Back by Scotchclub Demand: Mixtape Exchange 2012

Dear 29,
It's back. And in pink. The mixtape exchange. This year I vow to find a speedy matching system and to remind each participant, at least twice, to actually mail your mixtape buddy that coveted CD of 2012's greatest hits.

Here are the rules (AGAIN):
1- Email me at xo.lp.blog@gmail.com your name + mailing address by January 4th if you'd like to participate.

2- You will receive an email with the name + mailing address of your mixtape buddy by January 11th.

3- Pull together your favorite tracks of 2012 and make your playlist.
    3a- One song per artist please (Bat for Lashes had a couple good tracks this year, but stick to only putting Laura on your disc. Or just one song per artist.)
    3b- Try to compile a list that's about 60 minutes long. Bonus discs are nice too, but at least one hour of rocking will delight your mixtape buddy.
    3c- All songs should be from 2012. (Try to stick to this. It's a great challenge.)

4- Burn your mixtape on a CD. (Not a cassette Andy) 

5- Send out your carefully packaged 2012 mixtape to your buddy by January 31st. 
(Seriously. Send it out. That's what makes this fun.)

Check out these sites if you need some inspiring lists of 2012's best:
NPR, Paste, Rolling Stone, Pretty Much Amazing, Indie Music Filter and Greg will surely post one soon...

Now get mixin.
xo-LP

A giant Yesvember wrap up

Dear 29,
I did such a great job keeping track of Yesvember successes, but a terrible job of sharing them with you, loyal readers.
1. Yoga (Off a good start in the "less stress" mission)
2. Play a board game
3. Celebrate Black Friday Market Day success

Seriously. It was an incredible day. Thanks DSM.

4. Cook a turkey for my first (sad) Palmer family-less Thankgiving

I actually cooked that gleaming bird.

5. Start training for that pull-up (ish)
6. Perfect a mulled wine recipe
7. Send 9 letters written in cursive
8. Bake a pie

That's me screenprinting a onesie. Very focused. Thanks Sara.

9. Yoga (worth adding twice)
10. Vote
11. Renew my passport
12. Find another use for dried shrimp
13. Shoot a gun
14. Host the second annual XO-LP Holiday open house

15. Read a book  (I read TWO. Gasp)
16. Craft a holiday decoration
17. Watch an episode of Twin Peaks
18. Try this Zumba thing
19. Watch the sun rise and set. Both in one day.
20. Walking taco night part two (Served Walking Tacos to two great people who had NEVER heard of walking tacos.)

21. Fish (I can't believe this is on the list either)
22. Research new postcard retail locations
23. Yoga (hey. why not. relaxing list items are tough to come up with)
24. Find a reason to wear the gown again
25. Photobooth

26. Meditate again, oh, and write about it
27. See the Moberg Gallery
28. Eat at Chucks, finally (the amaretto cookies. oh man)

29. Cross the Center Street Bridge.

Still didn't cross that bridge. Maybe it's just not meant to be.
Onto December.
xo-LP

...

Dear 29,
I'm still here. Yesvember has been a long one.
xo-LP

Yesvember, Round 3.

Dear 29,
I must be a crazy person, but yes, we're bringing it back. Yesvember.

Time out for a bigtime Happy 21st Birthday to Janer!

First let me point out that Yesvember is apparently a real thing for more people than just me. I'd like to think I personally started something, but I'm betting the Urban Dictionary defined it before I did.
When I was a young 27, the Yesvember was a great plan. I had all the energy in the world. Last year, at 28, the list was pretty well executed but I'm sure I napped a lot more. This year's mid-year list has been hand crafted to provide less stress, zero nerve pain and maybe, just maybe, be the first Yesvember where I don't freak out for not crossing the Center Street Bridge.

29 challenges. 31 days. One month of Yes. Bring it.
1. Yoga (Off a good start in the "less stress" mission)
2. Play a board game
3. Celebrate Black Friday Market Day success
4. Cook a turkey for my first (sad) Palmer family-less Thankgiving
5. Start training for that pull-up
6. Perfect a mulled wine recipe
7. Send 9 letters written in cursive
8. Bake a pie
9. Yoga (worth adding twice)
10. Vote
11. Renew my passport
12. Find another use for dried shrimp
13. Shoot a gun
14. Host the second annual XO-LP Holiday open house
15. Read a book
16. Craft a holiday decoration
17. Watch an episode of Twin Peaks
18. Try this Zumba thing
19. Watch the sun rise and set. Both in one day.
20. Walking taco night part two
21. Fish (I can't believe this is on the list either)
22. Research new postcard retail locations
23. Yoga (hey. why not. relaxing list items are tough to come up with)
24. Find a reason to wear the gown again
25. Photobooth
26. Meditate again, oh, and write about it
27. See the Moberg Gallery
28. Eat at Chucks, finally
29. Cross the Center Street Bridge.

That should keep me pretty busy this month. Like really busy with yoga and baking and getting up early. Let's do this. Yesvember. Go.
xo-LP

Thai one on: a working title

Dear 29,
Anthony moved. It's very sad, but also super great for him. (Hi Tone) In your honor, I made authentic pad thai. (Anthony tells me it's pronounced "pod thai" and that "pad" isn't the correct way to say it. I still said "pad thai" while cooking. Sorry Anthony. The new pronunciation is pretty tough to get used to my friend.)

This quest to cook authentic pad thai (I'm assuming Alton Brown's recipe is authentic. I hope it was.) came out of a hungry conversation on a car ride back to DSM from Muskie. Thai Flavors was closed. Ridiculous considering the internet said they were open until 8pm on Sundays. And poof: I decided I needed to cook thai food. Real thai food.

I made two trips to the local Asian Market after forgetting to buy "salted radish." I had to google a whole lot of these ingredients. Salted Radish, for example, is actually dried, salted radish, as the package says. Should have probably been able to figure that one out myself.

Tamarind Concentrate is super tart and made from the pods from the tree featured on the packaging. Palm sugar is tasty, just so you know, and I am using it in my coffee daily. (The coffee made in my new Keurig. Which I technically bought for a Christmas gift for someone else, but kept at my home to "try it out for awhile." Generosity.) 

I've now given this recipe a go twice. And I'm definitely learning a lot about the individual ingredients, especially how they smell. Whew. A few things to know about pad thai and the "authentic recipe" that might help you:
- It smells terrible at first. Like run the fan above the stove terrible. Then it starts to smell delicious. I promise. You will think you failed, but you didn't. Keep going.
- Wok. You should use one. I didn't, and wish I did.
- Drink a Thai beer while cooking to bolster your courage. I recommend Singha.
- Salted Radish is a good substitute for Salted Cabbage.
- Snip up the dried shrimp into tiny little bits. You'll be happy you did.
- This is worth repeating. Don't smell the fish sauce + tamarind + rice vinegar + palm sugar mix.
- Make sure you have some sriracha for your dinner date in case they want to add a lil spice.
- You'll have enough of the ingredients to try this recipe a few times.

Anthony. I hope you're proud. 

xo-LP

Go Go Month October!

Dear 29,
Back in April I wrote "The next race I'll be ready for."  
So in early summer, when it was announced that The Color Run was coming to Des Moines in October, I thought "oh hey let's run three times a week and get fit so you don't embarrass yourself while running through powder color clouds with everyone you know in Des Moines." I also thought "summer is probably going to go really slow." And then I thought "you'll have so much time to do everything you want to do this summer like blog, read everything Rob Sheffield* writes while keeping up on new gems in the music world, and shoot off at least four confetti cannons."

It was ok. My race buddy from 5k #1 jogged along with me.

But then it was September. So I thought "man summer was gulped up as fast as I watched Gossip Girl season 4." And then I thought "well dude, if you watched less Gossip Girl you'd probably have had more time to run."

And then, well then it was October 5th. The night before the race. And I sipped a moscow mule at the Alpine thinking "Looks like you're going to run a race again in the most awesomely unprepared way. Better get to bed, dude."

But hey I did it. Ran through a fine powder rainbow mist. The Color Run kicked off one seriously colorful month of October. Chelsea and I donned full spandex-blend suits and wore socks to a party last night. As evidenced by the photo below, we were some pretty serious power rangers. Go Go!

A super night. Now. I have to get back to Gossip Girl. And my second attempt at Pad Thai**. And Sleigh Bells.

xo-LP

*Dear Rob Sheffield, I know I haven't mentioned you in a blog post in a long time. 

**There's a draft blog post I've been writing called Thai one on. Expect it to be published eventually. Along with a post from three months ago about the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. And one called "Tramps." At least one of them will end up on the blog.

#stoopgarden: a summer in review.

Dear 29,
This autumn weather has been a bit of a roller coaster. The #stoopgarden and I experienced some real mood swings. I thought I'd have some wise life lesson to share at the end of this growing season, but actually I have a whole lot of pesto instead.

Back in May, these sweet little plants were purchased because, well honestly, I was in need of something that would need my attention. (I'm a nurturer. Or annoyingly attentive. Depends on who you ask.) And it was either buy a little husky red tomoto plant or a husky red puppy and since I'm still not sure I even like dogs that much*, plants won out. With rosemary, thyme, that husky red, some basil, oh and this trifecta of herbs I bought on a whim the #stoopgarden was born.

You read that right. I needed a project. This is a fairly common problem for me, the need for something that consumes me, and these plants became an obsession. Maybe you know this if you follow xolp on the instagram. My apologies to the followers, but #stoopgarden happened, like a lot. I know it seems silly to say aloud, but I felt like I mothered my sweet little plant. Occasionally I worried I wasn't feeding it enough, I felt delighted when it outgrew it's terrible metal planter and once in awhile I feared my first red tomatoes would be snacked on by a hungry can collector. Very motherly.

When those first tomatoes sprouted I snapped like 37 photos to show anyone who was near my iphone. Just like a mom, or at least like a proud mom with an iphone.

The summer of #stoopgarden-ing wasn't without it's challenges. There was this drought happening which seriously effected my great state and my little garden. There was a windy storm that broke that thriving husky red nearly in half. And until "real tomato stakes" were purchased (from a craft store) I used skewers and embroidery floss to keep it standing. The plant fell down the stoop. That was a rough one, especially because I was convinced it was #stoopgarden sabotage.

A week or so ago the first freeze was forecasted so I lugged the plants inside and reverently stripped them of their basil, parsley, greek basil, chives and green tomatoes. (You might notice there was no rosemary and no thyme. That's because metal pots are stupid. And plants go to die in them.) The tomatoes are still ripening in a paper bag, a trick that actually works and seems like magic. The parsley and basil have been frozen into cubes of pesto. And I feel like I accomplished something. I kept it alive, I ate some food I grew myself, and I felt pretty great about it. 

This is the last post about the #stoopgarden. We grew a lot this summer. Both of us.

xo-LP

*PETA: Because you read this, obviously, please consider this my apology for the animal dis. I just haven't taken a super liking to animals. We Palmers had a couple fish, RIP Flora and Fauna, and a Roscoe, the cat my dad once told me offed himself after he realized the fourth kid born into the house was another girl. He's buried beneath the pear tree. That tree was struck by lightening. Or maybe hit by a heavy wind. And it SURVIVED. Coincidence? Just sayin.

A grown up journey to sappytown.

Dear 29,
It occurred to me this past week, on a big kid trip to Muscatine, after a grown up week at work, during an adult type evening of making shredded pork stew and watching the news, I'm 29. I should know, clearly, considering it's you, age 29, that I'm writing this slightly-less-than-world-famous blog to. (I tried rewriting that sentence without ending with a preposition. Another mature decision.) Being a grown up is kind of hard.

This photo was taken so long ago. Like at least 2.5 years. 26 was ages ago.

They don't tell you this when you are 17, practicing your graduation speech in your football-kicker-boyfriend's car, thinking how cool it'll be when he becomes a professional soccer player/cool teacher and you are "doing something art related" in a city bigger than eastern Iowa at age 23, because clearly by then you'll be ready to settle down, have enough money to drive a Honda with a CD player, spend time with fancy people sipping wine spritzers and picking wall colors for that extra room in the single-family home you own that you've been referring to as the "someday for a baby" room.

Here's the face of that fantasy. My mom made me put on mascara that day.

I can say, wholeheartedly, that I am damn happy that little dream didn't come true, other than the Honda (score), but really, why did I think at 23 I'd have it all figured out? Did Mrs. Larry teach that in 8th grade home-ec (do they still teach home-ec) when she showed me not only how to whip up pudding pops and sew a bag I'd use to hold my disc-man, but also to balance my checkbook? Because I firmly believed my life would be rich with well, riches and babies and handholding in the HyVee before this blog was even a twinkle in my eye.

This is really what 23 looks like at Thanksgiving with your cool sisters.

They should really teach you (no offense to you personally Mrs. Larry) that by 23 you'll mostly feel confused about how to style your hair to make you look still 23, but also be taken seriously as a professional. You'll wish your family lived a little closer, drink cheaply during happy hour at West Des Moines bars, work later than you want to at the office and struggle to find friends in a new city without lecture halls and force-fed study groups. You'll feel tired a lot, wish you could afford cable, get pumped when your window unit air conditioner actually cools your living room and live 3 months with lamps that don't have shades on them. 

Oh dude, college was awesome. So few grown up responsibilities, so many nights at the Sports Column in matching shirts and one-dollar-you-call-its.

But you know what Mrs. Larry* also doesn't teach you? (Come on, make a guess here while scrolling past yet another photo of me. I'm sure you're are sick of those by now, but I'm making a point here.)

Who knew I'd be in Mexico at 24? Bet I couldn't have done that if I was maintaining that single-family home, I mean I probably could (lots of people do it) but believe me, I wouldn't have, I know me by now.

Mrs. Larry doesn't teach you that even if you are prone to worry about everything and enjoy drawing out your monthly calendar on the first of the month (wake up wake up) so that you can memorize your schedule, you really can't plan exactly what will happen after those moments in your high school boyfriend's super sweet Monte Carlo. (I think that's the name of a car) I'm constantly surprised, mostly in the good kind of way, by how great my post-23 life has turned out.

Getting old is kind of hard, true. You have to pay for your contact lenses (an astigmatism- pain in the ass and expensive). There are budgets and difficult work meetings about goals and outcomes and you have to keep in touch with your sisters via gchat and you'll start fishing even though you don't feel outdoorsy. But 29 has been more fun than 23 ever could have been and more fun than my 17 year old self ever, ever had. (I think this blog post just took a turn toward sappytown**.)

Fishing in Muscatine. Lived 20ish years of life there and this was my first time.

As a grown up there are dance parties and dinner parties and nights where you can watch the Voice in oversized tshirts while eating risotto (because you're a grown up who knows how to make risotto) and sipping petite sirah (because you're a grown up who can legally buy booze and knows how to ask for the best tasting, but cheapest bottle of red.) There are scotch clubs as a grown up. Come on. My fluffy headed, nerdy 17 year old wouldn't have known how to even imagine a future with scotch clubs.
I think what I'm trying to say here (I know, you're wondering where this is going) is that while I might not have lived out the visions I had for my adult life, my life is indeed full of riches.
Being a grown up is kind of hard. But being a grown up is also kind of awesome.
xo-LP

*Seriously Mrs. Larry I'm sorry for using your name so much. I don't know what you're up to now but I wish you well. I'm sure you've retired and don't park in front of my parents' house anymore and I can guarantee you don't read this blog, but you are being honored in this post. You taught me to use a sewing machine, what Junior Achievement is and how to make some delicious microwave granola. Thanks for being a teacher, Mrs. Larry.
**Sappytown isn't a place I like to ride into on the blog, but hey, we all have introspective moments. And if you aren't part of that "we all" you probably don't read this blog anyway. So it's ok.

Do you remember September?

Dear 29,
I loved last September. I put out a bunch of good vibes into the universe and was repaid with a month of awesome. This year, I think the universe just swallowed September up or to put it less dramatically, geesh this month went fast.

To summarize 2012's speediest month to date, let's recap:
- I danced at two weddings.
- Visited my grandparents' Dairy Queen at 1:30am.
- I caught my biggest fish yet. Oh and it had a mustache.
- I got acupuncture.
- I gave three speeches, Sara gave more than that, and we celebrated her 30th, and then I solo-semi-crashed a wedding.
- Sipped a dirty martini in a bank vault.
- I drew farm animals with my favorite four year old.
- Then we scotch club-ed.

Tonight Des Moines bids farewell to the infamous Anthony. At one point in time his family believed we'd get married in Thailand, so clearly this is a sad, but celebratory, occasion for me and the city. I'll miss you Tone.
xo-LP

Mar and Wildcat.

Dear 29,
My family is probably more fun than yours.
No offense, but it's probably true. Mar and Wildcat are the coolest and as my dear friends Blake and Joanne get married this weekend, I can't help but think Labor Day weekend weddings must be something special.

This is Blake and Joanne. Handsome couple. Big wedding ahead.

Mar and Den got married September 4, 1976. There were lace sleeves and a family style dining experience was had by all. I wasn't there, but I can assume there was a lot of dancing.

Just to be clear, they are wearing clothes in this photo, which is my favorite of them.

I can say honestly that I didn't always think my family was more fun than yours. In fact I probably thought life was good to go at this point: one kid, first birthday, mom rocking a great hair cut, dad sippin an old style, me looking cute. If a one year old kid can form complete thoughts, I was thinking "man this is awesome."

A few years later there was another girl Palmer, then another, then another, and my dreams of being an only child probably increased (Jen, Kate and Jane: when I was fourteen I probably didn't like you as much as I do now, but when you were 12, 8 and 6, you probably didn't like me much either). We fought over who had to sit in the middle seat all managed to survive in a house with one shower, and grew up with smart, creative parents. Today I can't think of three ladies I like more than my sisters. (They might be more fun than your sisters. No offense.) We make a pretty amazing karaoke team.

They karaoke well too. Take note Jo and Blake. The couple that sings together stays together.

I can't wait to see a whole bunch of Palmers next week (see you soon K3) because my family is probably more fun than your family. No offense.

Wishing Mar and Wildcat a Happy 36th Wedding Anniversary.

And to Blake and Jo-- may your marriage be as much of an adventure as Mar and Wildcat's continues to be. These two taught me how to love fiercely, forgive (even when you don't want to), to fight for it and have a hell of a lot of fun. I wish the same thing for you.
xo-LP

Girl Talk all to myself.

Dear 29,
It wasn't exactly all to myself. But it sure felt like it. Too bad I didn't put "see Girl Talk with approximately 180 other people" on the list. Would have checked that off.

On Monday I saw Girl Talk at the historic Surf Ballroom.

A friend of a friend of a friend (maybe of a friend of a friend) extended an invite to a concert won through a contest or something. There were very few details shared about how this happened, but it did. And poof. We're in Clear Lake on a Monday (despite a packed Tuesday ahead of us all) dancing in the confetti at what Greg Gillis himself called his "most intimate show since 2004."

It was pretty amazing. As you can see from the photos both above and below, I had a super time. And held handfuls of confetti. And stood close enough to the Girl Talk that I could have reached out and pinched his cheek or, something less weird like high five him.

This post is primarily to make me feel really cool. Girl Talk.
xo-LP

Shamelessly self promoting.

Dear 29,
I finally stocked the Etsy site. So here's the shameless plug: POSTCARDS.

Look at that. A note that perfectly describes how you feel about your lovebug (it's annoying how much you are sweet on them? This is the postcard for you) and a cake themed note sending great day wishes.

I can't believe it either, but with September just about ten days away, it's nearly fall. And wouldn't you know it, I have a pun for that.
Stop by and check it out: http://ljpalmer.etsy.com
xo-LP

On a dark and stormy May 23rd.

Dear 29,

Writing about yourself is hard.

What? I write a blog completely about myself. This should be easy. The problem is, I write about the awesome parts of life: holding snakes outside the Iowa State Fair, the time I was in a band (aka played a tambourine in a riot of rhythm) or that post I keep trying to pen about Fifty Shades of Grey. Rarely does one have to write about accomplishments, jobs, board participation, and other things people aren't (normally) anxious to brag about.

How much is too much to say? Am I basically turning my resume into a short story rather than a list? Wouldn’t my bio be better in haiku form?

Laura Palmer is

Lover of art and good puns

And dancing a lot

(Not great. Needs work. Maybe a limerick.)

There once was a girl from Muskie.

Who at times felt a little bit huskie.

She dances while she cooks.

She pitches sales hooks.

And she liked when the night got all dusky.

(Terrible really. But in a funny terrible way.)

I have been asked for a “short bio” for three different purposes in the last month (no. It’s not because I’m cool, clearly, but because I got a new job, and a new board position and because Market Day is awesome.) I’m finally getting pushed to complete it, so I just started writing. I’m fairly certain the new gig doesn’t want to publish this exact version, but I do, obviously.

After 7 years at Drake, LP (age 29, Gemini, extra freckles) joined the new JOB on July 2^nd with over ten years of fundraising experience. As a college sophomore at the University of Iowa, LP started working at the student telefund (primarily for the $9.40/hour and because Becca Aull was a supervisor and gave her the job because of the Muscatine connection). Years later she would graduate with an Art Major and decide to look for a job in fundraising, because that makes sense. LP’s greatest college accomplishment, aside from completing a one credit course called “Jogging," was being named 2005’s Tour Guide of the Year. (She has not gotten much cooler than that.)

Hired at Drake by someone nicknamed “the Rip” in 2005, LP began her career with a garden level office, an affinity for sweater vests and little appreciation for a work/life balance. It was there she became responsible for over 250 college kids. Luckily she dropped the sweater vests, but the work ethic stuck. Many evenings were spent building spreadsheets, analyzing stats and listening to students get hung up on. She also spent a lot of money on popcorn and late night Lambic.

After being offered a new position at Drake in 2008, LP memorized the map of Southern California. It was there she met Pelican Hill Resort, gasped each time she drove that curve on the 101 where you suddenly see the Pacific and discovered just how expensive hotel lobby bourbon can be. She fell in love with GPS and found out just how much fun selling something you believe in can be. Along the way she learned to be patient and to use the camera on her blackberry. She also raised some money, like she was supposed to.

An active volunteer at the Des Moines Art Center, LP served as Art Noir Board President from 2009 to 2011. Once an article stated the Art Center was LP’s first friend in Des Moines. This might have been true at some point in her 7 year Des Moines history, but that’s probably how she got so great at giving a truly subjective tour of Des Moines’ greatest asset. She is a member of the Young Professionals Connection, a secret society and has newly been named to the Des Moines Arts Festival Board (yep. she's psyched). Once she planned a conference where a nametag guy called her out in front of a room full of people. That is one of the least embarrassing things that has happened to her since turing 25. LP is part of the team that puts on Des Moines’ only monthly, handmade, local market: Market Day, where she occasionally sells postcards, hands out free suckers and has many nicknames including "director of making friends."

She is a delinquent blogger who values lists, genuine people and a damn great pun. While LP’s jokes aren’t funny, she continues to find herself hilarious. A lover of Rothko, Sam Cooke and the US Postal Service, Palmer loves adventures, especially those with a great soundtrack and a postcard to send home.

Press release in the making I'd say. Look for it in a blog that makes fun of people somewhere on the interwebs. I’m accepting suggestions. And please submit your haiku bio. Go.

xo-LP

ABC BBD.

Dear 29,

For years I hoped I was singing the right letters, yesterday it was confirmed. "ABC BBD" is correct, so go with it. Last night it should have stood for: A Big Crowd BoyzIIMen Brought Down.*

While this post could be fully devoted to Boyz becoming Men (I just can't let go. It's unnatural), I thought I'd take a chance to reflect on the three (excessive? no) trips I made to this year's Iowa State Fair, to which nothing compares.

I've written about the fair, well, kind of a lot. And this year is no different. The fair did not disappoint, and I saw a couple things I'd never seen in my 6+ years in a row of attendance (I think. I really don't know if that number is correct, but I've been in Des Moines 7 years, so I'd bet it's close.) Look how excited the fair made me this year? (actually that is a photo of me trying to make my hair fly around in front of a fan. I have no future as a model)

I met a rodeo queen. Did you know they have these? Well they do, as shown above. (No, it's that photo on the right with the horse.) So many bedazzled cowboy shirts. We watched as the rodeo queens, some with crowns carefully placed atop their hats, paraded around what I assume is a little practice arena. It is strange to see so many jewels and curled hair and pristine personalized chaps riding around a dirt pit filled with horse poo. Maybe that's why it is so special, because it doesn't quite make sense.

I saw cool man Sam ride a sheep, or "mutton bust." This is a real thing, mutton busting. I'll explain it to you: kids who are smaller than one of my legs are put on a sheep. They wear helmuts (the kids, not the sheep) because they are thrown off it's back within 1.6 seconds of the sheep being let out of it's pen. The event also featured a loud mouthed rodeo clown who was occasionally entertaining but mostly told secretly offensive jokes. And he wore an inflatable suit that made him look like a busty woman in a bikini.

Oh, and I held a snake. Jim, the snake guy, couldn't have been nicer. And while Jake the Snake (that's what he is called) scared the crap out of me, I did it. Snakes are very muscly.

This duo of photos is hilarious. If you aren't me. I am obviously having an awesome time on the crazy mouse.

Water Runs Dry came out in 1995. What a deep (pun intended) song for me to be singing, all the time, as a 12 year old. Jen, I thought of you and I arguing in front of the bookshelf boombox over who got to sing Shawn Stockman's part in the song while they were working it out on stage.

Just don't be. It's not a nice quality in a person. Also don't wear that shirt.

So I saw a mini rodeo (ok they were kids riding sheep, but still), held a snake, met a princess (someone who wears a crown and rides a horse: princess) and danced to Motown Philly. The Iowa State Fair was good to me.

xo-LP

Hey you! Check out the NEW blog space for letters to my NEW year (30). http://xo-lp.com/blog

* I'm not sure what I thought ABC BBD stood for if not that. I am accepting additional suggestions. Go.

This is not a trend. (otherwise known as a super long post about July)

Dear 29,
Today a UPS delivery man and I stood in an elevator together. He asked me, with a smirk, "you have many adventures planned for today, Miss?" Best. Question. Ever.

this really amazing photo was taken while dan deacon played at woolys. we are both sweaty and kate is still pretty.

I know. I know. The blog is losing readers daily. But I promise July was filled with adventures. I'm talking less and less about myself (ok this is just not true. although I have taken to listening to podcasts.* I'm obsessed. And it's giving me so many bizarre topics for my daily conversations. So many topics that have nothing to do with myself.) I'm not really sure why this is relevant, but I'm sure you now think I'm smarter.

this is des moines in the morning. good looking city.

I haven't posted in nearly a month. Back at the start of August I typed out these few sentences and clicked save. It was about 6:30am (or 7:30am, I'm not sure I'm up at 6:30am) and I was preparing for day 23 (ish) of the new J.O.B. Clearly I felt inspired:
"You can always tell when I'm having too much fun. Well I guess I can always tell. It might be hard for you to know considering my blogging has slowed to a stop. It's the morning of August first. (How did we get here? Summer has been swallowed up.) I'm sitting here in my mess of an apartment, pretty sure a teeny fish bone is lodged in my stomach, and my right pinky is numb. That's new, normally it's my left. July 2012 will go down as one of the most jam packed months in Laura Palmer history."

I almost called this post "oh my july." That's how much happened. (I might change the title of this post if there is a lot of excitement building around the rhyming title.) I crossed off 3 list items and added to others. In addition to starting a new job, July held four (FOUR) roadtrips and a drunk professional poker player. So to recap, here are some highlights:

#stoopgarden's first tomatoes. since then we've suffered some real injuries as a family of plants.

1. Waterparked with Kate, where I learned my extra long torso might make me bad at riding in a tube. You might ask, "what on Earth are you talking about?" That's a good question.
2. Karaoked Total Eclipse of the Heart with Nick in front of the entire East Village. Seriously. All of the East Village could hear us (this I learned later). Residents of the 50309's east side, I apologize for waking you up with the sweet sweet sounds of rock and roll.

3. Lindsay and I saw FIONA APPLE. (Here's a link to someone else's video of Paper Bag)

4. Spam museum, a corn cob water tower, the Surf Ballroom, and my first visit to Clear Lake, all on a roadside attraction tour with my mom.
5. Then there was Grace Potter. Oh Grace Potter rocked the most lovely river venue.
6. Heartless Bastards- The band wasn't as memorable as the Mr. Holland look-a-like who was head banging his glasses off in the front row. Dude was having the best night of his life.

7. You'll be shocked when I tell you that highlights 5-9 all happened within 5 days. (It's ok to gasp here) SDO and I daytripped to West Bend Iowa to see the surreal/incredible Grotto of the Redemption. A testament to Catholics and obsession, that's what that place felt like. It's amazing. Seriously. We also made a stop in Thor, IA. (Take it back Brad) I found out that SDO has never seen Adventures in Babysitting. (It's ok to gasp here too)

8. A short fifteen minutes after arriving back in Des Moines, I hopped in a car to head east. (If you are counting along, this will be oh my july's fourth and final road trip). I fished. I fished in the rain. I fished in pink pants. And I put a worm on a hook. Elkader, you are a special place. I will return.

9. Finally, I played BINGO and blackjack, all in the same 3 hours. 

So now that we've gone through a super long post about July, you'll understand I've been a busy blogger who has not been busy blogging. August looks to be just as packed with, as that UPS guy put it, adventures. Today is sure to be full of laundry doing. I'm pumped.
xo-LP

*Emily, this is for you, and all 4 readers who still have faith in the blog. Podcast recommendation list. So that we have things to talk about other than the cutest baby in the world and LP:
Radiolab (the one about Unraveling Bolero, amazing.)
This American Life (Be sure to listen to the one about Amusement Parks)
Freakonomics (not sure you'll like this one, but try it Emily, just try it)

5states1day.

Dear 29,
Something has come over me. I have started taking the long way. Gone is my need for speed (this is a lie. a blatant lie. I can't stop thinking about motorcycles.) I'm an adventurer now, or an adventure-ish person. Or maybe I'm just a little less uptight.

I've been 29 for 38 days. I'm sure you know this because you've kept count as well using a paper chain or something, but in case you lost track, it's been 38 days (by the time I publish this it might be 39*.) After a swanky rager (with a serious view of the city shown above), and a rainy Des Moines Arts Festival, I packed up a blanket and lakeside wedding attire and headed North.

Having never been to either Dakota, I drove a little bit, or nearly two hours, outta the way to check them out. The Honda sure makes for a less stressful ride (RIP Focus). A few things that you'll find interesting about my five-states-one-day trip:
- Ellen DeGeneres reads her book Seriously, I'm Kidding for the audiobook version. And it's only about three hours long. So that got me to South Dakota and I laughed outloud (lol-ed) at least seven times.
- Dell Rapids, SD hosts Quarry Days the last weekend in June. There are free train rides. But if you are 29 and there alone, it will seem weird for you to wait in line with the parents and small children, so you probably should get out of line and get a root beer float instead. Dell Rapids' website says it's "Where South Dakota Rocks"which is awesome.
- South Dakota is about 210 miles tall. I drove at least 186 of those miles.
- North Dakota looks a lot like South Dakota. And most of it is closed on Sunday.
- In Minnesota you can't buy booze on Sundays.
It was interesting, despite what little you learned from this list.

This lakeside wedding was just perfect (Katie and Matt: I'm so happy for you). I did take the short route home with only 7.5 hours and two states covered. Nearly 1200 miles of untraveled (or at least untraveled by me) land has now been traveled. (This sentence wasn't very good.)
And when I got home (or yesterday) I found that I'd been given a $168 souvenir. Thank you, Souix City for keeping our Iowa roads safe with traffic cameras.
xo-LP
*38 days have passed. Actually 47 days have passed. I need to finish posts when I start them instead of letting them sit in the unpublished pile. 

New Job Monday.

Dear 29,
It's New Job Monday.
I haven't had a New Job Monday since 2005. (July 25, 2005 to be exact)

I wore that polo a lot.

I looked at jobs in Des Moines for a boy (there, I said it) and found Drake. The boy left, I stayed. I'd say it worked out pretty well for both of us.

This is me on my last new job Monday. Hot, I know.

It was raining the day this picture was taken, at least that is why I think my hair looks so frizzy (although I can't explain the haircut.) I think this day I also went into Old Main, slipped on the wet floor and fell, face first, down two stairs. I made such a racket that women came rushing out of their offices to see what was going on and they found me, in a puddle, crying but trying to cover it up by laughing, and hoping I didn't rip a hole in the one pair of dress pants I owned. (They were likely hand me down dress pants from my mother.)

Here's me in my first office. I liked layering shirts. And am apparently on Facebook midday. And receiving a singing valentine at the moment this photo is being taken. Wonder where that watch is...

I had over 228 students work for me. That's a lot of influence. Most of those kids are now at least 24, which makes me feel really old. I embarrassed myself in front of those kids so many times. And saw about 57% of them cry. (Not because of my managerial skills, but probably because of a bad grade on a test, a girlfriend or a roommate.) I spent more time in the Knapp Center than taking any actual naps. And I loved it.

I never again worked at Street Painting. And paint soaks through clothes, FYI.

The first time I ever drove in a city bigger than Des Moines was the first time I took a Drake trip as a Major Gift Officer. Not only did I drive through a hail storm on the way to Kansas City (for you strangers reading this-- all two of you-- I'm terrified of storms, so you can imagine this was fun), I flew into LAX for the first time (wearing a grey suit and pink flats, an outfit I haven't worn since that day), had to rent a car and drive to Beverly Hills. I ate for the first and last time ever at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel where my lunch guest ordered a $32 cheeseburger. Mary, who couldn't be lovelier, and I watched Boston Celtics flit in and out of the hotel as she shared stories about why she got her pilot's license. Three years later Mary would tell me I look more Californian every time she sees me. It's probably because I gave up on wearing suits, sweater vests and the adolescent boy hair cut.

I got to see so many CA sunsets. Mostly by myself. Once I had a stranger take my photo in front of one. That only happened once. For many reasons.

I went to California at least 9 more times. I can get from John Wayne Airport to Pelican Hill Resort without the use of my GPS and have fallen in love with Palm Springs every time I've made that drive on the 10 going east. I worked with some terrific people in the office, I met amazing people on the road who helped me understand philanthropy in a way I feel lucky to have witnessed and I survived 7 Relays weekends.

It's like the end of an era (so. dramatic.)
Today, on New Job Monday, I'll cross off #15. Today, on New Job Monday, I'll feel so grateful for my Bulldog family- I've never known Des Moines without you.
Today I start something new.
xo-LP

A perfection of thought.

Dear 29,

I think it's officially summertime. I mean, not "officially" according to the calendar (maybe it is officially according to the calendar... when I started this post, like three weeks ago, it wasn't), but according to the way my hair frizzes up and the number of freckles across my face, it's official. Since writing that post, you know the one where I called myself a bad ass, I've certainly soaked up a whole bunch of summerness (hence the exponential increase of freckles.) Wallace Stevens felt pretty great about summer nights, as did the cast of Grease. Currently so do I.

June has been a blur of awesome. (Pause for damn cute baby break. Yes I did get him that shirt. And yes I am his favorite fake aunt.) So much good has happened in this first summer month. So much good that I've referred to it as the summer of Laura. Conceited? (Maybe.) A bigtime funtime? (Absolutely.)
I'm still obsessed with the #stoopgarden. So there's that. But I don't need to write two entire posts on it... (You should expect to see another post about it soon.)

Not only did I get to see my first itty bitty tomato plant bud, but Will and I also got to watch men dance in tutus during Billy Elliott. I think I'll raise my child to be a star on Broadway. I mean the kid who played Billy was charming and talented, had comedic timing (something my Broadway bound child could teach me) and only has to perform like once a week or something. The kid learns about sharing the spotlight with two other Billy kid stars: valuable life lessons. And then my kid would be more talented than everyone else's and I'd get great seats in the Civic Center, and probably discounts on something. I suppose I run the risk of being an overbearing stage mother, but that's better than an overbearing science fair mother. For the record, I am not pregnant and until typing this post I hadn't ever considered a Broadway baby. So let's move on. (this is the second reference to a child in this post)

I'm afraid this is going to be extraordinarily long if I include all the fun parts of June, but in an effort to prove just how "bigtime funtime" year 29 has been thus far, I will continue. I bought someone else's serving platter (Erica the entomologist) and watched Gretchen haggle during a marathon morning of garage sale-ing. Word of caution: garage sale signage can lie to you. If it says "super awesome" it's probably above average. And there will likely be a box of cat statues on a card table. You'll want to buy one, resist that urge. You will also find tables of romance novels with cracked spines. When you walk by the woman hosting the garage sale, you'll blush knowing she read them all and then blush because you read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. (More on that in an upcoming post. Judge away though. I can handle it.) But do feel free to buy baby clothes for your friend who has no babies. Third child reference in this post. Many years from now Rocky will thank me and I will become his favorite fake aunt (fine Chels. We can be co-favorites.)

Unrelated photo: This is delicious. VitaCoco you've outdone yourself.

This month I ate a cornichon, which is actually a pickle. I know, I'm surprised too. What's more surprising, I liked it. I served as a bouncer for a VIP lounge. This is actually true and I was good at it. Sort of. I saw a baseball game at noontime. There are a lot of people who go to noontime baseball games. There are enough people who go to noontime baseball games to cause traffic jams.

The man in the spongebob biker shirt thing in this photo had a daughter with him wearing the same outfit.

I got to see the Wildcat and Jane, which was awesome. We talked about why kids play in fountains at baseball games. Fountains are not wading pools, FYI. We also went to see the Mural (you should go too if you have yet to get there. Only up until July 15th) and Wildcat pointed out that it's "surprisingly symmetrical." I come from an arty family, we basically speak in art critic jargon all the time. (that's only half true).

I rode a bike for the first time in ten years. This sounds like an exaggerated statement, but I'm pretty sure it's accurate. I did yoga in a park. I saw a man get arrested outside the stoop in the rain. I had my first Jasper sangria of the season. And I got my photo taken in a tshirt (which isn't at all like modeling).
Summer of Laura.
Oh, did I mention I got a new job?
xo-LP

#stoopgarden

Dear 29,
The stoop has served many a purpose: place to eat breakfast once, place to watch me ride a motorcycle, place to get iced, place to witness a girl hit my car with a stick, place a child will fall down a couple steps, (then place where you gasp and feel super awful), place were sparklers are put once they stop sparkling, place to tie balloons too, place to store a shovel, place where people probably sit while I'm not around, etc.

But this summer (the first full summer of stoopin) it is playing host to a bitty garden. It started small- a couple tiny plants spontaneously purchased at the Urbandale* Home Depot. I even popped for a tomato plant. I'm not sure if it was the Cleverley Farms adventure over Memorial Day weekend, or the fresh suburban air, but I felt suddenly blessed with a hopeful green thumb and a tomato plant, some soil and three tiny herb sprouts came home with me in the Honda that day.

And now, this #stoopgarden has grown (pun intended) into an obsession. I've checked out books about container gardens, I've googled herb planters, and have spent hours trying to figure out just why parsley doesn't grow as quickly, or greenly, as basil. Two metal Ikea pots just wasn't enough. I browsed the Earl May the following day, picking up pamphlets on strawberry bushes (I think they are bushes?) and read all the labels on plant foods. Then I splurged on a pre-planted herb garden that included spicy globe basil. (still don't really understand what makes this stuff special)

So the #stoopgarden grew again. I also took a liking to weekend sun-tea blends- seemed very garden-person-like. After a little more research I decided to re-pot (boom. gardener jargon*) my thriving tomato plant. Containers for the #stoopgarden aren't cheap, at least not the pretty ones. But we aren't all about the fancy here in Sherman Hill, so my on-sale-target-plastic thing did the trick and suddenly grit got real. (laugh. it's ok. that was funny.)

I'm still thinking about planting a strawberry bush/vine but better do a little more research on what the strawberries grow on before planting them. I am really trying to figure out just why the pre-potted herb garden is less green, and trying to find a way to keep thyme from standing still, but other than that- we've got a real little garden on our hands.
Don't worry. I'll keep you updated on every bloomin thing.
And yes, gardening jokes are awesome.
xo-LP

*Sometimes I go to Urbandale. At least I think that place is considered to be in Urbandale.

"I am such a bad ass"

Dear 29,
You've outdone yourself, 29. We have barely had the chance to get acquainted (I mean it has just now been a week) and already you've thrilled me. At the risk of sounding overly sappy, I am surrounded by the most incredible people. They are brilliant and creative and thoughtful and truly kind. If these first 7 days of 29 are any indication of how the other 358 will go-- I'm in for one of the best years yet.

You must try this cake. Cache Birthday Cake @ Americana. So. Good.

The list has been published, posted on Facebook (which obviously makes it legit), printed on a tshirt (thanks Sara) and clearly studied by those around me. My sweet friend Jami proved that on Friday night when she arranged for me to RIDE A MOTORCYCLE. (Note the use of all-caps. That nearly never happens on this blog so it must have been pretty bigtime.)

While on the back of a very rumbly motorcycle I managed to ask a lot of questions (gears are in fact shifted using your foot), scream like a child and shout "I am such a bad ass" with my voice quivering. (Thank you to Jami's kind and good looking friends for putting up with all that and making #21 happen) I found myself glancing over at other motorcyclists throughout the rest of my weekend, from the safe confines of my trusty Honda, and nodding as though I'm one of them now. Apparently a 15 block ride on a bike has made me think I am part of the secret league of bad asses.

THANKS Jami!

I would have settled with just one night of awesome, but instead, my seven day birthday weekend was filled with special events: grilled pizzas, garlic scapes, a pretty serious Bobby Brown dance party at a bbq fest, lots of confetti, a brutal UFC fight (that I just watched, despite what Pete taught me), at least 4 naps, several compliments on a dress Janer nearly gave to goodwill... and that was just on Saturday.

Oh and a butterfly landed on my head.

After a day of pool sitting on Sunday (ok two hours of pool sitting, where I managed to land my first awkward sunburn of the season), I spent an evening on a farm eating ribs, learning about vegetable farming and sneaking many bites of the most delicious macaroni casserole. There were hayrack rides and the coolest man I know with a ponytail. Larry sang Johnny Cash and opened up his home to Des Moines' fancy food folk and we regular people. I can't wait to go back.

(photo credit to Adrienne. this is one of the many awesome shots she took that evening- hire her)

(Thanks for letting me give you the full and overly detailed play-by-play of my first week of a new year. I'm sure this is exciting to read.)

But while the weekend had many, the biggest highlight was celebrating my 2-9 on the Stoop with my sister Kate and a whole bunch of fun DSM friends. There was a root beer float bar, a vodka lemonade stand and so many rainbows. (and the motorcycle ride, Mr. Lidgett, lots of new bourbon varietals, sparklers, Mrs. Chase and a super tasty cake, oh and a Robert Palmer record)

29, you really have outdone yourself. And all you brilliant and creative and thoughtful and truly kind people- you have too. Thanks for an spectacular kick off of year 29.
xo-LP