Passport under pressure

Viva la Mexico! Or at least I thought — until the moment I realized my Mexican family vacation was contingent on the locating my passport.

It was two weeks ago that my parents called me and asked if I’d be interested in joining the family for a tropical vacation. The obvious answer was yes, absolutely. Who would say no? After making sure I had enough vacation days and clearing the dates with my boss, I began helping my mom research resorts and vacation homes across the Mexico coasts.

I became obsessed with comparing resort reviews, jotting down tedious notes on all-inclusive options and dreaming about the day we’d land in Mexico and dive into the deep blue sea in 90 degree weather.

Then the harsh slap back to reality hit. I couldn’t find my passport. I looked everywhere. And I mean everywhere. If you recall from my previous blog, I have moved a lot in the last nine months. From dorms to off campus apartments to friends’ houses to my parents and my great-grandma’s, my belongings have been on a state-wide field trip of their own. I immediately began imagining the worst — it was gone forever, accidently thrown away, or ever worse yet — stolen!

I called my mom, attempting to not panic (although the fear in my voice was obvious) and she answered her cell excitedly, telling me first off that she just booked our Puerto Vallarta-bound flights.

Then I broke the news to her. My passport was nowhere to be found.

I spent the entire day Friday searching every crevice of my apartment, looking through my desk drawers, my little compartment organizers and even shuffling through the boxes of summer clothes I haven’t needed to unpack yet.

Tears practically fell down my cheeks as I imagined not being able to put those summer clothes to use at the end of this month if I didn’t locate this very important form of identification.

My family and friends were sympathetic, but not able to understand the frustration of losing something I knew I had specifically put in a very safe place. Now if I could only remember where exactly that safe place was …

Saturday quickly became a day for an emergency trip back to Winona to my parents’ house to scour the Rubbermaids and cardboard boxes stacked in my old bedroom closet.
As I leafed through every single piece of paper in those containers, each document other than my passport brought me one bit farther from the dream vacation that was slowly slipping from my fingertips.

Although I didn’t find my passport, I did find old love letters from when I was 13. My sister and I had quite a laugh reading through the profession of feelings from a boy named Michael. Ah puppy love, eh?

Among those love letters, old journals and academic achievement awards from high school was everything but my passport. I looked an additional two times through each box and eventually gave up in defeat.

I accepted the fact that my passport was not at the Peterson family household and made the 223-mile trek back to Worthington on Sunday.

I trudged into the office Sunday afternoon feeling melancholy and began preparing the paperwork needed to declare a passport stolen and expedite a new identification card.
Then I went home for dinner.

I committed myself to one last search through my entire apartment, adamant that I would not lose something so important.

And then the angels sang.
And I screamed …
… And jumped up and down many times.

I had finally found my passport! After a relentless 24-hour search for this stupid book that documented my previous travels and now allows me to visit Mexico once again, I finally found what I was looking for.

And boy was I happy.

I called my parents and upon their “hello” I began my screaming and jumping regime for a second time. They immediately translated through my elated joyful shouting that I had located my passport and they delighted in my happiness.

I hugged that stupid blue book and promised to never let it out of my sight again, even mulled over the idea of sleeping with my passport that night.

Now I just look forward to the vacation, knowing I will not be denied entrance into the foreign country and the exspanse of sandy beaches awaiting my family and I.
 

Posted by: Ashley on 3.06.2010 at 8:00 AM | Comments (2) | Permalink

Tags: beaches, fly, found, joy, lost, mexico, passport, sand, sun, travel, vacation, weather, worthington

From fashion forward to fashion faux pas

Most guys just don’t get it. Fashion. More than once my dad has looked at the outfit donned by one of my sisters or myself and asked what the heck we were wearing. My guy friends have made fun of my boots and leggings look and Aaron (the Daily Globe sports editor) is not fond of the hair “poof”.

The hated hair poof

In middle school, and even early high school, I was so concerned with what the boys thought of me, how I looked, what I was wearing and how I stacked up to the other girls.

Then I grew up.

I realized there is so much more to life than what you look like, the brand of your jeans or the way you style your hair.

That’s not to say I don’t swoon over my favorite pair of designer jeans or feel good about myself after an afternoon visit to my favorite salon back home.

While perusing the MSN website a few weeks ago, one of their “everyday style” topics was “10 Things Guys Just Don’t Get About Fashion." I laughed as I looked through the things that make men scratch their heads about women’s fashion.

From high waisted jeans to hippie headbands, I found some of the fashion forward choices to be cute and stylish — things I could definitely see myself wearing. Embellished bags and pantsuits were also on the list of fashion things that confuse the male gender, although I admit to owning a small army of handbags myself. What’s not to love about oversized handbags with shiny hardware and slimming two-piece pantsuits?

The stunning pantsuit

As for the harem pants and bodysuits, those are items that should never be worn out of the house … Let alone in public on the red carpet.

The awful harem pants

It’s amusing to me when fashion critics expect the celebrities to influence the way the average person dresses. Yes New York City and Hollywood socialites decide some of the hottest trends, but many of those trends deserve to stay in those settings.  Maybe the skin tight body suit and seven inch high heels look great on Victoria Beckham but I wouldn’t be caught dead in either item.
 

A swimsuit? Nope, a body suit.

I'm so glad I’ve grown up from the middle school days where I thought I had to have the Abercrombie sweatshirt and Tommy Hilfiger jeans in order to be accepted. I laugh at the thought of envisioning myself as so cool in those outfits.

Now as I reflect on how far I’ve come in being both comfortable and confident in my own grown-up skin, I relish in the fact that I don’t have to dress like the over-the-top celebs to feel that way.

If you want to see the link on fashion I reference in this blog, click here.

Posted by: Ashley on 3.01.2010 at 9:58 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink

Tags: clothes, fashion, girls, guys, heels, pants, runway, worthington

It's all in the family

Dad, Hannah, Summer, Me and Mom on my birthday

After graduating from college last May, I found myself living in a two bedroom apartment with a roommate who was about to get married and a lease that was almost up. Unable to afford the St. Paul abode on my own — and not wanting to sign a new lease in the cities in case of an out-of-town job offer — I began job searching online from various friends’ apartments.

I couch crashed for weeks on end, moving most of my stuff into one of my friend’s garage and at times commuting from my parents’ house in Winona to the cities in order to fulfill my various part time shifts I still had in St. Paul.

It was an extremely disorganized and hectic couple of weeks. Not to mention stressful. For someone like myself who finds comfort in being organized and having my days and weeks planned out far in advance, I found myself grasping at any concrete plans I could make, all while attempting to find a full time job in my field.

After a couple weeks of tirelessly commuting and sleepless nights on peoples’ floors and spare beds, I began to grow weary of my crazy schedule and was tired of not having a place of my own in the Twin Cities.

A few days later my grandpa called and I was telling him how busy I’ve been with all the random traveling around the area and mentioned my house-hopping in the cities all while hoping to find a job. He suggested I call his mother, my great-grandmother.

My great-grandma Katherine Peterson just celebrated her 94th birthday last week. If I didn’t know how old she was, I’d guess she was 70. She still lives by herself in the house she’s lived in for many years in a Minneapolis suburb. She hasn’t driven in years and relies on her friends and family (or her able legs) to get to where she needs to go.

I ended up staying with my great-grandmother on and off for a couple months last summer as I put in extra shifts at my part time jobs and applied for full time jobs around the state.

As an extraordinary woman who has lived a lifetime more than four times that of my own, I quickly learned more about my family history than I have in 22 years.

I confided in her about struggles in my daily life as well as relished with her when she told me about her latest Bingo or 500 winnings.

She keeps a busy schedule, with activities planned almost daily, and rounds out each busy week with a Friday shopping trip to Cub grocery and the occasional treat trip to Herberger’s in the mall.

This past weekend I went to Plymouth for the annual “Peterson Family Reunion.” Each February, the whole extended Peterson family gathers to catch up, enjoy delicious pot luck and celebrate the birthday of the woman who made the whole family possible.

On Saturday, as 37 Peterson family members sat in a circle in a hotel banquet room, it really struck me how amazing it was that each one of us had descended from my great-grandma and her late husband Kenneth.

How incredible to gather and celebrate 94 years of life and more than 40 family members in total with in-laws and children. As everyone took the opportunity to catch up on each little experience and big life changes, it was so wonderful to see the closeness of family and the gift of love encompassed in one gathering.

Happy 94th birthday former roommate and Great-Grandma Katherine!

Great Grandma's birthday celebration

Posted by: Ashley on 2.23.2010 at 9:09 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Tags: apartment, commuting, family, grandma, living, moving, reunion, traveling, worthington

Downhill diva

The title “Downhill diva” is probably a stretch, at best. I am so far from a Lindsey Vonn it’s not even funny. But in honor of the 2010 Winter Olympics nearing, I decided to hit the slopes Sunday at Mount Kato in Mankato with a friend.

After watching the 2010 Winter X Games a couple weeks ago, I was revved up and inspired by the daring acts of downhill alpine skiing as well as the ridiculous feats on the rails, jumps and halfpipes.

Not about to attempt anything too crazy, I steered away from the terrain park and most of the major jumps while skiing Sunday afternoon.

As the official opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics aired last night, I got excited in anticipation of the awesome athleticism we’re about to be treated to in Vancouver. For the next 16 days, athletes from around the world will compete for the greatest title - an Olympic gold medal.

I remember as a little girl watching the figure skaters compete in the Olympics and wishing I could wear the sparkly outfits and do twirls on the ice like the beautiful women on TV. I admired their beauty, grace, style and effortless maneuvering of the ice skates.

Now as I’ve gotten older, I’m more interested in the more daring sports - the crazy skiers, the snowboarders without fear and the bobsledders that max out at 90 miles an hour.
I stare in disbelief at my TV as shaggy-haired Shaun White defeats all odds while landing a McTwist – his signature trick on the half-pipe. I yearn to be half the skier aforementioned Lindsey Vonn is and I can’t even imagine squeezing into a bobsled.

I guess I’ll have to settle for being a mediocre (yet somewhat daring) downhill skier. I say mediocre because I’m sure my “technique” would disgust anyone with the slightest idea of what “professional skiing” even looks like. And I say daring because as soon as I gain a little confidence I attempt things on the slopes I probably shouldn’t.

My only real embarrassment came midway through the ski day after we had gone down every black diamond but one (it had yellow flags all over it and wound sharply through the woods and was labeled “expert only”). Since we clearly are not experts, we avoided that run, but enjoyed the rest of the black diamonds.

My favorite run was one that started off with either a friendly decline or a drastic steep dropoff depending on where you started. Once I hit the dropoff once, I knew I had to go back and try it again at the steepest point. The only thing I didn’t know was at the end of that dropoff was a jump and once I hit that jump I was caught off guard and totally biffed the landing. It was actually quite funny and since it didn’t hurt (other than my pride) I got back up and continued down the run.

Further down the run there was a part where you could go up on this ridge and either ride the edge long enough to shoot down the side or cut back onto the main run down a steep incline. The first time I hit the ridge I was going at a medium speed and surprisingly there were moguls on the ridge. The moguls kept increasing in size until the last one was huge and shot out the end of the ridge onto another jump and back onto the main part of the run.

Somehow I stayed on my feet (and my skis) and came out the end of the run feeling on top of the world. We took the lift up again and I wanted to hit the same run a second time- this time hoping to land the beginning drop and master the moguls.

The first drop went well; I gained a lot of speed and landed the jump (although I’m sure my arms were flailing in the air). I rounded the corner and saw the bumpy ridge nearing. I got up on the ridge, full speed ahead and nailed those moguls one right after another, still gaining speed. At this point I was probably so shocked and excited I was still in standing position I forgot about the giant steep downhill chute that ended in a jump and as I hit that at full speed I lost control of my skis.

I have no idea how the whole event unraveled, but I know I hit the ground. Hard. Snow was flying all around me and one of my skis flew off. I quickly realized snow was entering places I didn’t want it to go and my tightly tucked in shirt failed me and the small of my back that had quickly become a scratched up war zone.

Once the snow settled and I realized what was going on, I heard cheers, screams and shouts coming from the conveniently packed chair lift that was passing by directly over where the big tumble had occurred. Great. Teenage boys yelled out “That was awesome!” and some other kids said “Dude that was a girl!” and everyone was cheering and laughing and seemed pleased to have witnessed my humiliation.

But then I realized I wasn’t even embarrassed. I was totally pumped. I hit those moguls and jumps so fast and my friend who was waiting right below the chute saw the whole thing happen and said the fall looked pretty sweet and even commented that I had quite a bit of air before landing and losing control.

No wonder I was sore the next day. I had taken a hard fall off a pretty decent jump and it was rough on my body. Nevertheless I wouldn’t settle for not ending on a successful run down that trail so my friend and I boarded the chair lift once more and I made a final attempt where I am proud to say I hit each section of the run and landed both jumps.
As far as I’m concerned, I went home with the gold that day. Ok, not really. I just had a lot of fun skiing and spending time outside doing something I love to do.

Now as I still ice my knee and recall my great tumult, I’ll stick to my couch for the next week and leave the downhill skiing up to the pros at the big Games.
 

Posted by: Ashley on 2.12.2010 at 8:28 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink

Tags: olympics vacouver ski mankato minnesota worthington fun downhill

About to walk down the aisle

In just three short days I’ll be stepping into a white, floor-length gown, zipping up the back of the dress and maybe even placing a veil in my hair. My makeup will be just right, and I will have paid a little extra attention to my tresses. Most excitingly, the dress I’m donning will be a wedding dress, and I’ll be walking down an “aisle” in front of hundreds of people.

But I haven’t had to plan a single detail of this grand event. I didn’t pick out my dress, I haven’t chosen a single decoration and I haven’t the slightest idea what to expect for this special day. I have not invited any of my friends, and I’m pretty sure my parents don’t even know about my plans this Saturday.

No, I have not masterminded a secret Feb. 6, 2010 wedding — nor any wedding for that matter — and I am not about to say “I do.”

Instead, I am going to be showing bridal gowns for the Daily Globe’s 2010 Bridal Fair and Prom Extravaganza. When asked a couple weeks ago if I’d be interested in modeling for Saturday’s bridal fair I said sure. Sounded like fun to me!

Then I started to panic a little.

I mean, I am far from a model, I have no modeling experience whatsoever and I’m certain if anyone would be voted most likely to fall in front of a crowd it would be me. (Don’t ask about my high school most embarrassing moment that included falling in front of packed Winona State basketball game crowd).

I never thought the first time I put on the dreamy white dress would it be a gown that I did not choose, especially for a fashion show. But the more I think about it, the more it seems like a good practice run for that “some day.”

It will be fun to be the woman in white, in front of all those people. I’ll have to check my nerves at the door and remind myself it’s not my special day and nobody will even remember what I looked like in those gowns. I’m just going to embrace the whole experience and have a little fun dressing up with all the other ladies.

The Bridal Fair and Prom Extravaganza is not only an excuse for me to dress up, but also a great way to get involved in a community event with fellow Globe employees. And you certainly don’t have to twist my arm to convince me to doll up and parade around in beautiful gowns for the afternoon.

Speaking of beautiful gowns, yesterday in the newsroom some of the reporters and I started talking about our senior prom experience. Being the youngest in the room, my memories of senior prom aren’t too long ago. I recalled that brisk Saturday in May as one of my fondest senior year memories (unlike the aforementioned basketball game experience) — surely one I had looked forward to all of high school.

Some of the other reporters shared not so favorable memories of their prom nights. One of the ladies said she decorated friends’ rooms with toilet paper instead of going to the dance and another claimed her date was “in love with her” although unfortunately for him, she didn’t share those feelings of infatuation.

As almost five years have passed since my very own senior prom, it’s hard to believe I’m getting closer to an age where the “real deal dress day” is actually fathomable. As many of my closest friends have tied the knot in the past two years — I’ve now accumulated four bridesmaids dresses varying in length, fit and color — it hits close to home that I’m entering that next stage in life.

Although I’m nowhere near ready to plan my big day, or even begin dreaming about my wedding gown, I am looking forward to a tiny bit of wedding experience at this weekend’s bridal show.

With The Stag Clothiers providing the tuxes for the men, and the ladies wearing gowns courtesy of Interlude Bridal Shoppe in Sioux Falls, I can guarantee Saturday’s show will be filled with all the glitz and glamour one could ever want. Tickets for the Bridal Fair and Prom Extravaganza can be purchased at the Daily Globe as well as other local businesses.For more information, visit the bridal section website.

Posted by: Ashley on 2.02.2010 at 6:27 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink

Tags: aisle, bridal fair, daily globe, dress, gown, minnesota, model, prom, prom extravaganza, runway, show, tux, wedding, worthington