Smart Holiday Shopping
I love it when around the beginning of September, I tell people I’m already about halfway done with my holiday shopping. It’s like I’ve suddenly sprouted horns, immediately followed by angel wings and a halo – and it’s true. I discovered years ago that not only did I spend considerably less money if I started shopping in the summer months, but I was also much happier when the holidays came around – both because I was not in a last-minute-shopping panic, and my bank account wasn’t flattened. It all started one July when I found the PERFECT gift for my sister. Not only was it perfect, it was half price! Since her birthday had been in the spring, I decided I just had to get it for her, and hang on to it until the holidays - after all, it would still be amazing in a few months! I decided since I was already storing one present, I might as well keep my eyes out for everyone on my list. Then I noticed that a lot of stores clearance out a lot of merchandise after 4th of July. And when I started actually looking for things with that in mind, I think I spent about 35% less overall on my holiday shopping which is huge! I hit the jackpot at the sporting goods store for my dad and brother, and I discovered that Target (https://www.target.com/) clearances out about half of their toys in the summer to make room for the new toys for the holiday season, so the nieces and nephews were covered! That left me with plenty of time to stew over what to get for mom (she’s always the hardest to shop for) and I was totally done with all of it way before the words Black Friday were uttered. If that sounds like your kind of shopping, make your lists now, and start watching for those sales! Then when the holidays come around you can spend more time doing what you’re supposed to - spending time with family at home, going to ugly sweater parties and cookie exchanges with your friends, and enjoying the holiday spirit!
Summer comes to a close
I stared at my vanilla soft-serve cone with rainbow sprinkles. It stared back. After a minute or two, there wasn't a trace of melted ice cream to be found. With that it was written—summer was ending much too soon. We were well into what is referred to where I come from as "Indian summer," or the final weeks of summer; when the warm weather and seemingly endless sunshine are winding down as fast as kids are returning to school and the leaves are beginning to fall. The smell of that familiar crisp chill is already in the air some mornings. Why did it seem that the season associated with vacations and adventures, partying, cookouts, and heat always ends sooner than that old foe named winter, the season linked to cold, dark mornings, chattering teeth, and awkward holiday parties? After all, I havent heard of anyone begging a groundhog not to see its shadow and sentence us to six more weeks of summer. Well, I'd had enough of this, this...fall...creaping back into the picture. I had to do something to remind myself that there were still a few weeks left of my favorite season and that that big, oafish autumn was encroaching into summer's territory, slapping its crisp, orange and brown toes onto the wrong weeks. I decided that attending a baseball game would be the perfect solution. Nothing says summer like a juicy Ball Park frank and a seventh-inning stretch. Without hesitation, I bought a ticket in the nosebleeds for that weekend's big game. Hot dog in hand, the first pitch was thrown and it all was off to a good start. An adorable kid of about seven or eight years caught a foul ball right into his baseball cap and the crowd all cheered. After the first inning the home team was winning. Then, about twenty or so men all dressed alike appeared at one end of the diamond. They carried a large, white tarp and sat it down right at the side formed by the first and second bases. A fluffy white, cloud was enveloping the baseball mound as the men suddenly ran with an edge in hand to…
Don't let stress get the better of you
I left my wallet and keys in my desk at work—again! It was the second time in two weeks that I'd gotten all the way to the subway station on my evening commute home only to have to turn around and retrieve the important objects I left behind in my rush. Work has been pretty busy and since it feels like there are 1,001 things, both big and little, to get done, I catch myself continually trying to squeeze just one more thing into the already stretched-thin final minutes at work. In my carelessness, the five or so minutes saved by sending that last email turned into twenty minutes wasted. There isn’t much relief after work either. Sure, I’d like to spend time lounging around my apartment with a book but even in the comfort of my own home, there’s still a heaping pile of tasks waiting to tackled—mounds of laundry to be folded, a package I meant to send my great aunt weeks ago, and a stack of unopened mail are just a few of them. No need to say that my Snuggie has been lonely lately. Sinking into bed at the end of another busy day, I couldn’t shake my mom’s familiar words from my head: “There will always be work to be done.” The supermoms out there know that anyone can drive themselves crazy attempting to fit that one last thing into a mere 24 hours, and that making time to relax can sometimes be a chore itself—but a very necessary one in our workaholic culture. I decided that I had to do something about the stress caused by these tasks setting up camp in my head all day and night. What I’ve since learned is that everyone—even busy people—can fit a few moments into their day to remove themselves from the stronghold of the stress that is just part of life. In fact, breaks could be good for your tasks, too. Research shows that breaks, when taken at the right time, can actually raise productivity: “Short breaks between tasks can be particularly effective, helping you feel like you’ve wrapped up one thing before moving on to the next,” says an American Psychological…
Pack It Up
I recently started a great new job that I am just in love with. The only catch – it’s 30 miles from where I’m living. So as I’m searching for that perfect new home, I have to start thinking about packing up my old one and hauling everything across town. Since I started out at my current apartment right out of college and with very little in the way of personal belongings, a few trips with my parents’ van and I was good. Now I’m looking at a bedroom, kitchen, living room and bathroom full of stuff - a lot of stuff. Suddenly, ten trips across town with the van seems overwhelming. So now I’m thinking – no problem, I’ll just hire a moving company to move me. Right? Wrong. Unless you are working for a really generous company who will reimburse you for moving costs, or have a couple extra thousand dollars sitting in your bank account, forget this option. So I need to be budget friendly. And single chick friendly. But my dad and brother can always get bribed into helping for food. I can rent a big U-Haul truck (https://www.uhaul.com/) for about $60 for a full day locally, and I can actually buy tons of different types of boxes from the U-Haul website, and pick them up in any of the stores. They can get spendy if you’re buying ALL nice boxes, but for $8 apiece, a few hanging wardrobe boxes seem smart, as do glass packing kits for around $10 apiece. I figure I can get away with spending about $60 on nice boxes, and then I can get thrifty. I noticed that there are always people selling their used boxes on Craig’s List (https://minneapolis.craigslist.org/) (guess I can maybe recoup a few bucks doing the same when I’m done), and there’s always the local big box liquor store that is willing to give away a bunch of medium sized boxes – and when you think about it, most things in your home fit nicely in those! If I go this route, I think I’m only out about $200, plus a home cooked meal. What better way to break in my new home!
Two Minutes
Two minutes…Realistically speaking, two minutes is such an insignificant amount of time, when considering the vast expanse of a lifetime. However, these two minutes, a woman realizes with utmost certainty, have the power to change the rest of her life. And who would have thought that this irreplaceable time span would be spent anxiously propped on the lid of a fretfully cold toilet seat. As you fidget around the grooves of the your own porcelain waiting room, you force yourself to count the tiles on the bathroom floor, brush up on the proper way to wash, rinse, and repeat…anything to keep your eyes from wandering over to the countertop where that infamous stick of pee sits..Taunting you. Those two minutes that once seemed so elusive have now passed by, and the moment has arrived. Your hand quivers as you reach for that stick, knowing full well that this it, with no options for a do-over. You take a deep breath, as all of your emotions, excitement, fear, anxiety, are all captured in that one quick inhale. And there it is… PREGNANT…No chance for uncertainty…No blurred, faint line…Nothing to decipher. In bold black letters, that one simple word has now changed every aspect of who you are and who you will become. Life is no longer a selfish destination, where your wants are your primary concern. No, life in now a complex journey, filled with laughter and tears, guilt and pride…but most of all, life in now growing inside of you. And this miraculous moment has marked the beginning of your journey-the life altering obstacle course of motherhood. Motherhood is not simply a destination-a place that you attempt to get to; rather, motherhood is a never ending journey- one full of trials and tribulations. This selfless journey begins from the moment of conception, and amid all of the twists and turns, continues even after those precious little gems begin families of their own. And although there will be times (and maybe even years) when mothering may seem to be…
Marshmallow Bandit
It seemed like a great idea at the time, a two night camping trip, plus 5 children, 2 adults, and two cars packed full of just the “necessities”– a wonderful way to kick off summer break, take part in a little R&R, and bond as a family. Well, at the very least, create some memorable moments that my kids would pass on to theirs, for generations to come. In my perfect world, tucked ever so neatly away in my dreams, this was a foolproof plan; however, I would soon come to learn that the 3 strike rule that accounts for the end to many things in life, would quickly apply to this fantasized trip to the Great Outdoors. After arriving, we unloaded the kids, set up our campsite, and allowed the kids a “longer leash,” in order to go exploring in the woods (STRIKE 1). Before the campfire was given an adequate amount of time to warm the mountain pie makers, 3 out of the 5 kids came barreling out of the brush – scraped, wet, and whining. Despite those empty warnings and threats to stay out of the water, given prior to our arrival, a simple game of truth or mostly dare ensued. The crazy sibling rivalry outweighed the unforeseen consequences in the eyes of my children. Hence, the sloshy sneakers, making their way toward our campsite, exposed the winners and losers. After creating a makeshift clothesline, swapping wet clothes for dry ones, and slapping on a few band-aids and kisses, all was well on the home front – well, for approximately the next 10 minutes. After that small amount of time elapsed, an ear piercing scream sliced through the serene calm of nature, sending this mother of 5 into an adrenaline filled frenzy. My 6 year old daughter decided to take it upon herself to teach herself how to ride a two wheeler – minus the safety net of training wheels and a helmet. Barreling down the hill and into the woods, she lay under her brilliant idea, tires spinning, long blonde hair camouflaged by leaves and dirt (STRIKE 2). Once the balance of peace and quiet was…
Men: Get Back in the Kitchen
Guys, you have run out of ideas. In my run through the dating scene, I have been on all the dates that you can possibly come up with. Catching a new movie, bowling, trying a fancy steak house, getting coffee, riding the Ferris wheel, going dancing—they all tend to blend together into a soup of first kisses, expensive dinners, and nights waiting by the phone. So how can we break this mundane cycle? Make your next outing memorable by treating your significant other to a homemade meal. It doesn’t need to be elaborate—just heartfelt. Cooking a meal for someone says a lot of things: from “I’ve taken the time to perfect a useful skill” to “I want to share with you something I’ve made myself.” Melt your date’s heart with epicurean expertise using these top five cooking basics. From Maria Skold, pro Minneapolis cook, we bring you these tips to spice up any evening with style and savoir-faire for a home (https://thiestalle.com) cooked meal. Make an omelet: We’ve all been there. You throw the eggs and toppings into a pan and no matter how hard you try, you get scrambled eggs with bits of lunchmeat and cheese. Keep three things in mind: don’t overstuff, keep the heat at medium, and fold the eggs like a burrito—not a taco. It’s breakfast made simple, but food that’s good enough for any time of day. Boil Pasta: Grandma was wrong about pasta. Never, ever, rinse pasta after draining. Boiling pasta releases sticky starches, enabling the sauce to cling to each noodle. Remember to add a dash of salt to your water. Says Skold, “Adding salt makes the dish go from being ‘eh, it’s okay,’ to ‘this is delicious.” It’s the only chance you’ll get to infuse flavor throughout the entire noodle. Sauté Vegetables: Frozen vegetables are cheap and handy, but beware! Unattended microwaving leads to mushy peas and anemic broccoli. Instead, lightly sauté your fresh veggies in a pan with oil to release their leguminous goodness. Deglazed pan sauce: To make any meal complete, add butter and flour to…
Comedy of Errors
Have you ever been involved in a comedy of errors? Like the Shakespeare play (https://shakespeare.mit.edu/comedy_errors/full.html) that coined the phrase, my own comedy of errors involved a mistaken identity (however, unlike the play, it didn’t feature two sets of identical twins in Ancient Greece). Instead—and arguably more absurdly—it took place in a retirement home. I was visiting an elderly friend of the family for a few days and had decided to take advantage of the exercise facilities located in the community (https://thiestalle.com) . It was a holiday weekend with a number of families visiting, and to celebrate my day off work, I had just undergone my bi-monthly routine of trimming and thinning out my already short hair so that it was cropped very close to my head. I was enjoying this freshly-cut-hair feel as I headed down to the exercise room, wearing athletic shorts and an old t-shirt that hung loosely on my petite frame. The only other person in the exercise room was an elderly lady leisurely using the recumbent cycle—one of those bicycles that you pedal a laid-back, reclining position. After a swift, but intense, mental battle over whether to go for the treadmill or the exercise bike, I headed towards the latter (it won over the treadmill by a narrow margin of less effort required). I started pedalling, and moments in I heard her saying somewhat imperiously, “Excuse me, young man” The “young man” did not reply, and her tone became more insistent. “Young man…young man…excuse me, young man, I am talking to you!” I smiled to myself, wondering what this “young man” had done to earn her displeasure. It took me a further ten seconds of this scolding to realise, “Oh my gosh…she’s talking to me!” I slowed to a stop, and turned towards her. From across the room, still leisurely reclining and peddling away, she addressed me: “Young man, you should know that only persons of eighteen years of age or older may use these exercise machines.” She pointed to a sign next…
Crash Diet
There's no excuse this year, I know, what with our strangely balmy winter and beautiful, blue-skied spring; as a matter of fact, an argument could be made that this year, Mother Nature was all but screaming at me: “Stop digging through the cream cheese with your fingers! You have to put some shorts on soon!" Did I listen? Of course not. I have only myself to blame. I don’t listen to my actual mother nearly enough, why would I listen to a woman who got fooled into thinking a tub of margarine was butter (ridiculously out-dated pop-culture reference alert!)? Just like every December 23rd I have nary a present purchased, every year Memorial Day lands on me like a giant anvil. A giant anvil made of thigh fat. The magazine headlines in the mailbox (https://thiestalle.com) warned me: "Beach weather is but 10 weeks away!" "Blast your belly fat in time for sundress season!" "The thought of you in a tank top makes Jillian Michaels vomit!" and so forth. I glanced at them in March while I waited for the girl to ring up my ice cream. Ten weeks sounded like such a long time, eight weeks ago. But now, here we are...the dreaded count-down to summer. Which crash diet will I fail at this year? A friend of mine just finished the HCG diet (https://hcgdietinfo.com/) , in which one ingests a hormone women produce during pregnancy and then eat no more than 500 calories a day for a month. My sister is doing a liquid cleanse (https://www.livestrong.com/liquid-cleansing-diet/) ; she has to drink several glasses of a vile-smelling potion that makes her highly flatulent…and eat no more than 500 calories a day. For a month. Is it just me, or does the hormone-taking and vile-drink drinking seem extraneous? Eat less than 500 calories a day and you’re going to lose weight, right? You’ll probably loss your mind, your job, all of your hair and most of your friends, too, but at least you’ll be thin. Years ago, the book "Fit for Life (https://www.amazon.com/Fit-Life-Harvey-Diamond/dp/0446300152) "…