Bits and pieces

Winter's gotta be almost over, right?

StoryTimeSaturday: Give your younger self a time-travel hug

A decade ago, my 19-year-old self was hopelessly lost. I'd dropped out of college twice; I was desperately bored and sad; and more than anything I just wanted to believe that I was a grown-up when I felt anything but.

Today, I feel grown up (most of the time); I'm happy and fulfilled. And sometimes (often lately, for some reason) I daydream about going back to late 2002 and explaining to then-Heidi that everything turns out A-OK, that if you follow your own dreams and idea of success, you'll get there.

I spent that time in my life questioning whether I was making the right decisions, even though many people around me didn't think I was. But I did what I felt like I needed to do. I was selfish, and I found my personal passions — even if that took trying four different colleges. I made lots of dumb mistakes (sorry, Mom) that took me to precarious places. I'm not exactly proud of everything I did, but I don't regret it either.

Those decisions put me on course to become who I am today. I want to give 19-year-old me a big hug, show her pictures of my wedding, my awesome group of friends, and my byline in the newspaper and say, "See, it all turns out."

But I also want to thank her for daring to go against what was expected of her to find what she really wanted — a creative job and life. I have very few regrets looking back, and that's because I've largely followed my internal compass, picking up external pieces of good advice from some very smart people. Surround yourself with those people, but if their guidance doesn't right true, it isn't what you should do. Listen to that almost-adult inside of you. She's smarter than you think.

So silly, lost, confused 19-year-old me, thank you. You're doing awesome.

*Hug*

Source: buzzfeed.com via Robin on Pinterest

I'm not ready to forget Chris Brown assaulted a woman

Like many people in American I was NOT okay with Chris Brown's "comeback" this week on the Grammy's. In fact, I was so not okay about his performance right after Rihanna, that I wrote about it.

I don't share a lot of my articles that I do for work on this blog, but I think this is one issue that every woman (and men, too!) in our society should be having a conversation about.

So please read it here and let me know what you think.

TimeTravelTuesday: Feb. 14, 2010

Two years ago today, I got engaged. Wow. Time flies, huh?

I don't know that I've ever recounted this story on my blog, so here goes:

On Valentine's night I returned home from a late shift of page designing at work. I wasn't in the best of moods when I walked in the door, but that quickly changed once I saw the spread on our dining room table. Troy had made heart-shaped cupcakes, which were in fact hearts cut out of a sheet cake with cookie cutters (so cute). He had set the table with wine glasses and some candles.



I'd  hinted for a couple of months that I was ready to get married, but for some reason it didn't occur to me that this would be the night we got engaged, even after seeing Troy's preparations. We always celebrate Valentine's Day, but we aren't really mushy-gushy romantics about it. So I just assumed he wouldn't be the type to propose on Valentine's.

We took our time drinking wine and eating cupcakes, chatting away. Troy kept prolonging our gift opening, which I found strange since we'd essentially picked out our own gifts during a recent shopping trip. When I finally started unwrapping mine, the perfume I'd selected was in the package along with a jewelry box I didn't recognize.

I continued talking away (because that's what I do ), and was fiddling with the drawers of the jewelry box when all of a sudden I realized something else I'd picked out was inside. MY RING.



The rest is a blur. I remember him saying, "So you want to get married?" and I, of course said, "Yes." Despite it being 3 a.m., I still tried calling my best friend. I barely slept that night, so excited to tell me family. I woke up at 6 a.m. to call my mom and sister.

We'd originally said we wouldn't set a date for a while, but that morphed into us picking New Year's Day. Ten months later we got married.

TopTenTuesday: My ten most-popular blog posts

We're already more than a week into the new year, but heck, I like reflecting. There are a number of new blog followers here at OliveObserver, so a big shout out and welcome to them.




I really love statistics. I don't know why, but part of the fun of blogging for me has been to watch which posts are popular and try to figure out how random people are landing on my little ol' blog. It's fun and fascinating.

So without further hesitation, here are the top 10 viewed posts of 2011:

10. MondayMust: My must-visit daily blog reads
Dec. 19, 2011

9. StoryTimeSaturday: Bean Boozled
Dec. 31, 2011

8. WardrobeWednesday: DIY shoe projects
Nov. 30, 2011

7. StoryTimeSaturday: Wedding invites and crosswords
Nov. 19, 2011

6. TopTenTuesday: Best books I've read in 2011
Dec. 6, 2011

5. FridayConfession: Not ready for Christmas
Dec. 16, 2011

4. Hand-made owl costume
Oct. 31, 2011

3. FiveThingsFriday: Toilet paper roll
Dec. 2, 2011

2. New hairs
Dec. 8, 2011

1. StoryTimeSaturday: Wedding cake and decor
Dec. 3, 2011

I also did a couple of guest posts on other blogs, if you want to check them out:


50 Days of DIY on the Paper Mama: Christmas tree skirt

TeenyTutorial: DIY cake plate over at Pamplemousse1983

GiveThanksThursday: Interviewing an idol

I know a lot of people who complain about their jobs. I, however, am thankful that I am doing what I love and all of the amazing people I get to meet along the way.

 (source)






Last week I interviewed Bob Woodward, probably the greatest journalist alive right now, and I say that with no hyperbole. As a journalist, I interview a few people a day, but I have to admit this was the most nerve-wracking ones I've done. It was an incredible experience that reminded me how lucky I am to do what I do.

What are you thankful for today?

Busy times

oh hai.

I apologize for my lack of interesting posts lately. It's been an incredibly busy couple of weeks lately. Between wedding planning, a new job at work and gearing up for the second major flood in as many years leaves little time to do much of anything post-worthy.

We've made lots of wedding plans lately, which I have managed to post a few of on our wedding blog.

I also received word today that I am up for a Society of Professional Journalists Mark of Excellence award, as is the magazine I was editor of last year.

I moved over to reporting this week, and it's been a great transition thus far.

So that's some of what I've been up to, what's new with you?

Published finally

I just finished ordering my Blurb book for my final project in my documentary photography class. I'm really happy with the way it turned out and cannot wait to have the hard copy in hand.

I've designed other books before for weddings, etc., but never for a documentary project. I like the format for different collections and plan to use Blurb more often.

To see my book (or you can even order it for $33.95), go here.

I'm curious to see others' Blurb books if you're willing to post a link. Has anyone out there in blog land used blurb.com before?

One final project down, three to go.

Forward and back

On my way home from my great-grandmother's funeral, I turned off the radio and drove in silence, so I could enjoy the late summer drive through Minnesota and unwind. Through the open window, I felt the late September heat as a warm wind buzzed in my ears and kissed my face. It was that time of afternoon when the sun is low enough in the sky that the car visor no longer shielded my eyes. Dust, insects and birds were backlit in a dreamlike vision.

Following the burial service at a cemetery a small town away, I came to visit another cemetery where my infant brother and great-grandparents were buried. As I stepped out of the car, holding my hand as a visor above my eyes, the sun illuminated a rabble of butterflies. I recognized them as Danaus plexippus, the monarch butterfly and remembered a time when they were more than just a rabble—they were my special project.

Throughout my childhood, my dad worked at a wildlife research center in central North Dakota. My older sister and I grew up accompanying him on various wildlife adventures. My earliest memory took place at the center when, at age 3, I followed my dad along a weed-lined path. Near the edge of the path, a fence encased a group of animals the center was studying. “Don’t touch the fence,” my dad warned, as we got closer. As most curious three year olds would, I grabbed the fence. A bolt of electricity traveled through my body.

The summer before I started sixth grade, I grew particularly interested in research the center was doing on monarch butterflies. The biologists and statisticians spent countless hours recording and calculating mating, reproduction, and metamorphosis cycles. I was most interested in the metamorphosis stage.

My research began without the intention of it really being research. My dad and I wandered along the gravel road near our house and came upon milkweed—the only plant in which monarch caterpillars will feast. As I examined the weed, I began to find caterpillars of nearly the same bright color green, devouring the leaves. I could actually see the leaves shrinking before my eyes. I broke off a branch of the plant, careful not to disturb the caterpillar's noshing and carried it home.

I found a Mason jar my mom used for canning our yearly apple harvest. I slipped the branch into the jar, covered the top with paper towel and screwed on the gold ring used to hold the lid in place. The jar sat on the windowsill in the basement for a couple of days. I replaced the milkweed daily, keeping my caterpillar happy.

One day, I couldn't find my caterpillar on the milkweed. I was almost convinced he had mysteriously escaped from the jar when I spotted his white, fuzzy cocoon hanging from the paper towel. Over the next couple of days, I checked on him every chance I got. On the third day, I began to see the orange and black tips of his new wings. Soon he emerged a beautiful butterfly, and I released him where I found him and began to search for a new caterpillar that I could watch transform.

It wasn't hard to find a new one. In fact, I wasn't sure I'd be able to find enough jars for all the new caterpillars I had found. My mom probably wondered what I was doing running up and down the stairs and in and out the back door. I don’t think she ever noticed her canning jars disappearing one by one.

I named each caterpillar and gave it a number and recorded its measurements and length of the metamorphosis cycle. Some caterpillars took three days to transform, others emerged only a day after I found them. One caterpillar remained in its cocoon for nearly a week. My anxiety heightened each day as I wondered when it would emerge. One morning, the cocoon disappeared. I looked for a flash of orange and black. Instead, the lifeless cocoon lay at the bottom of the jar. Tears welled in my eyes, and I left my caterpillars unattended for the rest of the day.

It probably wasn’t my fault he didn’t make it, and I knew there were many more caterpillars to take care of in my basement. My work continued. With each release, I gained a deeper understanding of its life cycle.

By the end of the summer, I had caught and released several dozen butterflies. I also had the makings of a pretty good science project for school the next year. Most importantly though, I learned about how fragile a life can be.

I stood in the cemetery and looked at the gravestone carved with my brother’s name and a date that reveals he didn’t even live a day. Next to it, stood the large gravestone of my great-grandparents, who both lived into their 80s to see their grandchildren’s’ families grow. I thought of my butterflies. Some caterpillars never made it into their cocoons, while others never made it out. Some made it through the summer, the long fall migration and rough winter, back up north in the spring to lay eggs of new caterpillars.