and taste like grapes. But they are apples! I know!

I don't really like apples. (Don't tell the Honeycrisp apples that, sometimes I do get into those.)

But I was feeling particularily adventurous last night beating the Thanksgiving eve-eve crowds, so I bought some Grapples.

I totally expected it to be a genetically modified food.

But it is just a normal apple. That tastes like concord grapes. (If you have never had concord grapes go now and find some they will blow your mind. [I recently discovered these this summer. {however, concord grapes have a weird ratio of seeds to size of fruit, I won't tell, you but it's the trade off of such amazing grapes.}]). 

Concord grape flavor apples? What?

Yup. That is exactly what they are. And as a non-apple eater, I was really into it. Since I was digging them so much I went to their website because I was doubtful that such feats of fruit engineering could be true.

But it is! Grapple Apples were even featured on an episode of Unwrapped. I watched the video and the grape infusing process doesn't add anything bad to the apple. It's just a grape bath!

I know some people that could be improved by a grape bath.

This fruit magic made me think of other things apples could taste like:

Beefpple: The beef flavored apple.

Crapple: The cranberry flavored apple. Great for keeping doctors away from Thanksgiving.

Lemonapple: Lemonade flavor apple. Sweet and sour, perfect for an infusion of fiber on a hot summer day.

Briepple: The Brie cheese flavored apple, for the fancy pants in you.

Pearapple: Finally the marriage between apples and pears will be complete.

Wapple: Even more water than before.

Pineapple: What? Doesn't this already exits? Nope, not like this. The infusion of pine in to apple.

Ok, world make these apples come true. Let me know if you need more ideas. I could keep going but there are three other Grapples in my fridge that I want to eat before I go to work.

Credit Card Fraud

What would you buy on iTunes for $107.76? That's a hard one, isn't it? That one hundred and seven dollars and seventy-six cents. That is a lot of money for intangible things like, anything off of iTunes.

The most I have ever spent was on the most recent released season of Breaking Bad. I bought this because I am too impatient for it to be released on Netflix, but even that cost just $21.99. And that was in September.

In July, I spend ten dollars on iTunes purchasing music for my 2012 MN Fringe show, Merblades: Memoirs of a James Cameron. The irony with that is, of the five sound cues in the show, all of them were the same song (My Heart Will Go On). My pre and post show music was pretty amazing though.

So that is $31.99 that I had spent on iTunes for all of 2012. Why then, did I have a charge on my credit card for $107.76 from iTunes. I wondered maybe I had a media buying binge one evening. I searched through my shallow iTunes on my computer and found nothing worth that much money. One could priced out every single music or TV show I have on iTunes and the whole total would not come out to be more that $107.76. Unless, of course, you are pricing my original homemade videos at their correct price: priceless. But I assume you are not because Bryan Cranston doesn't star in them.

Even more curious, I didn't have a receipt in my email from iTunes, graciously thanking me for spending a Benjamin and some change with them.

$107.76. There is only one explanation for this.

My cat has learned to use the internet. It could see this coming for a long time now. I would find cat hair in between the keyboard. On more than one occasion, I would share my lap with my large tabby cat and my laptop computer. In these intimate lap sessions, I knew my cat was paying attention to the computer. I could tell he was trying to act all nonchalant and cat like, but he ended up be just chalant enough for me to figure it all out.

When I got to work, my cat gets on the internet and orders hundreds of dollars of things on the internet. The explanation of this lack of new media in my dusty iTunes accounts can only mean that my cat as a separate iSomething device that he downloads his music and movies too. And he must also have a separate email account that the receipts are sent to. I am living with a thief and a hacker! He must be stopped. Do they have feline controls for the internet?

At least, I figured out who's being using my credit card: my cat.


IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED ME TO THINK CREDIT CARD THIEF?


Yes, yes it was. Fortunately, I only thought that for like a minute, then I called my credit card company and shut down my card.

So, yup. My credit card info was stolen and used to buy crap on iTunes. At least, I can hope that they bought some good stuff.

Age is not a Trampoline

Want to feel old?

Visit a trampoline park.

Last night, I was surprised and delighted (surpriselighted) to find myself on an adventure to Zero Gravity Trampoline Park. A trampoline park is an indoor warehouse space outfitted with millions (OK, twenties) of small trampolines attached to make a floor that you can run and bounce on.

It was really exciting.

Don't tell my mom. My mom is very anti-trampoline. She worked as a pediatric physical therapist and saw lots children paralysed from improper trampoline activity.

So I had her voice in my head the whole 60 (90) minutes of jumping fun. I also quickly found out that she was right and trampolines are deathtraps. Especially for adults.

Trampoline parks are designed for small, flexible 50 pound bodies to flit from one bounce pad to another with the grace of that stupid plastic bag on the wind in American Beauty. You put at adult out there and the whole world changes into American Psycho (minus Christian Bale). Adults are hard, rigid and heavy; they turn each trampoline pad into a cocked slingshot, ready to splat their old bodies across the nearest cement object. In addition to the increased stress on each trampoline, each jump area is surrounded by padded pipes where the trampolines are connected and because an adult takes up more space than a six year old, adults are that much closer to these thinly padded pipes. These padded pipes will kill you if you land on them, trip over them or get your feet trapped under; all of these things I managed to do. But even with this inevitable broken ankle looming in my near future, I couldn't help myself from jumping. ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS JUMP. All of my childhood deprivation of trampolines was let out now. My mom couldn't stop me here. I was in Mounds View, Minnesota, no one knows where that is! I am free! Free to bounce off the walls (yes, the walls are trampolines.) I am king of the tramp! Bouncing! Bouncing! Get out of my way, kid! This is my bounce area. Only one person per trampoline, kid! Oh yeah? I can run too. Watch! Oof, it is hard to run on trampolines. My legs are longer, kid, someday you'll see. Running! Running! Running! Tripping! Running! Falling? Wait, what is this liquid on my head? Am I bleeding? Don't tell my mom? Oh, it's just sweat, pouring from every pore of my body. How am I so sweaty? And out of breath? I've only been here for five minutes. Is that a side ache? No? OK, just checking. I better stop for a moment.

Wow, I didn't know I had muscles there. Why are my hips so sore? So much sweat. Oof, that's my back.

What's that? A FOAM PIT I CAN TRAMPOLINE INTO! Here I go, jumping into the pit of foam cubes! Flop. Ha, ha, ha! So fun. Let's do it again. Wait, I can't move. I am just sinking deeper into the foam cubes. How are those kids running on top of them like Legolas? Slow down, I can hardly move. I am a grown-up! Foam cubes can't keep me down! Why is this like quicksand? I feel like Poseidon emerging from the ocean, if the ocean was made of pudding and Poseidon was non-buoyant 32-year old Midwesterner.

I  tried to flail my legs free from the cubes as air assaults of flying children flew all around me. My legs were acting like there ware attached to different bodies. And each of those bodies did not want to work together to exit the foam pit. I wriggled and wraggled (new word, take that Shakespeare). The cubes sucked me in harder, like that woven finger trap from grade school. The cubes will not keep me down. I just needed to keep my head up, I couldn't let it go beneath the cubes, no one knows what is down there. Swim the cubes, Heather! Swim them like you have never sum cubes before. Umm? Self, I never have swum cubes before. Heather, just do it. My sweat was beginning to lubricate the cubes so I could pass by them easily. Finally, this adult body is working for me. There's the edge of the pit! Now, just to heft myself out. Come on triceps, don't fail me now.........OK, how about I do a combination of life/belly roll out. Yes!  That's what I call the upward squeeze! I belly flopped to the side of the tramp and pulled my betraying body from the foam cubes, if I ever was in possession of gracefulness this was not the moment that it was exhibited. I had conquered the foam pit, it wasn't pretty but it was conquered. Trampoline park, you can't keep me down. Age is just a number!

Hey? What are you doing? One person on the tramp at a time. Don't get so close! Hey!

Who pushed me back in the foam cubes?

I will rise again! (In about twenty minutes)

Hula hooping at the roller derby

Sometimes I don't know how I get involved with things. Hula-hooping at halftime at the North Star Roller girls, however, was not one of those times. I agreed and planned to be a part of the halftime entertainment at the North Star Roller Girl's Bout 2 "Lei'd Out on the Track." It was a luau themed bout, so of course they needed hula dancers (real ones) and hula-hoopers (mainly real ones and then there was me.)

I got involved with this magical event, through a friend who is a very accomplished hooper, she was organizing the halftime hula hoop dance party and needed more hoopers. As someone who is always up for a chance to do something weird, I said yes, even though my hooping skills have not developed past grade 1 (even though I started hooping two years ago). She said it didn't matter how good I was, they just wanted fun people on the track. Well, I can do that. Oh, she added, and dress for a luau. That I can do!

I spend most of yesterday planning my luau outfit instead of sharpening my hooping skills. I also took a lot of time to apply bronzer to my legs and even longer removing most of it when I got overzealous and ended up looking like a third place Olympic medal on my knees. I even wore giant fish earrings, I had two lei (I don't know the plural if lei. Leis? Leies? Leix? Leia?), and a bikini with a scarf wrap. I as so ready for this.

Cleaning up at the MCAD Art Sale

Since this was a dance party, the audience was invited to hoop on the track with us. So extra hoops were needed. Fortunately, yesterday was the last day of the MCAD art sale, where I had hoops for sale. I swooped by the end of the sale and grabbed my unsold hoops and was ready to spin crazy at the Minneapolis Convention Center (where the derby girls skate).

A North Star Roller Girl Bout is part sport, part biker bar and all parts party. Instead of warming up and practicing for halftime, I did what any hipster would do and took photos (This is incorrect, a hipster would Instagram instead of take photos.).


 Like this:

Look at how fast they are going! Zooom!

We also learned it is important not to spill your beer on the track. It is dangerous to the skaters (also a party foul). If you do spill beer, you have to get the attention of Moppa Mia and she will come and clean it up. I bet she will make fun of you too, this is an event that has Jeerleaders, so they aren't going to coddle you.

This next photo is of Laura. She's the one in the middle, this one is also blurry because of how fast she is going. Watch out!












When I wasn't watching the bout, I was taking other pictures. Still not practicing my limited hooping skills. I posed and took this photo:

Which I think is awesome because the roof of the convention center is circular and Laura (not derby Laura, hooper Laura) was hooping beneath it. Yeah, I win the photography award of the year.

Notice I am still not practicing my hooping.

Halftime finally happened and it as a total dance-o-rama! Dudes and duddetes flooded the track, LED hoops were lit, children were running around and Elvss gave me a high five and a compliment. I swtiched between perfroming the two tricks I knew to pretending to invent new moves to being a hostess when total newbies eagerly approached the track. I found that if I set them up with the basics, they thought I was an expert!

And my clothes stayed on! (I was worried my bikini would become untied because of all of the hooping, not because I have a tendency to rip my clothes off in public. [hmm...there might be proof that disagrees with this statement]).

So that was performing at halftime at the roller derby.

Now to go practice my hooping tricks.

Hand Turkey Gallery

For your Saturday viewing pleasure please step into the limited time exhibit of North American Hand Turkeys. Please select an audio guide from the table and press the corresponding buttons to hear more about each piece. Press "1" now to hear about the history of the North American Hand Turkey.

1.

The North American Hand Turkey is an indigenous species to North America, almost exclusively found in the United States. The species was developed shortly after the event "The First Thanksgiving" to both commemorate and communicate information about such an event. The hand turkey is often found in flocks, most frequently around schools. However, a solo hand turkey is not an uncommon sight. Today, in this gallery, you will see two of such solo hand turkeys.

Press "2" to hear about the first turkey in this exhibit.

2.

This hand turkey is an unconventional hand turkey. You can see it is found on top of a pizza box. This is most irregular as hand turkeys are usually found 8 1/2 by 11 paper or on construction paper. Controversy has erupted in the art and biological world as to whether this particular bird is even a member of the hand turkey species. Experts have agreed that this example is a hand turkey due to the roughly hand shape of the animal, though purists resist this assessment saying the bird is more like a hand eagle because of the apparent flight this bird may be on, due to speed at which it's finger feathers are in the wind. As you can see the spine feathers of this bird seem, ruffled as if this bird was fleeing an attack, or perhaps suffering from an illness, disease or development disorder. These suspicions of ill health in this bird supports the unusual location in which this bird was found.

Press "3" to hear about the second turkey in this exhibit.

3.

Now, here is an excellent classic example of the North American Hand Turkey. Note the strong, finger feather spread of this specimen. This bird also exhibits the classic autumnal colors of a hand turkey: orange and brown, though reds and yellows are common as well. Rainbow hand turkeys are also frequently spotted and a delight to the avid hand turkey watcher. More striking about this example is the pilgrim hat that this turkey is wearing. Hand turkeys enjoy wearing pilgrim gear and can even be found wearing bonnets (on the female hand turkeys) and buckles shoes (on both genders.) The buckle hat on this bird clearly indicates a male and the word cloud tells us that this is an older bird. Mature hand turkeys do develop speaking ability usually saying "Happy Thanksgiving."  This hand turkey is speaking English and wishing "Florian" a happy thanksgiving. This is highly unorthodox, as Florian is German who is living in Austria right now. It seems as if this hand turkey is on a migration to Europe. Very unusual. Perhaps this bird is bringing goodwill as an ambassador of the hand turkeys? Maybe the hand turkey civilization has advanced so far that they have a government and are looking to gain allies in non-hand turkey settle countries? Are the hand turkeys looking to start a war? Does our government have a plan to deal with the inevitable take over by hand turkeys? Should we stock up on buckle hats, shoes and bonnets now?

Dear hand turkeys, please be gentle.

-Your loyal follower.


Press "4" to hear the conclusion of this exhibit.

4.

Thank you for visiting the limited run of the North American Hand Turkey gallery. Please leave your audio guide at the door and visit the gift shop, where all the proceeds from today's purchases will be donated to the fight against the hand turkey invasion fund.

It's 3am, let's wake up and ride monster bikes

The things I do in the wee cold and dark hours on a Friday morning. What's the thing you would least expect me to be doing from 4am to 6am this morning?

Fighting polar bears?

Nope, even more unexpected.

Dancing with polar bears?

Come on, think unexpected.

Surprising polar bears with a homemade birthday card?

No, enough with the bears. I'll just tell you.

Touchy about the bears.

Stop it!

Ok. Already this morning, I have ridden a PedalPub for two hours. From 4am to 6am as part of Spare Key's Pedal to the Max fundraiser. They hosted a 24hr continues PedalPub (no alcohol, however) ride. My team's shirt was the wee hours of the morning. Which means I got up at 3am to find my way to the magical world of Lilydale, MN (it has a name that evokes whimsy and is almost impossible to find, just like a pixie).

My team was fun and happy and the treats were plentiful and all frozen. We were pedaling! We felt powerful! We had Cheetos! And we were freezing! Middle November mornings in Minnesota are cold, I thought I had worn enough layers, but what I have come to learn is that there is never enough layers. Halfway through our ride, I slipped some toe warmers into my shoes. I hoped this would relieve the numbness of the top of my feet. But no, the toe warmers didn't start warming my feet until I was on my way up the stairs to my apartment at 6:30am AFTER I RETURNED HOME from the ride.

However, our legs did get a good work out for the day. It was fun waving to all the cars that passed us. I hoped they thought that we were a bachelor party gone on way to long. Some cars honked at us when we waved. Others drove by so fast you could almost feel the driver covering the side of her or his face to avoid us recognizing them.

As our enthusasum for our early morning adventure waned so did our energy. At 4am, you don't really think abotu breakfast and the slim jims and energy drinks provided by the organizers weren't really doing it so we were running out of pedaling energy. By 5:45am we were ready to be off the bike and hand it off to the 6am crew.

Now if you are an astute reader of my blog, you will know this is the second 24hr fundraiser event I have participating in in less than 48 hours. On the 13th at 11:30pm I was part of the Huge Improv Theater Improvathon to raise money for Give to the Max Day and today was Pedal to the Max for Spare Key. Excellent observation, you.

This is also the second time in two weeks (and in my entire life) that I have been a part of a new worl record. The first world record I was a part of was on election night, where our production of the Neo-Futurist's play 44 Plays for 44 Presidents along with 44+ other productions, broke the world record for most productions of the same play happening on the same day. Woo!

Today's record was for world's longest PedalPub ride, but we didn't see anyone from Guinness there so we think it might be unoffocial. Unless, the Guinees representative was hiding in a warm car, becuase for sure no one wanted to stand out by the cold coffee (not on purpose).

So that is today. Already, I feel very accomplished. But I still have to go to work.

What? I though biking a giant machine around for two hours was work?

Nope, that was volunteer.