I love Indiana in the springtime...

It is the end of March and temperatures have been in the high 70s here for several days now. Yesterday I think we may have even hit the 80 degree mark. I cannot stress enough how uplifting some warm weather can be after one of the coldest winters I can remember, and I'm starting to get a taste of what summer will be like here, now that I've begun to settle in.

The problem is, no one's quite prepared for this early heat. A few examples:

Sadly, the local ice cream stand is not yet open. I checked yesterday, just to be sure.

That plan being a bust, I decided that maybe I'd get my hands dirty today and plant some flowers. Again, a little too early for that, so the pickings are mighty slim at most stores.

Sunday we had to settle for having a bbq overlooking a pool cover, since only two weeks ago there was a sheet of ice over the ground and therefore the pool's not open.

But I'm not complaining; there will be plenty of time for those things in a month or two. Just let the sun shine in.

Wine rack on the cheap

Since my mother does interiors for a living, I have always been conscious of my interior spaces: trying different arrangements, painting when possible, making curtains and throw pillows, etc. I've finally reached a point where I've started actually having a plan to my attack where I go and buy things to fit what I want my place to look like, but unfortunately my plans and my budget do not necessarily coincide. So, I generally use my ingenuity to engineer something closely resembling some fab idea I saw in a magazine. Such was the case with my new wine rack.

Several months ago I spied a wall rack in a popular furnishing catalog that would fit perfectly with my wall of glasses and solve the problem of my wine bottles collecting dust on the floor. It was somewhat unique, the right size and style, and also $80. My heart said I wanted it, but my brain said I could make it.

So, I took myself to a local home store and looked at every hook possible. The problem is that I wanted to be sure to have hooks that were deep enough to accommodate any bottle (which rules out every cabinet, jacket, and towel hook) but still incorporated some sense of style (negating most garage-type utility hooks). I had basically given up when I wandered into the garden department to buy some flowers. Eureeka! Hanging basket hooks were the perfect solution. Relatively cheap ($20 for all six), beautifully designed, sturdy, and more than deep enough, I was on my way to the perfect wine rack.

I chose two different hooks for each bottle, a 7" for the body and a similar 5" version for the neck, but mostly only because there weren't enough of the 7" hooks to have them all be the same. I arranged them in an alternating, vertically linear pattern, but the genius of having several free hooks as opposed to the mounted ones of the store-bought rack is that they can be arranged in any configuration that would work for the space. It was a pretty simple project, however, I would probably put the hooks a bit closer together next time (they are currently 10" apart, but I would recommend 8"). I do think I'll be going back to get one more set to add to the bottom, to make the arrangement more symmetric (and have room for more vino!)

Dear Urban Planners of Elkhart, I hate you

I almost never get lost. Truly, I was blessed with an above-average sense of direction and actually shred the stereotype of the girl who doesn't know where north is and can't read a map. However, last night's attempt at a nice, romantic date to a wonderful Italian restaurant was a complete fiasco due to the completely asinine naming of roads in my neck of the woods.

First, imagine me all foxified in this glorious new dress: curve hugging, slimming, red and black satin. Heels are on, hair done. Local Boy is sacrificing his sleep and health to take me out after an 8-hour masters class and a week of the flu. I should have suspected things would not go well when LB mentioned that he never drives to Elkhart because it's just too confusing, even though he's lived here most of his life. I write him off, knowing he has no sense of direction and having faith in my navigational abilities. After all, I'd been to this restaurant twice before, albeit months ago, and had double-checked the map before heading out to confirm the location.

My directions were clear: we basically just had to take 20. What I did not foresee was that there are FOUR roads all named 20 that run east-west within two miles of one another: county road 20, the bypass 20, business route 20, and 120. We drove for an hour and a half and never found the 20 we wanted (I think BR20). By this time, it was already 9:30 and even if we had found the mythical route to the restaurant, it would likely be near closing time. So, we headed back to our own town and went to one of the generic chain restaurants. The food was fine, and the service is superior when you're one of the last customers in the place, but it wasn't what I had envisioned when I donned the red dress.

What I did learn, however, was perhaps worth the effort. Even though we were starving, sick, tired, and lost, we had a good time in that hour and a half. There were none of the irritated, bitter silences or accusations (well, maybe a few good-humored ones) that usually accompany such situations. It ended up not mattering at all where we were, since we were in good company.

Welcome to Sunny Indiana

I'm being sucked in. I didn't really think it would happen, but the past few weeks I've noticed I've been experiencing this strange new sensation that I've felt at moments before, but has started to permeate into everything I do. I think it's called happiness. Bizarre, I know.

Last August I moved from a Detroit suburb to northern Indiana ("Michiana" to the locals) to start my first "real" job. I was excited about the job, but not wholly enthralled by the locale. Nothing personal to you Hoosiers, but us Michiganders in general truly believe that we are, well, superior beings. (I'm not sure where this attitude stems from- maybe a form of state sibling rivalry. I was shocked to learn that my Indiana colleagues feel the same way about my native state, but I think it's just peninsula envy.) Sure that there was nothing to compare to the excitement of living a few miles from Hockeytown, I resigned myself to life among the Amish.

I wasn't wrong my first semester. I threw myself into a whirlwind schedule, working 60+ hours a week (pretty normal for a first-year teacher, I think), but somehow didn't make friends as quickly as I have other places. I blamed the small-town biblebelt elitist attitude of the people around me. Weekends were taken up by the marching band I was working with and desperate trips back to spend time with my friends and family in my beautiful Michigan. In November, I tracked the gubernatorial election fanatically, then trudged over to my local Indiana polls to cast sullen votes in a state I didn't plan to stay trapped in for long. From Thanksgiving until Christmas break I went home every weekend for various reasons. Except one.

A colleague invited me out to the bar to hear a local cover band. I met some people, heard some great music, and actually had fun. Real fun, with real Hoosiers, in Indiana. Who knew?

I haven't been back to Michigan since early January. I'm starting to make friends here now, both young and old. Hardly the cultural wasteland I once thought, I now have to decide what I want to do tonight with my new local boy: fabulous authentic Italian restaurant or great sushi? Chekhov play, big band concert, Broadway production of Chicago, or bluegrass festival? Either way, I know we'll have a great time.

So I guess I really am settling in here, despite myself. It'll never be Michigan, but I think it might work for me. At least it's not Ohio.