If Home Is Where the Heart Is, Then I Have Three

                 Friday morning found me driving down I-44, dreaming away the miles to the Oklahoma border.  Swing music streamed to my radio from my iPhone, my cat snoozed in her carrier next to me, and I practiced counting to six in half beats as the road signs counted down to zero for me.

                For the first time in ten years, I went to the Lake for Memorial Day.  Recognizing this, I spent part of the drive thinking about what home is.  For me, I have three. 

                My first home and my heart’s home is Oklahoma.  I grew up in the cities of Oklahoma, but was tempered by summers on the lakes.  When I first decided to return to the Midwest, Oklahoma was my first choice for family.

                My last home was Alaska.  I spent almost ten years in the Last Frontier, enjoying the wildflowers of summer, and doing my best to appreciate the winters (I’m not exactly the alpine skiing, snow machining, ice-fishing type).  The friendships I formed there were strong, girlfriends who were there for me whether I needed them or not, and guy friends who made me feel beautiful and appreciated, even if it was just by throwing me around on a jiu-jitsu mat for a few minutes.

                My current home is St. Louis.  I’ll admit that as of today, St. Louis is still only my home because it is where I live, but I’ve only been here two months.  As much of St. Louis as I have seen, I’m still finding my place- be it swing dancing, martial arts, running, or just hanging out, I’m still figuring out where I belong in this great big city.

                As the miles passed by on Friday traveling from one home to another, I thought about these three homes.  Soon, I’ll only have two as my Alaska home fades to a fond heart’s memory rather than part of my identity.   I know my friends will be there, but not for dinner and coffee and jiu-jitsu five nights a week.

                Over time, St. Louis will become my life’s home, as I make connections and friends.  It just takes time and patience.  I have more of one than the other, but I’ll get by.

                In the end, Oklahoma will always be my childhood home and my heart’s home.  While St. Louis is a six hour drive from the Lake, it is an easy trip to make.  For the first time in years, I spent Memorial Day weekend with my family, picking peaches and making pie, hanging out on the deck and visiting for hours, driving around the Lake just for the joy ride, and wandering through flea markets looking for the good deals we probably didn't need anyway.  Life is good- complete with fresh peaches and tart cherry pie.

Reclaiming the 80's

I’ve spent the last couple of days seriously considering the possibility that I have lost my mind; or, as is more likely, the last several months have been a transformative experience, one in which I can create for myself a new life and a new self where I am not constrained by the expectations of others.  But what has brought on this sudden bout of personal introspection?

Thursday, I signed up to run in a 5K. 

Me?  Run?  HA!

A year ago, running was a form of torture perpetrated on me by my Jiu-Jitsu instructors (though they would probably disagree with that assessment).  Even six months ago, I would have looked at someone jogging and panting and sweating by the side of the road and wondered why they thought that was a good way to spend a Friday evening.  However, in the last few months, I’ve started making use of the treadmill in my apartment complex since I’m pretty sure I’m paying a premium for that privilege.

This brings us to last Thursday when, on a lark, I signed up for today’s Benton Park Reclaiming the 80’s 5K. And what a lark it was.  What do you remember most about the eighties?

For me, when it came to “costume” ideas, it was the wild sunglasses, ponytails on the side of the head, bangs hair-sprayed six inches tall, and knotted hems in t-shirts.  All of these were out in force this morning, along with knee socks, the ankle socks that you turned down to show the cute lace on the cuff, t-shirts with the collar cut out to hang off the shoulder for the girls, and t-shirts cut across the midriff for the guys. 

There were a couple of stand-outs in the costumes.

My favorite was the guy wearing the Atari jacket.  At first, I thought he was also wearing a yellow motorcycle helmet until I got a closer look at it and realized that it was really a plush pac-man hat.  I guess his head was the ghost…  However, I can’t make too much fun of him, because for the short portion of the race where we shared the street (saying we ran together would be a gross misrepresentation of what occurred), he was apparently running backwards to check on one of his friends.  I think, like some canines I have had the pleasure of hiking with, he ran eight or nine kilometers during the race rather than the designated course length of 5km. 

In another flashback to the best of the eighties, one of the race organizers was wearing a Ghostbusters costume- complete with inflatable proton pack weapon.  Where some of the participants went with the worst of the eighties (knee socks with running shorts?), this guy went with one of the best things to come out of the decade – The Ghostbusters.  Adam Sandler has nothing on Bill Murray or Dan Aykryod.  That movie still makes me laugh.

As for the race itself, I will spare you to pitiful details of my own performance.  Let’s just say that it is somewhat humbling to have someone almost twice my age finish in roughly half my time.  However, at the start of the race, it was really cool to see the wave of people cascading down the road in front of me and know that I was part of the fun.  At the end, my calves are sore, my feet have a new collection of blisters, and I lost three pounds in water weight, but I had a great time doing it.  Maybe running isn’t such a crazy thing after all.

Benton Park:  http://www.bpnastl.org/

The IMDB page for The Ghostbusters: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087332/

Art in the Park

                Every time I drive down I-44, I see a sign for Tulsa and I smile.  I’m close enough to home that the road signs point the direction for me.  I also see a sign for the Laumeier Sculpture Park and think to myself “I should stop some day and check it out.”

                Today, I went to the annual Art Fair at the sculpture park.  Of all the art fairs I have been to over the years, from the May Fest on the streets of downtown Tulsa to the Forest Fair under the towering birch of Girdwood, Alaska, the Laumeier Sculpture Park was one of the more befitting settings I have seen. 

Sculptures liberally decorate the park, from a mosaiced cat that greets you at the entrance to mammoth steel edifices that tower over the grassy lawns.  An enormous eyeball reminded me of those awful gumballs you see at Halloween but seemed to hold great interest for the little boys at the fair with their parents. 

The Art Fair was delightful with a very good mix of media and style.  My favorites included the photography exhibitors (as usual); I bought a print from Marty Hulsebos of Aspen trees taken looking up at the sky through the canopy of leaves.  I also enjoyed the various art glass booths, and was tempted to buy Mom a new garden globe.  Mom did get a new present, but since I’m pretty sure that she’ll read this before she gets it, I won’t spoil the surprise….

One booth completely unexpected booth featured embroidery.  These weren't pillows and napkins, they weren’t counted cross-stitch, and there wasn’t a single sampler in sight.  Each item was a finely rendered, delicately stitched piece of artwork.  From ten feet away, they looked like paintings of birds and flowers.  Until I was standing right in front of them, I didn’t realize that they were painstakingly stitched by hand. 

As this was a juried fair, the variety and style of different jewelry was fantastic.  From artglass creations to outlandish pearl collars to a variety of different metal working techniques, each artist had a unique perspective to offer.  At one booth, I wondered if the artist had done quilling before she took up metal working because the pieces had a distinct resemblance to that unique type of paper craft.  At another booth, the gal created her own beads from river pebbles and worked them into pendants and earrings.

A bit of sun, a pair of earrings, and a new photo for my pin cushion walls later, and I would say that my day at the sculpture park was a success.

The Laumeier Sculpture Park: http://laumeiersculpturepark.org/

Marty Hulsebos Photography: http://martyhulsebos.com/

Note:  A big shout-out to The St. Louis Transplants for their gathering at the Art Fair today; I wouldn’t have known about the Fair otherwise and their gathering made for a very pleasant afternoon.  http://www.stltransplants.com/

Bonus Post: Sunday Night Swing

                Yesterday, while enjoying my hamburger and fries at the Kirkwood Station Brewing Co, an unassuming flyer for Swing Dancing caught my eye.  “Make New Friends”, it promised.  “Beginners Welcome!”

                Now, I have done a lot of Tap, and a bit of Ballroom, but since I graduated from high school, the only boogieing that I have done has been in the privacy of my own home.  This has probably saved us all from a great deal of arhythmic embarrassment.  But, I’m still trying to find my niche, and if I have one fear for myself, it is that I will settle into a routine of going to work, coming home, watching reruns, and doing nothing else.

                So, I shoved my introverted self in a closet (well, I tried to but it came along for the ride anyway) and went dancing this evening.

                The evening was delightful.  Yes, I still have two left feet, and I can’t keep a beat if I tried.  But, the company more than made up for it. 

                The evening began with a class.  I was the only beginner in the group, so I had an excellent student teacher ratio.  My teacher was Rich, a very nice guy who has more patience in his pinky than I have found in my lifetime.  We went through the basic steps for Imperial Swing, and, without music, I could keep up just fine. 

                Afterward, a gal name Sue claimed me as an orphaned puppy and spent the rest of the evening scoping out dance partners for me.  I danced maybe a half dozen songs, but more than that, actually got to meet some friendly people.  Okay, so on the dance floor, I probably looked like the Stork from Robin Hood, but all of my partners were very understanding that it was my first night. 

The best dance was with a guy named Ron, who for the most part kept me in a frame rather than trying to twirl me around (well, what fun is Swing without twirling).  With that frame, it was easy for me to keep track of the beat, even if we did spend the whole dance talking.  There was also a lot less pressure because I didn’t have to figure out which direction he was trying to go; we were just walking (admittedly at an odd rhythm for walking) and talking. 

In the end, the flyer hit it on the nose.  The South Side Imperial Dance Club is delighted to have a new face, no matter how little you know about Swing, and they were definitely willing to welcome a new friend into their circle.

                Their next dance is May 20; I already have my calendar marked.

South Side Imperial Dance Club: http://www.southsidedance.org/

There Were No Aliens at Area 51

Let me start this by stating that there were no Aliens at Area 51.  I looked.  I was hoping.  I didn’t even find a good conspiracy theory to go along with it, unless you count the Jack Russell Terrier that was busy inspecting all of the merchandise before it could be put into the display cases.  However, if you are looking for a glass pipe, a hookah, or one of those off color t-shirts that Spike wears in Notting Hill, Area 51 is your store.

There is nothing wrong with head shops, as long as you don’t inhale.  However, this particular store does not have the eclectic fun of Oz in Tulsa, or the humorously skanky clothing of The Look in Anchorage.  There are no beaded curtains, no psychedelic posters, and it has a nonexistent selection of Alien paraphernalia.  They did have a nice selection of incense, some interesting candle holders, and a precocious Jack Russell Terrier.  But I think I will have to keep looking to find my new source for conspiracy theorists, brass candle sticks, and miscellaneous kitsch that never quite seems to find a home in my home, but I buy anyway.

In my disappointment, I digress from the important part of this post— hamburgers and fries.

I have now found two restaurants where I can get delicious burgers and fries. 

The first is Five Guys Burgers and Fries.  They serve delicious hot hamburgers, made to order and fast along with homemade French fries.  I didn’t actually check out the kitchen, but I am pretty sure that the fries are cut fresh, and they were definitely not put under a heat lamp until served.  I had to eat my hamburger first, the fries were so hot.  As for the hamburger, when you don’t have the option of grilling up your own, it is the closest thing to heaven.  Apparently, Five Guys is a national chain, but hey, I’ve been living in the wilds of Alaska for the last ten years; we were just thrilled to have a Dairy Queen.

I found the second burger place yesterday after I was hit with a case of the munchies following my visit to Area 51 (hey, it was 3pm and I’d skipped lunch!).  The Kirkwood Station Restaurant and Brewing Co. is a local restaurant and bar off of Kirkwood Road.  They had live music set up on the outdoor patio during the afternoon.  Many people took advantage of the beautiful weather by sitting out and enjoying the sunshine and brew.  While I can’t speak to the brew, I can say that my Basil Pesto Burger was delicious.  It came out medium-rare, just like I like it, and the steak fries were all the starchy goodness that a steak fry should be.  Not to mention that the open air patio offered lots of opportunity to people watch while enjoying the music.

So, while there may not be Aliens at Area 51, we at least have confirmation that good burgers can be found in St. Louis. 

Area 51: 6925 Gravois Avenue  St. Louis, MO 63116

Kirkwood Station Brewing Co.: http://kirkwoodstationbrewing.com/

Five Guys Burgers and Fries: http://www.fiveguys.com/

Winning is in the Cards

                Sometimes, the best thing you can do is make another person happy – even if just for a few hours.

                Last week, the CEO of my firm gave me his tickets to the Cardinals- well sort of.  When he doesn’t use his tickets, he raffles them off within the firm and I won.  This is a small miracle in and of itself since I didn’t put my name in the hat because I didn’t think I would have someone to go with.  After a bit of confusion and angst, I realized that I am a resourceful and capable person; I could find someone to go with.  In fact, there was that nice guy over on the trading desk…

                To make a long story short, at 6:15 on Friday evening I headed to the MetroLink station with the nice guy from trading, who for the purposes of this, we’ll call Frank.  Despite a rainy afternoon, the sky was clear blue- perfect for a walk through downtown Clayton.  Frank and I made good time and arrived at the MetroLink station just at the train was arriving.  We raced across a foot bridge and down some steps to catch it just as the doors were closing.  Our perfect timing at the Metro station was rewarded when we arrived at Busch Stadium just as they were singing the National Anthem. 

                We collected our free t-shirts and made our way down to our seats.  I’d been told that they were great seats, but I didn’t believe it until we were sitting there.  We were just off the third base line, seven rows back from the dugout.  The sunset lit up the Arch just to the left of the scoreboard.  We were close enough to the field to hear the ball when it hit the catcher’s mitt.  The whole time, Frank kept up a running commentary about the Stadium and local area.  He apparently loves coming to ball games, even though he isn’t a rabid sports fanatic – which made him a perfect companion.  His biggest excitement about the game was getting to have Nachos. 

                The game started off with a groan when the Milwaukee Brewers got the first run of the game.  That didn’t last long.  The Cardinals came back with a vengeance in the second inning.  Halfway through the top of the third inning, the Brewers replaced their starting pitcher, which is apparently a very, very bad thing.  The poor guy walked off the field with his shoulders slumped in defeat.  At the end of the third inning, the Cardinals were winning 10-1.  Frank made the observation that at least in Basketball and Football if you are getting stomped by your opposition, the clock will eventually run out; in Baseball, an inning runs as long as it has to.

                Frank held out through the fourth and part way through the fifth innings before he finally broke down and went to get Nachos.  The salty crunchiness of the chips, combined with the velvety gooiness of the cheese and tangy jalapenos made the wait worth it.  No beer, no pretzels or hotdogs, just Nachos, that was all that was needed to make that evening complete- especially for Frank who was more excited to be there than the little kids in the stands with us.

                While it was obvious that the Brewers weren’t going to stage a comeback, we stayed until the sweet end of the game, complete with fireworks! 

                In the end, I am so happy that I invited Frank to share the evening with me.  He was an easy companion to talk to and hang out with, and he was so thrilled to go to the game, that I can’t imagine anyone else appreciating it more than him.

Music and Sunshine on Delmar

                What do Maya Angelou,  Mary Engelbreit, and Harry Caray all have in common?  More on that later.

                On a clear sunny day, with a slight breeze, and just warm enough that you don’t need a jacket, you don’t stay inside reading, or knitting, or alphabetizing your novels after sorting them by genre.  I will admit to doing any or all of these on sunny days in the past, but, well, that was the past.

                Today, I was on a mission- a failed mission as it were, but if all of my failures were this enjoyable, I’d spend a lot more time seeing what would happen.  As you may recall, last week I mentioned driving through the Delmar Loop area.  Well, this week, I have a project going for which I need some art supplies.  So I headed over to Blick’s Art Supply on Delmar, fed two hours worth of quarters into the parking meter and went for a walk.

                On a beautiful day like today, Delmar bustles with people and energy.  There were street musicians busking between the shops, mostly younger guys with guitars, but one older guy played a trumpet whose clear notes floated up and down the street.  As I was passing him the first time, a man walking by tried to get his girlfriend to dance to the smooth jazz beat, but she was mortified that he wanted to dance in front of a street musician.  For myself, I was reminded of a trip I took to DC in the eighth grade, where our tour guide gave a dollar to a homeless man playing a plastic flute.  My guide said that he never gave money to the beggars, but he was happy to help out someone who made the day a little brighter.

                The shops themselves were an eclectic mix.  From a chic little resale shop called Re-Designz, that sells retro furniture and funky jewelry, to a fantastic jewelry shop called the Silver Lady, which is going to get a lot of business from me in the future.  I bought a cool silver ring there, and his selection of jewelry is diverse, affordable, and fabulous.  The proprietor loves to talk about the jewelry and the artists who made it.  I also found a wonderful independent bookstore called Subterranean Books.  I was expecting a used book store, but this is a vibrant and lively store with a unique collection of new books.  Subterranean Books is not the type of place that you go when you want to buy a book, it is the kind of store where you can find something new to read.

                Finally there are restaurants, most of which on days like today turn into sidewalk cafes.  You can’t walk more than 100 feet without having to navigate through a maze of tables and chairs, which even at 4pm in the afternoon were filled with people enjoying the sunshine with their nosh.

                In the end, between doing a little shopping, a little eating, and a lot of enjoying of the fresh air, I never did quite make it to Blick's Art Supply...

                So what do Maya Angelou, Mary Engelbreit, and Harry Caray have to do with this?  Up and down Delmar runs the St. Louis Walk of Fame honoring local celebrities.  All three scions of St. Louis have the distinction of being celebrated with their own star.

Blick's Art Supply:  http://www.dickblick.com/

Re-Deisgnz: http://www.re-designz.net/

The Silver Lady: http://www.thesilver-lady.com/

Subterranean Books: http://store.subbooks.com/