our march madness

This time of year warms my heart and makes me so excited I almost can't breathe for a second. My whole everything is happy and I'm pretty sure my heart jumps out of my chest each time I step outside and feel the increase in humidity, see the longer hours of daylight.

Growing up, this time of year meant one thing, and one thing only: Sandestin.

Every year we made the drive from Zionsville to Sandestin, happily packed in to some sort of mega-large vehicle. There was one trip when we went to Sanibel instead and it turned out to be a Red Tide year and there were dead animals all over the beach. And I don't technically think it's Sanibel's fault, but after that, we never ventured anywhere but Sandestin and Rosemary Beach for our family spring break. The Emerald Coast has our hearts.

 

Later in life our cousins starting joining us in Sandestin too, which made it that much more of a party.

It was at this point that things really got good for us Hoosiers, because our bracketology went from being a tournament from afar, to us being able to watch the games together - over feasts, with sunkissed skin and the kind of happy exhaustion that comes only from a long day at the beach. We basically created our very own version of March Madness.

Now, as we're living far apart - from Colorado to Texas to Indiana to D.C. and all sorts of stops along the way, our pool remains in tact. And it's the kind of tradition that makes me almost as happy as the balmy spring itself. It's something you know you can count on - that the email from my uncle, Mikey, will hit our inboxes. That the inevitable trash talk will come next. That my mom will make her picks based on (1) loyalty to Indiana, (2) loyalty to the Midwest and (3) the jerseys she likes.

And it's the reminder that no matter how far apart we are, or how old we get, some things never change. And when it comes to these guys, that's just the way I like it.

 

warmed me up

I don't often seek out cold weather voluntarily, so heading to Chicago in mid-March, the time of year when the Mason-Dixon line divides the Midwest and South most clearly with a thermometer, might not seem like something I'd do. But the thing about Chicago is that there are so many people there that I love, that even when it's snowing, I'm warmed all the way to my core. 

This weekend, I visited Sara and Katie in Chicago for St. Patrick's day and the weekend was pure bliss. It's weird, because you think you're obsessed with people and then you have a weekend like this and become even more obsessed when you didn't even think that was possible. 

  

Friday, we went to a new bar called Bub City, which plays country music exclusively. My dear friend Callie met up with us, which only made it that much sweeter. Callie and I met freshman year of college when we were at UChicago and although I left for Indiana sophomore year, we never miss a beat when we're together. 

{Old picture because we were, as Callie said, too busy dancing to snap pics Friday night. But this girl needs some air time.}

Saturday, our friend Austin had a party. He'd planned for it to be exclusively rooftop, but the snow had other plans in mind. It turned into an indoor/outdoor when-you-could-handle-it party. 

{Loved loved loved seeing Kelley & Allyson. A lot.}

Sunday, we went to Sara's spin class before I flew out. It was hard. Sara the spin instructor rocked us. We incentivized it with the promise of large coffees afterward. At one point, when we were climbing a hill and struggling through, Katie looked over at me and mouthed: COFFEE. It was worth the work. 

After the whirlwinding died down Sunday afternoon, we realized I had 15 minutes to shower and leave for the airport. And then we were like: Wait. What happened? Where did this weekend go? It just began. 

And we didn't think it was cool of the airline for demanding promptness. 

So I'm counting down the days until I can see these amazing people again soon. I'm thinking a Cinco de Mayo celebration just might be in order. Until then...

¡Olé!

farewell everybody's

Last night, Katie G. and I partied like it was 2008. 

Back then, when I had a summer internship in Atlanta, I was also having a love affair with one Atlanta's finest restaurants: Everybody's. By the end of the summer, my then-boyfriend and I joked about an all-too-familiar conversation, which was along the lines of me saying: "Can we try somewhere new tonight?" and then about 20 seconds later, "Actually, can we go to Everybody's?"

It was an obsession. 

It was the first place I ate in Atlanta when my dad moved me here to intern, the first place I took my mom when she visited, the only place I agreed to eat for the entirety of my senior year when I visited, and the site of many other milestones along the way. 

So, when we found out that Everybody's is closing next Monday, we had to bid the sweet place adieu. 

We did it up 2008 style, which included a run for me on Emory's campus, a walk with Katie in Lullwater and then, of course, dinner at Everybody's. 

In other words, it was just a typical night [4.5 years ago]. 

We were fortunate enough to end up talking to the owner, Tom, for a bit and he told us stories about mistakes they've made (a long time ago when they tried out valet parking), the calls he's received this week after announcing the closing (people calling from India; flying in for one last time!) and what's coming to the corner next (a pub, in fact).

The place was absolutely packed - standing room only, with an hour + wait for a two-person table. 

While we waited, I decided to go a little emo and asked Katie if we could reflect on how we have changed since our first summer living together. We laughed about how different our lives are now. Did you expect it? Did you not? How much money would you have put on XY&Z happening? And all of the questions that only a dose of rosy retrospection and hindsight 20/20 can answer. 

So, farewell Everybody's. Thank you for the dates, the laughs and the sweet tradition. Atlanta will be missing a slice of happiness without you. 

::finally on time::

I gave up lateness for Lent this year.

This basically means that I stopped saying things like "I don't know why I'm always late! It just happens and time is like this black hole and all of the sudden I'm late." and instead started telling myself, in no uncertain terms, that I'm not quite as awesome as I think I am, and I cannot, in fact, load the dishwasher and clean the bathroom and drive across town in 20 minutes.

I resolved it at the start of my 26th year and then again at the start of the new year but was met with only marginal success.

But with this Lenten challenge, things are on the right track. I've only been late one time during the stretch, but that's not so bad for a chronic struggler. What I've found is that:

1. It feels good to be on time. I used to be obnoxiously punctual (i.e. in high school) and I forgot how it makes you feel uber prepared and together. The empty dishwasher feels better at the end of the night, but on the front end, the extra few minutes to get it together are equally as fulfilling.
2. When people are late, it's kind of annoying. Sheesh. That was annoying when I was late so much, I'll bet, to all those people who were on time.

With these revelations, I'm thinking this punctuality is going to re-become the name of my game. There aren't a lot of things I'd like to bring back from high school (like cargo pants, Abercrombie or mega-flares), but for this one, I'm making an exception.

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