Game of MASH

Do you remember those childish games you used to play in elementary school? You know, like dots, hang man or that one game where you unfold origami until it revealed a secret? Why did we ever stop playing them? Sure, they're not legitimate fortune tellers, but they're fun.

My favorite game- by far- was MASH. The game that decided your future husband, home, career and pets to name a few. {We always added more categories.}

I played a game of MASH on the train and thought I'd share my results with you! I am going to marry Hayden Christensen {the best part of the game is that I can choose guys like Hayden} and live with him, our three kids and dog in a house in San Francisco. I drive to my job as an architect in my GMC Acadia. We vacation in Italy. Not a bad life, eh? What does your future hold?

Here are the rules of the game according to Wikipedia (keep in mind there are many variations):

1. Write down five of each of the following: names, types of cars, colors, number of children, places, and careers.
2. One person starts drawing a spiral on a piece of paper and the person whose fortune is being told tells her when to stop. Then, you count across the spiral top to bottom to get the magic number for the game.
3. Count through your lists of items and the letters M-A-S-H, eliminating the ones that you land on with your magic number. The last one left in each group is your winner. Keep counting through until you have only your last choice in each category left.

{photos via 1. Jax&thebeanstalk 2. Wikipedia 3. Architecture.com

4. GMC 5. Dog Breed Info 6. A+ Images 7. Patrick Webb}

Strawberry Memories

My aunt was an amazing chef, you could give her ketchup and crackers and she would make a delicious meal out of it. Her big cooking rule, though, was that everything tastes better fresh. She had a huge garden in her backyard, but what she didn't grow at home, my mom, sisters and I would pick at a farm with her.

We used to pick apples, grapes, pears, tomatoes, asparagus, rhubarb and many other vegetables at farms together.

My sisters' and my favorite farm was a little strawberry patch in the county. We would make a whole day trip out to the patch. My sister and I had a little competitions to see who could pick the most berries, while sneaking a few also.

So when my friends asked me to go pick strawberries today, I didn't hesitate, of course I would.

It was so much fun walking around and reliving childhood memories.

Once a Badger, Always a Badger

By dinner time on Saturday, I will be a Master of Science.

I will graduate from Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism with my masters degree in new media journalism. I don't think it's really hit me yet that I'll have my masters degree. It will probably set in some time in August.

Looking forward to my Northwestern graduation makes me think back to my University of Wisconsin graduation. It was easily one of the happiest and saddest days in my life. I was so sad that my undergrad experience was over.

I doubt there will ever be four more consecutive years in my life that were so enjoyable and amazing. I made so many great friends and memories in Madison that I will cherish forever.

I was so excited to finally earn my bachelors degree after four years.

At Wisconsin, it's tradition to climb the enormous Lincoln statue on the top of Bascom Hill and give Abe a kiss for good luck.

We ended our ceremony by singing "Varsity," a tradition at Wisconsin. I'm not sure how Northwestern will end the ceremony. I hope we don't have to sing, I don't know any NU songs.

Happy Places

Do you have any special places that make you happy just being there?

Me? I have tons: the Terrace in Madison, I could sit outside all day and have before; Wrigley Field, you can't ignore the excitement; the Art Institute of Chicago; and any coffee shop with friends... to name a few.

I get the excited tingles and a cheesy smile whenever I'm there. I love that feeling.

photo via city-data.com

A Memory

We probably should have brought Charlie to the doctor, but my aunt, being the head nurse at an emergency room in Kenosha, decided there was not enough blood to cause much concern. There never was.

Somewhere in her thirty years at the hospital she lost compassion for minor injuries.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure if they were third-degree burns, we would have taken him to the doctor.

Family vacations on Washington Island revolved around fireworks. We would relax until it was time to light fireworks, then after the fireworks we’d sit back and relax until it was time to light them again.

From sparklers and bottle rockets, to fountains and Roman Candles, to large rockets and mortars; we lit them all.

People from across the small island would come to Jackson Harbor to watch our fireworks displays, eliciting more excitement than the island’s civic show.

Every year was different. Some of our shows were brighter, some more colorful, some more exciting, and some more dangerous.

The darkness settled around us, our reflections no longer visible on the lake. It was time. This is what I waited impatiently for all year.

The fuse fizzled and ignited the fireworks sending sparks upward, creating an echoing boom as the mortar exploded like nearby thunder following colorful lightening.

Charlie grinned at the crowds approving cheers.

As the cinders and ash faded and drifted to the ground, Charlie leapt to the makeshift altar of rocks to light his prized piece, which was to be the climax of the night. A mammoth firework eight inches in diameter, ten inches in height, wrapped in colorful paper with a dozen connecting fuses that could be felt through the tissue-like paper.

He almost needed help carrying the explosive to the rocks, its weight rivaling that of a small child, a sign that it would not disappoint.

“Hey, the fuse on your big fancy firework went out. What a dud,” snidely remarked Andy, Charlie’s slightly younger sibling, brotherly rivalry making yet another appearance.

“So what, I’ll just relight it,” Charlie answered.

The screams from his throat were almost as explosive as the sparks shooting from the enormous mortar on the beach.

The fuse hadn’t gone out. It erupted as Charlie stepped closer to investigate and showered his arms with beautifully colored glowing embers. Which, by the sound of Charlie’s piercing screams, were much more painful than beautiful.

“Oh come over here, let me look at that,” said my Auntie Dee, or Auntie Sparkles as my younger sister called her due to her love of fireworks. I think I’m related to pyromaniacs, but that’s fine by me.

“Oh, that doesn’t seem very serious to me,” she assessed with less concern as a mother than a trained nurse.

“It hurts, it hurts,” said Charlie as he waved his arm in the air as though hoping the pain would fly away with the ash.

“Put some ice on it and sit down, it will be fine. I’ve seen much worse,” said Auntie Dee.

“Well,” said my Uncle Mike sarcastically. “In thirty years in an emergency room, you’re bound to see something worse.” True, which is probably why anything less than bone jutting through torn flesh was considered a “minor accident” to my aunt.

Auntie Dee bandaged his arm with the meticulousness of a baker decorating a wedding cake and sat back down to watch the rest of the fireworks display.

Charlie reluctantly grabbed a cold pop, rested it on his bandaged arm and sat down on a bench, a little farther from the fireworks than the rest of us. His nervousness showing through the smile he managed to fake as we questioned his condition.

We all knew he was done with lighting fireworks, at least for the night.

I Wish I Was There

On beautiful days like today, my friends and I would sit at the terrace, drink a pitcher of beer, have a brat and play cards. I miss those days.

Psst.. Pssst

I was cleaning out my closet earlier and I found a shoe box on the back shelf. It was full of little origami notes from friends in high school. It was so trippy to read them all, especially those from ex-boyfriends. You would not even believe what some of them said. How weird it was to remember the little moments in high school; they seemed big and important at the time. I think I may spend a couple hours reading through them and reliving my teenage years.

Did you pass notes in school? Do you remember what they said?