Hey people it’s me again. I’m back on this thing so we’ll see how long this lasts. As some of you know, I go to school in Indiana, it’s like super random and like in the middle of nowhere. Most of my friends at school are from this wonderful state, usually from a suburb of Indianapolis that ends in a “ville” or “burg”. I always try to convince these Indianans (I think that’s what they prefer to go by) to come visit me in my lovely state but no one really finds Southern Canada to be that appealing no matter how nice we are or how many big ponds we have.
Finally my friend Lexi from the land of Indiana ventured to Minnesota last week. Success at last. I finally got one of them to come out to my mysterious homeland (don’t tell anyone that it was only because she had a layover and delayed flight and only stayed for 12 hours it still counts okay?)
I picked up Lexi from the airport and gave her the classic tour de ‘sota. Showed her all of our huge ponds, world’s largest shopping mall (didn’t make it to the world’s largest ball of twine… sorry Lex, next time), pretended to know the difference between St. Paul and Minneapolis, and revealed where the moccasins are at. Side note: Yes I live in Minnetonka, like the moccasins.
While I was showing her all of these things and trying to prove that Minnesota is more than just some state way up there, she managed to notice one of the greatest things about this state without the help of tour guide Libs. While headed to the lake, we sat at a four way stop for a solid 2 minutes. Each car flagging the other one to go ahead, refusing to go until the other does. I didn’t even think twice about this little gesture but once we finally made moves from the four-way halt, Lexi brought to my attention that waiting this long at a four way stop isn’t a thing in most places. Interesting. Maybe my commute to work would be a little quicker if I didn’t freaking do the Macarena flagging people across every day. Or maybe my run would go a little faster if I didn’t have a full on conversation with everyone I pass on the trail.
Although we may not have some crazy landmarks or an all star sports team, I realized I should really to give this state of ours a little more credit. It’s not everywhere that you can meet 10+ new BFFs on a walk or have a stranger who feels bad for you on your first day working downtown and pays for you when you get on the wrong bus home (that’s another story PS I work now) So moral of the story is, we really have it good here and it’s time for us to appreciate those extra couple minutes we spend every day frantically waving complete strangers across the road.
Keep being nice my friends.
Until who knows when,
PS for those of you who want to visit now, mi casa es su casa.
Sporting my favorite shirt for my favorite state.
So today I was catapulted back into the nanny world with a trip to every nanny’s dream slash worst nightmare all rolled into one: The Big Thrill Factory aka Chuck E Cheeses’ on steroids. I entered the lion’s den, experiencing complete sensory overload. Automatically feeling myself contracting a nice cold or possible flu virus. So many sounds, lights, overly excited staff members, germs. Although this was a sudden and rude welcoming back into the nanny world, I definitely learned a couple things from creepily watching and observing the kids there today:
- When it comes to the ball pit, even the best of friends can become your worst enemy. It’s every man or woman for themselves in the pit.
- As long as you say “…but no offense” after whatever you do or say, it doesn’t count. This is 100% foolproof. I witnessed a girl tell another girl that she was mean and sucked at the game, but had a stellar “no offense” follow-up and the friendship continued as if nothing was ever said. ***I plan to carry this strategy into my upcoming semester i.e.: “you’re a terrible teacher and I don’t agree with anything you say, no offense.”
- Every ride is the best ride ever for approximately 2 minutes until you move on and find the next best ride.
- The amount of lemonade consumed is directly proportional to the amount of success one experiences in the mole-pounding game. ***Also applies to the Dance Dance Revolution game.
- Only the most determined of Thrill Factory goers will ever make it to the 500 prize level disco ball. It takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to surpass the many tattoos and candy options in order to save up for the big leagues.
Aside from all of these new things I learned today, more importantly, I learned that kids really know how to play and us ‘adults’, or whatever we call ourselves these days, could learn a thing or two from them. It doesn’t matter what exactly they were doing, whom they were with, the viruses they’re contracting, what exactly is in that lemonade etc. they simply just played. With that being said, I think we should all take some time to just play and learn a little something from kids, they’ve got a lot to teach us.
Until who knows when,
PS: I will do everything in my power to avoid arcades of any sort for a while now … no offense or anything
PPS: Unless I can get that disco ball
Sorry I’ve been out of this blog thing for a while, I know you all have missed me dearly but hey I’m back so you all can calm down okay?
As most of you probably know, my mom, one of the only people I ever write about (you guys all must think I have a lot of friends), is trying out for a church production of the Sound of Music. I would be surprised if you didn’t know this since she has been talking about it for the past 6 months. Yes, all summer she wandered the house singing “doe a deer a female deeeeer” for all to enjoy. After months of nerves and long hours of preparation for her moment to shine, the auditions finally took place tonight. After a phone call with her in which she serenaded me and made a big strategy change from “Edelweiss” to “Doe-Re-Mi” to better display her true talent and potential to be more than a Nun, she was ready. With high hopes to get a Von Trapp or maybe even Maria, Annie went into the tryouts with more determination than I had in first grade when I went for the part of Gretel in the class production of Hansel and Gretel (don’t wanna talk about it). Whether she gets Mrs. Von Trapp or a Nun, my mom has proven to me that it’s never too late to pursue your passions, and that there’s also still hope for my acting career even if I was always a chorus person or weather girl #3 (one of my better roles). So go out and do what you love regardless of whether you’re Nun material or what, you will never know until you try.
Until who knows when,
PS: Mrs. O’Leary if you’re reading this, I still haven’t gotten over the whole Gretel thing but don’t consider this chorus girl down for the count just yet
With the county fairs in full swing and the state fair creeping up on us, I thought I would dedicate this Star of the Week to a very special group of people: The Leash kids. For those of you who are not familiar with this poor group, the leashing of kids has been an up and coming trend these past few years. Parents literally attach a leash to their children in order to keep track of them in large groups of people. The leash kids deserve Star of the Week simply for putting up with their leash-bearing parents and for the true patience and perseverance. Whenever I spot one of them in public I admire this attitude I see in them. Every single one of these kids just keeps their head down and always has pure determination in their eyes, except now that I think about it, maybe that’s just because the leash limits their range of motion. Well regardless, leash kids, you keep your head down and one day, you will be freed from the leash. Until that day comes, maybe consider getting one of those harnesses that some dogs have, they seem to be pretty comfortable.
Until who knows when,
A leash kid I spotted walking around Lake Calhoun, awkward glances were exchanged between this kid and the many dogs that day
First of all, apologies for the lack of posts lately, I’ve been busy with life. And by life I mean Netflix, my new Chelsea Handler book, and other super important things. But since I’ve been out of the blog-o-sphere for a while now and I know you all haven’t really known what to do with yourselves during this reprieve, I thought I’d hit you all with something new I’m going to start doing every once in a while (in case you haven’t noticed I like to keep my deadlines pretty lax around here, hence the Until who knows when and every once in a while) called the Star of the Week. Much like the prized position in Kindergarten, I will be rewarding people who do an exceptional job in life in general.
With that, I present to you… my first ever Star of the Week:
So this weekend I was able to get out on the trail for a few good runs to enjoy the beautiful weather. With such nice weather, the trail fills up with walkers, joggers, bikers, and my personal favorite: tandem bikers. Which brings me to our Star of the Week… the people who make the smart decision to occupy the second seat on the tandem bike. After seeing tandem bike couple after tandem bike couple on my runs, I have started to notice a pattern amongst these bikers. The person in the front is always focused and putting in maximum effort, while much to the oblivion of the front biker, the person behind is almost always just along for the ride doing the absolute minimum amount of work required. Enjoying the scenery, waving to fellow trail inhabitants as they pass, with a smirk on their face saying “Yeah I know I’ve got it all figured out”, the second rider enjoys themselves while the front biker pedals away. These people define the phrase “Work smarter, not harder”. While this work ethic may be frowned upon, I am giving these people Star of the Week because of the pure intelligence they demonstrate and also because they always wave to me as they pass. So to all of the slacker tandem bike riders out there, keep up the good work people, I like your style.
Until who knows when,
PS shout out to all of the front bikers out there as well, without you, this Star of the Week would have never been made possible
Dear young boy who I know is racing me,
I’m onto you. Every time I increase my speed it’s echoed by the beep of your treadmill. Is this how it’s gonna go? You really wanna do this? Alright you’re on. You may be a solid 6-8 years younger than me, but you’re the one who started this so the competition is on buddy. I understand you’re a Chanhassen Middle School Track and Field hot shot from the t-shirt you’re sporting, but when it comes to treadmill racing I am a serious competitor. Alright, level 6.0 I can do this, this is good, nice and steady, I will slowly take down this kid. 6.2? Okay this is fine, I can keep up. The war has begun, both of us are getting serious whiplash from exchanging glances at each other’s screens. 6.5? What kind of middle school track star are you? Whatever I refuse to lose to this guy, no giving up, I can do this. 7.0? OKAY USAIN BOLT PUMP THE BRAKES DUDE. He’s for sure gonna burn out soon, just stick it out for a couple more minutes and you’ll lose him. Come on Libs, you got it. But then he reaches to the screen once again… 7.5. You have got to be kidding me. What are these middle schools even feeding these kids? I give up, you win this time, kid. I hesitantly reach to my screen and with great disappointment press the stop button as he smirks to himself. I should probably go re-evaluate my lifestyle of racing young middle schoolers while lying on the mats pretending to do abs.
Until who know when,
PS: If you have a slower, younger sibling that I would have better chances of beating, let me know
In honor of Father’s day today, the Kapsner crew piled in the car and headed out to the second largest gathering of Minnesota’s finest (right behind the State Fair) …a Twin’s game. For those of you who know my dad, he is just a regular guy who enjoys the everyday things in life. He had one simple request for the day and that was to arrive to the game early enough so that he could be one of the first 10,000 fans to receive a Twin’s spatula that doubles as a bottle opener, every man’s dream right? So, in order to satisfy my dad’s request, the family piled in the car a good two hours before the first pitch. It felt as if we were leaving for the airport in typical Kappy fashion which is always arriving 3 or more hours early to our flight, which I have never understood but that’s a whole other topic to be discussed later. Luckily we got to the game early enough to make it in with the elite crowd of 10,000 and secured a spatula in the fierce competition. You would have thought my dad won the lottery based on his excitement when he got this spatula. Moral of the story, arriving to the ballpark a solid hour early left much time for one of my favorite pastimes, people watching. Spatula in hand, it was time for the Kapsner’s to take on the many mullets, cut off t-shirts accompanied by awful tan lines, and 50 shades of khaki cargo shorts. It was a perfect day spent taking in the aromatic ballpark smell of sweaty people and hotdogs, listening to my mom mispronounce the player’s names, and being with my favorite people. Above all, today provided me with a much-needed reminder to always appreciate the simple things in life like my dad always has. Whether it is a hard-earned spatula or just spending time with the people you love, enjoy it people.
Until who knows when,
Paul carefully guarding his sacred spatula. Me with my favorite dude.
So today I did what I used to think was only a task for the insane… I ran a marathon. It was all around an amazing experience, I was able to check another thing off my bucket list, qualified for Boston 2014 and along the way learned some valuable lessons. Here are a couple things I learned today:
- When in doubt, act like you know what you’re doing. The start line is the ultimate zone of judgment. Everyone is doing confusing stretches, consuming weird gels, bars, and beans making me wonder if my oatmeal breakfast is magical enough, and flaunting the shortest of shorts (side note: if you’re a man and your shorts are shorter than mine, you need to reconsider your wardrobe choices). I made the rookie mistake of waiting to go to the bathroom ‘til I got there, thus forcing myself to wait in the ridiculously long bathroom line. While stepping out of the port-a-potty I looked at my watch and realized I had 2 minutes until start time. The start line is about a 5-minute walk from the drop off so I turned this little walk into a brisk jog so I’d make it in time. A nice unexpected warm up. I jogged right up to the start line and continued to run across the start line into the race. Yeah…I totally meant to do this warm up. ***10 intimidation points for Libs***
- Turns out, people don’t like to chat during these things. This lesson was learned very quickly. “Have you run many marathons before?” “Yeah” “Cool. Good talk.”
- Never trust workout Barbie. It was almost mile number 10 and I was feeling a little tired. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a pink blur quickly approaching. Adorned in a hot pink matching tank top and shorts, sporting the highest of ponies, she ran up beside me and introduced herself with“Hi I’m Cami, we can do this!” Cami continued to push me and we encouraged each other for the next couple miles. We were running at a pretty good pace and pumping one another up as we ran along. Cami and I were BFFs until mile marker 13 came along and workout Barbie turned into my worst enemy. She waved to me and said “You got it girl!” as she veers to the left to cross the half marathon finish line as I continue for another 13 miles. YEAH THANKS A LOT CAMI.
- No gel, bar, or gear will get you across that finish line better than a screaming mom, dad and best friend. Some of the other runners may have had better equipment than I did, but I guarantee that I had the best cheering section there. There’s really nothing better than a screaming mom with several staring spectators to pull me across the finish line. Also, honorable mention to the little girl with the puppy hat on that gave me a high five, you rock.
- I can always count on the announcer to mispronounce my last name. But no matter how badly the announcer butchers your last name as you cross the finish line, in the end, it’s all about the crazy people who are waiting there for you. It takes a special level of love/insanity for a person to wake up at 5 am on a Sunday morning and drive all the way to Minneapolis to watch someone suffer as they run the last few strides across the finish line. Whether it’s Kasper, Kaspner, or any of the other endless possibilities, I feel beyond blessed to have people waiting for me at that finish line and supporting me through all the ridiculous things I decide to do.
Until who knows when,
PS: I’ll probably have a different view on this whole marathon thing when I wake up and try to get out of bed tomorrow morning…
The many faces of my number one cheerleader.
This morning I woke up feeling full of regret as I looked into the mirror. With summer, comes all questionable decisions. Yesterday I got bored. And what else does a crazy 19 year old do when she’s feeling bored but go chop all of her hair off? Seems logical right? Don’t worry people; I didn’t go completely Britney Spears-psycho, just a casual 12 inches. After years of straightening, curling, crimping (yes, we all make mistakes) and wrapping my long locks into buns, it was time for a change. After my stylist questioned my sanity and made sure that I wasn’t on any severe medications or drugs, she made the first cut. I cringed as I sat in the salon chair watching it all fall, forming a small animal on the floor as my stylist continued to talk about her recent Pinterest crafting. DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING TO ME? WHY DON’T I LOOK LIKE THE PICTURE OF JENNIFER ANISTON I BROUGHT ALREADY? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE ANYMORE? After a few dramatic moments I was over it and embraced my mild Britney Spears move and my new short do. Although I can’t run my fingers through my long locks anymore, someone else can now. I was lucky enough to be able to donate all twelve inches to Locks of Love for a cancer patient who is not as fortunate as I am. While I am experiencing a mild Haircut Hangover this morning, it’s reassuring to know that someone is able to have something that I’ve always taken for granted. Everyone makes questionable hair decisions, like the bowl cut Annie had me sporting for way past when it was considered cute, my many years of bangs, or the numerous up do’s I donned for all of those High School dances, but at least someone else can benefit from my decision this time. So here’s to my new mom haircut and sheer boredom, all in the name of charity.
Until who knows when,
PS: I think the Star Tribune is stalking me or something… The cover of the Variety section this morning included an article all about the new bob cut. The perfect cure to my Haircut Hangover.
So today I did something I normally don’t enjoy doing…I ventured into the bright, white utopia full of nerdy guys running around in blue shirts holding various technologically advanced devices A.K.A The Apple Store. Lost and confused, I walked up to one of these guys and asked if they can help me with my recently broken phone. He quickly swiped and I watched in awe as his little fingers moved at light speed across his iPad and before I knew it, I had an appointment with The Genius. Trust me, it’s really not as cool as it sounds. I waited around for 45 minutes until it was my turn to meet with The Genius (Side note: every time I type The Genius I say it in my head in a deep voice like from Wizard of Oz, and I suggest you do the same, it makes it way more fun). Long story short, I met with The Genius, who’s name is actually Tim, but I’m still gonna refer to him as The Genius. Within 1 minute we came to the conclusion that the only solution to my problem is a small price of $199. Awesome. After hearing this news, I figured I should make use of my time with The Genius. So I picked his brain on some pressing topics. Like why my Cat Effects app closes out every time I open it. Or why I don’t get texts or phone calls (Just kidding… I’m well aware that this issue has nothing to do with the technology behind my phone). After these critical matters were addressed, my time with The Genius was over. I walked away feeling technologically obsolete and with this mysterious floating white dot he made appear on my screen. Lessons learned? 1. The Genius is not as cool as it sounds. 2. I’m totally okay with being technologically challenged and 3. That shade of blue wouldn’t even look good on me.
Until who knows when,
PS: Seriously if anyone knows what the heck this mysterious white dot (refer to picture below) is… please report to me.
PPS: I was serious about the call/text thing, feel free to contact me people, I’m bored.