So this counts as my post for last week because I started it last week (sort of).

I am just about finished with Donald Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years”. A review of the book is to come. Well actually, I won’t have a whole ton to say about the book itself, but I’ll have a lot to say about how the book has changed my way of thinking about my life.

Next in line is Love & Respect by Emerson Eggerichs. I’m not really the target audience for the book, but I think I may learn something that may be helpful when/if I become the target audience someday. I’ve heard good things about it. I’m always a little skeptical of Christian self-help, but I will give it a chance.

Any other recommendations for good reads? I prefer non-fiction, but I am always looking for a good fiction to try. I will not read Twilight, sorry.

“Fun. Fun. Fun. Sun. Sun. Sun”.. Not just the theme song to the Milwaukee Boat Show.. It was the theme of our time in Longboat Key, FL.

Some of my best shots of the week. See previous post for explanation why the photos are beginner-esque.

A totally spoiled bird that spent the whole day sitting on balconies waiting to be fed. He got close enough for me to get all paparazzi with him.

When we went to the Sarasota Farmers Market our goal was to find one dog in a stroller. Mission Accomplished. We were pretty certain the whole festival was not for humans at all. There were 2 dogs for every human there.

We ate out a lot. Despite what the cup says, the name of this place is actually “Coconut Joe’s”

This is where we stayed. Can’t you imagine why it was hard to leave?

It was right on the Gulf of Mexico.

We bought obnoxiously bright Sarasota tee-shirts and loved every second of it

We had so much fun joking and laughing. This was a “sea shell” I found on the beach. It’s a salt shaker that I found on the shore. I thought it looked a lot like a crazy new shell no one has ever discovered before.

I had a blast! The week went by so quick, but it was filled with lots and lots of great memories. Sorry there aren’t more photos to share.

I have resolved to resurrect old passions this year. A few years ago I got really excited about photography and even bought myself a fancy camera. I was mediocre at best and didn’t experience the artistic release I had hoped to feel. I always felt frustrated and over-critical of my work. During 2009, two of my very talented friends embarked on a 365 project that they displayed on their flickr sites [Ashley] [Catie]. They have done some incredible work and I am insanely jealous of them. They’re still in love with photography and I am not. They are growing and flourishing in their relationship with photography every day. Me and my camera are distant and uncomfortable. I’ll take him with me sometimes, but most of the time I’m embarrassed to be seen with him. He frustrates me and I don’t feel worthy to be with him. It’s all very complicated and emotional.

I’ve decided to try to love photography again. I need to get past my insecurities and hesitations and just start shooting again. I don’t need to put it on display or try to become a part of the Flickr scene. I need to do it for me. I’m leaving for Florida soon and I hope to embark on my a new relationship with photography during the trip. Ya know, one last chance to make it work.

I have used my camera a little bit, though. The photo below is not “cool” or “artsy” whatsoever. I’m not proud of it and it’s certainly not my best. However, I am very proud of the person in the photo and I wanted to make sure I did my part to promote her cause.

My sister is trying to bring back the babushka. I think it’s a brilliant idea. Let’s get the word out about how cool the babushka is! Here she is posing as an old world immigrant visiting Chicago. Wearing a babushka, of course.

Since I live in Milwaukee, I listen to Milwaukee Public Radio. Today I was listening to an WUWM original program “Lake Effect” in which they were interviewing some lady who was attesting to the frugality of Milwaukeeans (sp?). The woman and the gentleman interviewing her met all of the NPR criteria I have come to notice and mock from time to time.

To be on NPR you MUST:

1) Speak in hushed tones. Absolutely NO undue inflection. If you’re on NPR, you’re on FM radio and people can hear you a lot clearer than on AM, so please be considerate of your listeners and try to tell your story as boringly and as inflection-less as possible as to not overly excite the listeners! Over excitement is for conservative talk show radio hosts and their listeners only! If you talk loudly, you are one step closer to being Rush Limbaugh. Listen very closely, everyone who ever takes to the waves of NPR all sound very similar. Every guest sounds just like the host. Even celebrities with their characteristic ways of speaking end up sounding like they’re a host on NPR by the end of the interview. Artie Lange, Russell Brand, Michael Cera, .. all fell victim to the hushed tones requirement of NPR and started talking way more philosophically and sophisticated than I’ve ever heard them before.

2) Use as many big words as you possibly can. For example, if an NPR host/guest were to say my previous sentence in an NPR sort of way they would say:

“Employ copious sums of expansive vocabulary at our behest”.

Sometimes I find myself repeating some of the things they say out loud in my car over and over again in disbelief! The host actually said: “It’s as if Milwaukeeans demand these bargains perpetuitously!” Seriously? Perpetuitously? Who is NPR trying to impress with their big words? Conservatives already think NPR is manned by a bunch of liberal “idiots” and “boneheads” and the people who like NPR are usually smart people that don’t need to be impressed with big words. NPR people already know that they are smarter than the rest.. do you really need to try so hard to prove it?

3) Find interest and significant value in pretty obvious and not actually interesting things. This is probably one of the biggest reasons I like NPR, but it’s also probably the most laughable thing about NPR. I mean, 15 minutes about how Milwaukee tends to have more frugal people in it than other cities in the US? What did we learn from that segment? I guess I learned I’m not alone in my frugality. I also learned that the guest has a LOT of extra time on her hands if she has time to study the spending patterns of Milwaukeeans and it’s not even her job! Does NPR seek the story first or the person with the hushed tone NPR voice first and tell them to try to make up something moderately interesting to talk about?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a fan of WUWM and most of NPR’s programming. I even try really hard to get into “A Prairie Home Companion”… even though it’s really difficult. I just have to make fun of it once and a while.

Whenever a celebrity has a new movie, book, or TV show coming out, they always seem to be involved in a scandal right before it’s released. It gets everyone talking about them and giving them free publicity for their venture. Every celebrity says it’s not intentional, but we all know that the timing is just too perfect for it not to be intentional (See: any scandal related to Kayne West). Without realizing it, I sort of created my own little scandal that coincided perfectly with the re-launch of my blog! I posted the following as my status on Facebook:

“Lindsay hopes this was her last time in the backseat of a squad car.”

I was really only posting that status to amuse my family, but it caught the attention of a few more people than I expected and now I will tell everyone what really happened. It is a story that certainly does not live up to its hype.

On my way to Caribou Coffee this evening, I decided to call my parents. By the time I arrived to the parking lot, our conversation had not ended and in order to be energy efficient, I turned off my ignition as we finished up. After I hung up the phone, I remembered I had my backpack in the trunk so I popped the lever, locked the door, got my backpack and started walking into the store. I knew almost immediately that my purse felt lighter than it should. I ran back to my car and pressed my face up to the passenger side window to see my keys still in the ignition. I literally yelled “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!” as loud as I could and ran inside the Caribou. I called my Dad to see if he had wired another key under my car like he did after I locked my keys in the car once before. He told me he didn’t know, so I ran back outside and laid flat on the concrete for 5 minutes looking under every square inch of my car for the hidden key. It wasn’t there..

I ran back inside the Caribou and the Barista had a wire hanger in her hand. “You could try this?”, she said. I thanked her and ran back outside and tried to MacGyver my way into my car. First, I had no idea what to do with the hanger or where in the window/door I should put it. Second, the plastic/rubber part that comes between the window and the door to “seal it” was frozen solid. I tried for another couple minutes and gave up. Defeated, I came running back into the store with the wire hanger and gave it to the Baristo (male barista?) who gave me the strangest look. I didn’t realize until later that it’s possible he never saw me take the wire hanger in the first place and handing him a random wire hanger would definitely be worthy of more than just a strange look.

(At this point you’re probably saying to yourself “Why didn’t she give someone a spare key or something? How irresponsible!”. Well, I gave a spare key to my roommate… who happened to have it on her keyring 300 miles away in Minnesota.)

Anyway.. My last idea was to call the police. Thanks to the iPhone, I found the non-emergency number for the police and pleaded with the dispatch lady for help. She said she’d send someone out and literally less than a minute later, a squad car pulled into the parking lot. I should mention that while I was waiting for the cop to come, I texted my parents to let them know the police were on the way. My mom’s text response was: “I hope he’s good looking”. Wow. My mom was not only thinking about the resolution to my key dilemma, she was also thinking about a possible resolution to my present dating dilemma. I had not considered this event to be an opportunity to pick up a guy, but she reminded me that it could be. I had forgotten I was single for a whole half hour during this crisis and then she brought me right back to reality.

Once the cop arrived, this was the following dialogue:

Cop: “Did you call?”
Me: “Yes, I locked my keys in the car!”
Cop: “It’s cold.”
[There's about a 15 second pause after he said this. I had no idea what to say. "Sorry"? "Yes, it is"? "You don't know what cold is until you've been laying on the concrete looking for a key under your car, buddy!"?]
Me: I’m so sorry! It was a stupid mistake! I’m a lot worse off than you, though.
(You might think that was a jerky response. He’s just there to help and I make it all about me, right? Yes, it was jerky, but all I was really thinking about was that my feet looked like this **see below** and I really felt like I was in a worse state of being)

That’s right. I wore flats without socks on one of the coldest days ever. After the several extended trips I had taken outside in said shoes, my feet were already frozen. All I kept thinking about were the frostbitten fingers and toes I have seen. Images of blackened, gangrinous toes kept flashing through my hypochondriacal brain.

Officer: Can I have your drivers license?
Me: Yah, hang on
[we then went through the standard getting to know you, making sure you don't have a warrant process]
Officer: I’m going to have to wear gloves, ya know?
Me: I’m so sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something after?
Officer: Nah, it’s okay..

The officer then proceeded to use what looked like a pediatric blood pressure cuff, an ice scraper and a five foot long neon green wire to get into my car. This was not an easy process. I stood there watching him and praying to Jesus for what felt like hours. Prayers for his success were alternated with prayers that frostbite would take longer than 15 minutes to set in on my poor toes. I had rejected his offer to sit in his squad car twice before I finally said I couldn’t stand the cold anymore and needed to sit in his car.

He told me, “You’ll have to sit in the back. The seat is really hard, sorry.”
I said, “Oh, I know… it’s okay.” He probably wondered how I knew what the backseat of a squad car was like. I figured it would be extraneous to explain that my sister and I have been watching a lot of “Women Police Officers of Broward County” lately and have seen our share of criminals getting thrown into the backseats of cop cars.

As I sat on the hard frozen seat, I watched the officer vigilantly through the metal bars spanning the length of the window. I couldn’t feel my toes, my feet, my ankles, my calves or my knees. My prayers for his success were now alternated with prayers that my inevitable admission for frostbite to the St. Mary’s Burn Unit (where I often work) would be short and infection free.

After what was probably the worst 15 minutes of the officer’s shift, he finally got the door open. Even though he couldn’t hear me, I started clapping. I started pawing at the door to get it open so I could congratulate him on his noble deed. I saw him laughing at me as he opened the door to let me out. I thanked the officer about a billion times and once again offered to buy him coffee. Not as a date, Mom… to thank him. He refused and sent me on my way. I rushed back into Caribou to tell the Baristas my story and to thaw my toes. I could tell by walking on those tootsies that they weren’t in good shape. Expecting a hero’s welcome from the staff of Caribou, I let out an exasperated sigh as I walked in the door. Unfortunately, only one guy on his laptop gave me maybe 0.2 seconds of eye contact. I sat down to update my family via text.

Me: Oh if I only had socks right now! [I said out-loud to an obviously uninterested crowd of people]

I debated whether or not I should walk 100 yards to Kohl’s to buy socks or just stay put. I absolutely despise Kohl’s (due to bad childhood memories) so my toes would literally have to be falling off before I decided to go in there. So, this was my remedy:

I decided it was far more worth it to look like a fool with mittens on my feet than to suffer the emotional turmoil I’d experience in Kohl’s.

My toes are fine. I have a few small blisters and they feel like they’ve been sunburned. The internet tells me this is “first degree frostbite”. My inner voice tells me it’s a sign I need to give another Milwaukee friend a spare key, just in case.

..And that’s why I hope I’m never in the back seat of a squad car ever again.