The top five things

Well, we just returned from a fantastic long weekend in Charlottesville, which has me missing the East Coast a bit more than normal.

So, here's what we do about that ... we make a "Top five things about being in Michigan right now" list!

1. The weather is awesome. Even better than VA and MD. No humidity,and steady temps in the 70's and 80's.
2. Local produce will soon be exploding and my summertime meals will surely benefit. Hopefully my yet to be planted garden will, too.
3. It gets light very early and stays light very late, making waking up in the morning less painful and the evenings seem a lot longer.
4. It's golf season, and since last season got cut off unexpectedly early due to my foot injury, I'm feeling a new sense of gratitude for the ability to enjoy this sport. Also, we often play on Friday nights after work, and finish off the night with sausage and green olive pizza from our favorite pizza place - a perfect way to end the work week in my opinion.
5. Summertime also means that we have a couple of trips to look forward to in the next several months that will bring us back to the East Coast.

I'm not sure if the last one really counts as a top five for being in MI right now, but I'm running out of time and ideas, so it will have to do!

I need to be more careful

Last night I volunteered at a cowboy-themed fundrasiser for the Junior League. I don't own cowboy boots, a cowboy hat or even a checked button-down shirt ... the only affordable Western flair I could figure out at the last minute was a bandanna.

So I asked Matt if he had any I could borrow, and he hedged a little. To be honest, I was a bit miffed by his response. After all, it's just a bandanna, he wasn't going to be using it on Saturday night I'm pretty sure, and what was I going to do ... lose it?!?! Of course not! It would be tied around my neck for all of 2 or 3 hours and then back in his hands, safe and sound.

I'm guessing you can tell where this post is going. Matt was right to hedge a little in lending me his white bandanna, the one he feels the most sentimental about, the one that reminds him of his backpacking trips.

When I got to the event, I put my belongings in a coat closet and decided not to wear the bandanna at first, since I couldn't really make it look cute tied around my neck and figured I looked "cowboy couture" enough with my denim and heels.

And of course, a few hours later, I returned home, bandannaless. In my rush to leave, I didn't notice that it had fallen of the top of my purse, where I had set it initially.

Here's the good news, though! First, and most importantly, Matt forgave me pretty quickly. Yes, he was bummed that we might not be able to get his bandanna back, but he didn't give me a hard time about it. And for that I am very grateful!

Second, I did track down a friend who was still at the event and she rescued it for me.

Lesson learned - I need to keep bandannas tied around my neck! (and be more careful of course)

The hockey scream

I guess I always knew that different sports call for different spectator sounds. Polite clapping and conservative cheering are appropriate for tennis and golf. Basketball, football and baseball allow for more expressive outbursts of emotion. I thought hockey fit into that category, too, but my exposure to the Detroit Red Wings has proved to me that it doesn't.

When Matt watches hockey, the sounds that come out of his mouth are so bizzare. I was certainly caught off-guard the first time I heard them. They are these high-pitched yelps, sporadic "OH's!" that get you all keyed up and make you think maybe something really exciting actually has happened.

But then I look at the screen and nothing really that tremendous has occurred. The puck is still sliding around, the score is the same and not even a fight has broken out.

I'm still not sure why hockey elicits these strange noises from my husband. And I doubt they're unique to him. It just must be something about the sport that I don't understand.

All I know is that I won't be disappointed when the playoffs are over and I'm pretty thankful that Matt's basically just a playoff fan.

Ice cream!

I adore ice cream. And it's my good fortune that we live within walking distance of three ice cream shops ... all well-suited to satisfy three different moods. When I have an appetite for serious ice cream, the kind you can scoop, the kind that can handle big chunks of chocolate and big bites as it totters on top of a sugar cone, we can walk to Clark's.

When I want predictable, we can walk to Dairy Queen and enjoy smooth vanilla ice cream and precise portion control.

Almost always, though, I'm in the mood for soft ice cream and for supporting the mom and pop shops of our town, which is why we headed to the Frosty Freeze tonight.

There's just something sweet and old-fashioned about the Frosty Freeze. Even its name makes you think of the "good ol' days." The menus taped to the window are a bit haphazard and rattle off almost every kind of ice cream concoction you can imagine. Case in point - Matt got his usual Boston Cooler tonight (a smooth blend of ginger ale and vanilla ice cream).

I don't think I've ever seen anyone over the age of 15 working at the Frosty Freeze and there's almost always a line-up of cars at its drive through, and a pile of kids at the walk-up window.

I nearly always get a vanilla or chocolate dip, because it just sounds sooo good, and often regret it when it means I finish my treat faster than Matt finishes his. There's really no way to lick and leisurely relish a dipped cone.

I love that even in this recession, even in Detroit, people are still enjoying simple treats like ice cream. Maybe even enjoying them more than they ordinarily would. I think we are!

Asparagus!

Have any of you ever seen the moving Waiting for Guffman? For those of you who haven't, it's a mock documentary (or mockumentary). It chronicles a community theater in Blaine, Missouri that is putting on a musical called Red, White and Blaine. If you enjoy parody, it's worth watching.

If you enjoy unintentional parody as well as asparagus, then Asparagus! Stalking the American Life is a documentary you won't want to miss. Matt taped the movie and we just watched about 20 minutes of it. We couldn't believe how similar it was to Waiting for Guffman, except for one important detail - it's for real.

There really is a Mrs. Asparagus. There is an asparagus song and everyone knows it. The ladies in the town are seriously excited about asparagus dishware, sweatshirts and other spear-headed paraphernalia.

The documentary takes place in Oceana County, MI, the asparagus capital of the world. However, this could all change very soon due to the U.S. war on drugs, free trade and a fast food nation.

I'm not a huge fan of asparagus, but I think by the time I finish this movie, I'll be just a little more passionate about the green spears that our state depends on.

For more information, check out the documentary's Web site http://www.asparagusthemovie.com/

And as they say in Oceana County, "Our tips are tops," so buy Michigan asparagus!

What's that squeak?

A few weeks ago, as Matt and I were going to sleep, we heard an intermittent squeak from the crawl space behind the head of our bed. At first we thought it was a low battery on some electronic device, but that wasn't the case.

The next morning, as I was trying to grab a few extra minutes of sleep, I heard it again. And then I started to get a little concerned, because the rain that was pattering on the rooftop sounded like little feet running across our crawl space. And that got me thinking, what if this squeak is an animal inside our house?

Well, I tried to put it out of my mind, and I did, until this week when I was home alone for a night. And I started hearing it again. Now I'm normally not too concerned about being alone in the house at night, but when I start to get the feeling that I might not be alone ... well, I get a little concerned!

So I stuffed my ears with earplugs, cranked up my sound machine and tried to rationalize the fact that a little squeak really couldn't harm me too much ... unless of course it scurried into our room and crawled up my bedsheets.

I didn't sleep very well that night.

And the next day at work, as I told a few of my coworkers about this mysterious squeak, I got more than an earful of mouse, rat and even bat stories.

And let me just tell you this - researching "where do bats live" or "what sound do bats make" on the Internet is not for the faint of heart. Have you ever seen a picture of a bat up close? Terrifying. They're like terrible mice with capes!

So I went out and bought a mouse trap. But I haven't put it in the crawl space yet. At first I was too scared to open the door and wanted to wait until Matt was home to do it.

And then, funny thing, the squeak went away. And to my knowledge, we only hear it when it rains.

So what I thought was going to be an "exciting" blog post about a family of mice or maybe even a bat or two, or maybe a bird, living in our attic, is really nothing more than a post about small leak or creak that's been robbing my sleep. At least I hope so!

Easter in Annapolis

I wish I had taken pictures of how beautiful Annapolis looked over Easter, especially compared to how gray Detroit still looks, although signs of spring are slowly beginning to appear.

However, my camera, and my family members' cameras only had eyes for my nephew Tucker.

Fortunately, I'll be in Annapolis this coming weekend as well, so maybe I'll snag some memories of spring to post on my refrigerator while I wait for the real thing to finally arrive.

Until, then, I'll be looking at these!