family – Communications and Marketing Consultant

February 14, 2018January 27, 2020

And Hilarity Ensues

In two days, I leave for Tanzania with my mom. I am so stinking excited. I have no idea what day it is right now, I’m so excited. I have thought it was Thursday since Monday. I have never been to Africa, so that will be amazing. We will be there during the Great Migration, so the animals should be amazing. It will be warmer than Minnesota, which is amazing. But honestly, the thing I am most excited about? The twelve days I get to spend with my mom.

Every year, my mom and I go on a trip together. We’ve been doing this for about five years now. We have been to Lisbon, Wales, Austria/Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium, and Italy. My mom loves to travel. My dad, for all that he is a very curious and brilliant person, does not love to travel. So my mom takes me on her adventures. We travel incredibly well together. We go at more or less the same pace. We like to see the same things, we like to shop the same amount, we both know the value of naps, and we have a similar sense of wonder for the world. But most important, we both know how hilarious we are.

Each trip starts out with both of us passing a sane and normal travelers. We get through airport security with cheerful excitement. We wait patiently at the gate for our plane. We board, we get settled in. My mom puts on her airplane booties. Yeah, she has airplane booties. We read our books, we watch the movies, we try to sleep a bit.

Somewhere mid-flight, the giggles begin. Lately, it has tended to involve one or both of us putting our travel pillows on our heads.

I do not know why this happens. But it is hilarious. Other people are not always party to our hilarity. One lady on the flight to Italy was grouchy at us for grooving to some music on the headphones we were sharing. She clearly did not know how to travel.

By the time we finally reach our destination, the loopiness has set in. Jet lag is a funny thing. Travelling is exhausting, but we never end a flight grumpy. We end it in giggles. Literally everything is funny. Especially when it’s nothing. In Portugal, we dissolved into giggles taking our “after flight” selfie. We always take a before and after photo. There was nothing objectively funny about the photo we were taking except that we were both in it and very, very tired.

We have pretty much giggled our way through Europe. In Belgium, there were always french fries around and they always smelled amazing. After a long day of walking, the smell of fries caused us both to perk up and look for them. This was cause for a photo, in which my mom somehow managed to look like she had swallowed a goldfish. I would post the picture here, but she would kill me. Trust me, it is hilarious.

It is hard to write about inside jokes because, as I have said, not everyone gets how funny my mom and I are. It’s pretty much just us who get it, really. But my mom is one of the most unintentionally funny people you could ever meet, and being around her makes me so very very happy. Travelling with her is one of my favorite things. I am always excited about the destinations, of course – the places we have been have been wonderful. But the best part has always been and will always be the laughter my mom and I share. When memories of the trips have become fuzzy, the memories of the laughter are sharp and clear and present. I treasure that. I love my mom and I feel so blessed to share in the joy that surrounds her.

So watch out, Tanzania. I think accidental photos of zebra butts are about to become uncommonly funny.

December 18, 2017January 27, 2020

Ode to My Sisters

10406882_10206199926374135_6126736958100072436_n — Me and my brother

Growing up, I always wanted a sister. It was just me and my younger brother. My brother is amazing and we have always gotten along well and been close, but what girl doesn’t wish sometimes that she had a sister?

We grew up in a girl-heavy neighborhood in the suburbs, so I always had plenty of girl friends to play with. My brother, I’m sure, spent a lot of time wishing there were some other boys to play with. Or at least some girls who didn’t insist on playing dress up with him. He looks very cute in a bonnet, if you’re interested.

1397469_10206408270789267_4947657636600920295_o — . My surrogate sisters, circa 2000.That orange scrunchie tho

I had my surrogate sisters, the girls with whom I was so close we might as well have been sisters. My friend Kelly, who I met when I was five, was often mistaken for my sister. I will always consider her family.

But still, no real life sisters.

When I was 23, I married Luke. Luke, among the thousands of other amazing things he brought to our marriage, came with a very large family. In addition to marrying this amazing man, I suddenly had the gift of two sisters. Last year, my brother got married. Bam, another instant sister.

And in all the years I spent wishing for a sister as a child, I don’t think I could have ever dreamed up three women as kick-ass as the sisters I got.

Luke’s step-sister, Anne, is amazing. She welcomed me into the family with open arms and an enormous smile. She is the kind of woman who wears heels even though she is six feet tall already because why the hell not? She does not sit around and wait for life to happen. She has created a very cool career for herself, and is one of those people who has a dream and then actually works to see it become a reality. She dreamed of living in LA. A few years ago, she moved there. She is loving and joyful and independent and inspiring and one of my favorite parts of spending time with Luke’s family. She falls in love with the quirkiest pets and they love her back fiercely.

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Anne continues to welcome and accept me whole-heartedly into her family, and I love her for it. I cannot wait to see what this incredible woman does next.

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Mindy is Luke’s half-sister and the oldest in a family full of brothers. Mindy radiates the type of patience that can only come from growing up with brothers. She spent time in the peace corps and now has an amazing job as an environmental educator. She is brilliant and creative and thoughtful. She has spent her adult life making a difference in the lives of others.

Years ago, Mindy knew that she wanted to be a mom. Rather than sitting around hoping for the right guy to come along, Mindy became a foster mom. She fostered a brother and a sister, who I am proud to now call my niece and nephew. Mindy is one of those people who was clearly meant to be a mom. She is patient and kind and tender-hearted and just the right touch of sarcastic. Mindy is the kind of mom that I would like to be someday. She is Luke’s big sister, an amazing mom, and someone I deeply admire.

Kate is my brother’s wife. I couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect for him. She is exactly his kind of crazy. Laid-back, silly, fun, nerdy, artistic, and compassionate. Kate’s passion in life is animals. I don’t just mean she really likes dogs or cats or guinea pigs. I mean at one point they had 17 individual animals living in their home. She makes these animals her number one priority and gives them a safe, healthy, and loving home. Kate runs the Northern Colorado Herpetological Society and spends a large portion of her time rescuing reptiles and educating students and the public about them. I don’t know if there is an animal on God’s green earth that Kate does not find beautiful in some way. Kate also rescues dogs. My husband and I foster dogs and give them a loving temporary home. This is not what I mean when I say that Kate rescues dogs.

Kate works for an animal shelter and will go to humane societies and other shelters and bring back the dogs that no one believes can be saved. She and my brother foster dogs who are terrified of the world around them. They teach these dogs that they are loved, that it is ok to trust, that the world has kindness in it. They truly rescue these dogs. Kate’s love for animals humbles me. She has found a way to impact the world around her for good, and I stand in awe of her.

Each of my sisters has made an impact on me, on my life, and on the life of those I love. My husband would not be who he is today without his sisters. My brother grows every day with his wife. And I am shaped by these women who have shaped them. I am deeply grateful, unspeakably blessed, and full of love for these sisters who have come into my life.

December 4, 2017January 27, 2020

Finding My Magic

Last winter, my dear sweet husband started trying to teach me to play the trumpet. He played in high school and college and it was and still is a big part of his identity. I had fun learning the basics, he had fun teaching me, and it made for some very nice date nights. We eventually moved on to other things.

What struck me at the time and what has stayed with me is the way in which my husband relates to music. When he listens to music, he hears it in a very different way than I do. It hits him on a different level than it does me. I enjoy music. He understands music. Hearing him talk about and play music is almost like a kind of magic. It is something beyond my understanding.

10269602_10152359646403672_4033581990090619369_n — My husband the trumpet player

My dad is a brilliant scientist and thinker. He is creative and curious about the world in a way that defies categorization. The way my dad sees the world and understands the science behind it, and the math behind that science, is to me a kind of magic.

sauddering at desk — My dad the scientist

My mom has loved photography for most of her life. She is very modest about it, but she has an ability to see pictures that others would miss. Her understanding of light and lines, and her ability to capture them, is a kind of magic.

21730845_10214290307948618_7934109499374560372_n — One of my mom’s photos

I didn’t feel that I had any particular magic of my own. There were things I was good at, but nothing that came so easily to me that it felt like magic. And that was that. I didn’t think much more about it for the last year or so.

Then last week, I published my piece about becoming a grown-up and had more than one person ask me how I write like that. I had no answer for them. I just write. Words come easily to me and flow easily from me. It brings me peace and calms my mind. I am able to write honestly and without second-guessing.

And it struck me that maybe I do have a magic of my own. Writing might be my magic. This is not to say that I think I am a brilliant writer or about to change the world with something I write. But the ease with which I am able to write apparently strikes others as a kind of magic, in the sense that I use the word.

I know music and math and writing and photography are all things that can be learned. Magic involves learning. The magic is in that thing that lights you up. Once you find the thing that lights you up, you need to learn and cultivate it.

Magic isn’t something you just have and that’s that. It takes work and dedication. Not just learning how to do your bit of magic, but dedication to actually doing it. Your magic doesn’t do you or the world any good if you never actually do it. If you love music and love to make music, but stop making it, then you’re neglecting your magic. I love to write. It inspires and sustains me. But only if I actually take the time to write.

In Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Big Magic,” she discusses the idea of “permission slips.” You do not need to wait for someone to give you permission to be creative, to cultivate and enjoy your magic. You do not have to wait for a life or world changing idea or project to come along. You have permission already. You do not need to wait for it. You do not need to be the greatest or most original. There is no requirement upon your creativity and magic except that you give it a means of expression. There is an exchange in a song from “Sunday in the Park with George” by Steven Sondheim that goes,

[GEORGE] I’ve nothing to say

[DOT] You have many things

[GEORGE] Well, nothing that’s not been said

[DOT] Said by you, though. George.

I love that exchange. Don’t worry so much about being the best or being original. Worry is not helpful in creativity. Your magic is yours, and yours alone. It is good enough and original enough simply because it is yours. There has never been anything quite like it and never will be again. Isn’t that amazing? Figure out what your magic is. You have one. It could be dance or fixing cars or running or doing makeup or computer programming or invention or painting or gardening. If it brings you joy and lights you up, it is your magic. You do not need to explain or justify it to anyone. Learn all you can. Cultivate and practice it. Give it room to move and be.

For me, the hard part of my magic isn’t the writing, it’s taking the breath and finding the courage to share it with the world. I’ve always written. It’s the sharing that’s new. I hope that as you discover your magic, you will also discover the courage to share it. The world could use a little more magic, I think.

November 10, 2017January 27, 2020

The Community of Community Theater

This past August, I found myself on a middle school stage, auditioning for my first play since 2008. The play was “Harvey,” by Mary Chase, and I still couldn’t quite tell you what had made me decide to audition. I had found out about the Prior Lake Players community theater organization through work. The Players had donated proceeds to our food shelf the previous season. I was familiar with the play – well, not just familiar, I adored both the film and stage versions. It’s tough to beat a Jimmy Stewart movie, and the character of Elwood Dowd was one of my favorites.

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Anyway, I auditioned. I wasn’t nervous. I didn’t have any particular stakes. If I got in, great! If not, it’s not like I had lost anything. I hoped I would get in of course, but wasn’t pinning any big dreams on it.

Me as a pie server in Beauty and the Beast

Then I left the country on vacation for a couple of weeks. I got the email saying that I was being offered the part of Nurse Kelly while I was in Norway. And just like that, it was the biggest deal in the world to me! I accepted the part right away. I was so nervous and excited. I hadn’t been in a play in almost a decade, and the last part I had played was a pie server in Beauty and the Beast. I mean the actual utensil, not someone who served pies. That had been in community theater back in college. I had never had this large of a part or this many lines! I had an actual character! With a personality!

Right after Labor Day, rehearsals started. We all stumbled through our lines, literally stumbled through blocking the movements on stage, and introduced ourselves to our fellow cast members.

The community created around a show is an odd thing. You are thrown together with this group of people, with no say in who your fellow cast members will be. Sometimes cast members know each other, but I had never met any of them before. And it starts of very professionally. You show up, you run the scene, you work out the bugs. Slowly, you might start to have side conversations when you’re not on. You find out what people do for a living, what their theater experience has been, which musicals they love and hate. It’s a group of theater lovers. Musicals come up a lot.

Then, you start rehearsing with the set, and with props, and pieces of costumes. It starts to take shape. And you are truly in this world belonging exclusively to the cast and crew. You sit around together in between scenes or when the directors are arguing over a bit of blocking. You might have things in common with your cast mates, you might not. But you find out you like each other. In this weird little world all your own, you become family. You joke and laugh hysterically at things no one else would find funny. You become a family.

I have never experienced anything else like the community one finds in theater. These people, who a couple months ago I didn’t know at all and who I hadn’t specifically chosen to spend time with, are now dear friends. They are hilarious and odd and wildly goofy. I have no idea if I will keep up contact with them once this show is over. People tend to go their own way. I’m sure we’ll check in on Facebook now and then. I hope for more concrete friendships though, with at least a few. My female costars especially. Girl friends are frightfully important, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I will never have too many.

Community theater is a funny thing. We spend hours upon hours of our lives for weeks rehearsing for a show. We do not get paid. We do not perform before enormous audiences. We do not get famous. We are all there simply because we love it. A shared love for theater. Yeah. That’s more than enough to build a community on.

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