I had my alarm clock set for a Sunday morning.  I can’t remember the last time I set my alarm clock to wake me on a Sunday morning!  These are rare moments, that day of the week held sacred by soft pillows, body heat infused blankets, and only leaving the comfy confines when the body is fully ready to approach the day.  My alarm went off and it was okay, actually it was more than okay.  I was on my way to my first Packer game.  It’s about time right.

 Armed in layers of any color other than navy and orange,  dangerous with some gas station java and a disappointing breakfast sandwich (acquired only because I was running late trying to put together my warm, not get my ass kicked outfit because I actually own a lot of orange), my co-worker and I hit Hwy 29 east to Green Bay to see the pack attempt to annihilate the Bears.

Considering that this was somewhat a business related outing, better behavior was encouraged.  Upon arriving to the madness that is tailgating I wished I could be joining in on the debauchery but in a way I am glad that I couldn’t be slamming beers before noon because I was able to take in much more.  The elaborate outfits, the various ways of teasing the other team, and the history that is Titletown.

We did end up having a beer before noon but it was at our seats.  We were seated about half-way deep in the bowl in the section above the Packer’s tunnel.  It is absolutely true when people say that there isn’t a bad seat in Lambeau, and the skybox people, you can have them.  I was thrilled to be in the stands and I don’t think I would ever want to view another game there in any other way.

I must admit though, that it was not until recently in my life that I gave two beans about football and then it is only the Packers.  I used to be quite a non-football fan actually.  When I told my brother I was going to a Packer game, he pretty much laughed and said “You going to a football game is like me going to a Celine Dion concert.”  The comparison was funny, however I am not a Celine Dion fan.  I then proceeded to remind him that he did attend a Deborah (Debbie) Gibson show in Mpls. but it was out of novelty.  I don’t know whom the joke ended up on.

Of course the crowed was energized, good natured and fun loving.  Even the twenty-something male Bears fans sitting next to us were being snarky in a good-humored way.   The roar of the crowd when the team came out of the tunnel, the start of the game, the commercial breaks, the desperate need for a hot cocoa and a slice of pizza 3rd quarter,  and the touchdowns!  The Pack kicked Chicago’s windy city booty.  I could not have asked for a better game to attend and my ex-wannabe hipster ass was quite elated.  The game seemed to go so much faster when actually there.  It was certainly an unforgettable experience and I have many pictures and a foam noodle to remind me.  In the meantime I hope my brother has a nice time at a Celine Dion concert, maybe he will get tickets for Christmas!

Upon leaving Lambeau Field, I did have this sentimental feeling of having some sort of connection  with Wisconsin.  I don’t think it was so much of pride as it was more as if I officially became a citizen of a state which I lived in my entire life, actually,  I think that was just me being frozen at the home of Frozen Tundra.  Go Pack Go! The Bears Still Suck!

I have reconnected with my natural art, the one thing I may not know, but understand and feel on levels  I can hardly dare to write about because writing has been my far second interest to dance, the art of movement.

I was fortunate as a kid to have the biggest bedroom in the house which meant that there was a lot of room to dance  around to various 80’s pop hits.  I was getting crazy to Katrina and the Waves, Whitney Houston,  “Freeway of Love” by Aretha Franklin among so many others.  I remember cranking my tiny pink boombox to the Dirty Dancing and Cocktail soundtracks whenever I knew my parents wouldn’t notice and I would let loose in my own private bedroom dance studio.  I was an early, early fan of Michael Jackson and the subsequent videos from the Thriller and Bad albums.  I can only imagine now how silly I must have looked  bopping around in florescent colored sweaters and frizzy permed hair (thanks mom), but I am guessing that the silliness changed upon the release of Janet Jackson’s, Rhythm Nation, 1814 album.  That album, I think I could safely say, changed the course of my life, but I didn’t realize it because I was only 10. 

Of course, being the MTV age, I remember the video for the title track.  Janet and her back up dancers doing the most stellar moves I had ever laid my eyes upon.  I was captivated as they danced in robotic unison (without doing “the robot”)  in the black and white industrial setting.  I wanted to be a Janet Jackson’s back up dancer.  Much to my dismay, they were not looking for any 10 year old girls with frizzy permed hair and a collection of slap bracelets.

Without going into the deepest depths of my history of dance, I will keep the past short and sweet.  I took a couple years of tap dance lessons at the expense of my grandmother.  That was very sweet because it was not an expense my parents could either afford or justify.  I choreographed a dance for my 6th grade talent show.  It was a Bette Midler song.  I did not get picked to perform which may have been a blessing from my teachers because I would have probably been severely teased as soon as “Ms. Otis Regrets” blasted through the sound system.   I was the weird girl at school dances that could do all the most popular dance moves of the time which was not really cool in the early 90’s in Central Wisconsin, then ushered in the rock and grunge years where I bobbed my head and hair around more than danced, but I was still moving.  After that came the rave years which was like beacon light of happy thoughts and danceable beats  through the fog of distortion, musical angst and depression.  I remember when techno music actually infused itself within my muscles and bones.  Old friends witnessed it, and suddenly I just danced a style like I had never seen.  I just did it and kept doing it and entertaining fellow party goers occasionally until the scene became unhealthy and I grew out of it.

I grew out of something but into nothing.  That is the last 4 years I am currently trying to rewind;  an idleness and lackluster that crept into me and festered. 

So a while ago I was contacted by someone on Myspace who was looking for a dance partner in the line of ballroom dancing.  It sounded fun however I was exploring other avenues at the time.  I showed and interest and then brushed it off.  I was recently contacted again and decided to jump on the soul train and even though I have a lot to learn, this big part of my existence has been illuminated.  It is human nature to enjoy most the things one is good at or be good at the things that one enjoys the most.  I have not been so excited for something in a long time.  I am notorious for trying new hobbies and then losing interest quickly or perhaps it is just quickly realizing something is just not for me.

Four or more years of feeling undefined, or in the blog world, “uncategorized.”  I wasn’t a mother, or a student, a triathlete,  or a nurse, an activist or a wife.  As much as I rallied against labels as a cusp Gen-X teenager, I was suddenly searching for them in adulthood as I increasingly became disassociated with my peers.  I tried to find things, little things to define myself.  Little things I could share with others that would give them a window into my true self as opposed to the ones that they had to assume because I had so little tangible traits to share.  Here are some of these things:

• I open cupboard doors and drawers and then neglect to shut them.
• I will watch a movie and read a book and forget what they are about within a week.
• When I am spending time outdoors, walking/hiking/geocaching, I prefer to be alone but I don’t mind sharing that time with others.
• I continue to dislike Swiss cheese.  I try it about once a year.
• Tubing is about the only winter hobby I can do besides slipping and falling on my bum.
• My internal clock is frighteningly accurate.
• ….which naturally makes me anal about punctuality.
• Drawing the curtains at night brings me great joy and satisfaction, like I am saying goodnight to the world and it is respecting my privacy.
• I have 2 sets of demitasse cups and saucers but no espresso maker.
• I did not read all the books on my bookshelf, but I meant to.
• I love doing laundry but hate putting it away.
• I miss having a close guy friend or occasionally being “one of the guys.”
• I have no idea where all these health and beauty aides came from.  Hair products, facial cleansers etc.
• Night Owl.
• I have a fear of getting physically lost but have grown quite comfortable being lost within.
• I fantasize about being able to play a violin naturally, as if I was born knowing.  That would be my super power.
• Who else had to eat buckwheat pancakes as a kid?
• I was once compared to Annie Hall.  That seemed fitting.  Currently applicable?… unknown.
• My first childhood heartthrob was John Cusack in “The Journey of Natty Gann” 
• I love baths but I can’t stay in them for very long.
• Some “things” I wanted to be growing up:  Back-up dancer or dancer of any professional sort besides stripping, FBI Agent, Journalist or Writer of some sort, Frontier Woman.

So now I begin learning the Waltz, Foxtrot, Samba, Tango, Swing, Cha Cha, among many others.  I don’t expect any of this to come easy, but so far it has come a bit naturally.  Suddenly something feels aligned.  This is so cool.

By no means have I ever been a bona fide health nut, but I was never a big junk food eater when I lived alone.  I never purchased potato chips and very infrequently would buy soda.  Even then, it was a two liter bottle that was flat within 2 days.  Since I have lived with this very kind and generous person I have “discovered” the Doritos on a number of occasions and had a chomp fest.  Soda, still not a dietary staple in my refrigerator, has crept around for me to have more often than normal.  I am surrounded by Peanut M&M’s and other chocolate baubles that I really don’t even enjoy that much.  I would rather spend a little more on my favorite imported chocolate treat (Hanuta cookies from Germany are my favorite) and savor every scrumptious bite than pig out on handful after handful of M&M’s, or enjoy a glass of wine over a can of Diet Dew.  One night my brain clicked into desperate snack mode, I don’t know if it was stress or hormones but I ate almost an entire bag of crunchy Cheetos while staring at the television.  I washed the orange mark of shame from my  right hand and felt  disgustingly ill the next day.

As for the junk food, it is something I will easily get over.  It won’t be in my cupboards, it won’t be in my stomach.  It is funny because, almost instinctively, I don’t go down that aisle in the grocery store.  The one change I question the most is cable TV.  I believe that only once in my adult life have I had cable TV in an apartment and it was only because it was included.  I was sublimely oblivious to TV that it felt good to not be in the “Dancing with the Stars” conversation in the office.  I knew to turn the TV on in time for Antiques Roadshow and Grey’s Anatomy.  It was only this past year I discovered the joy of DVR and OnDemand.  And I know that this will sound terribly cliché, but the stations I favored most was A&E, Discovery, and History.  Even if I wasn’t watching, it filled the quiet loneliness of the house.  I will miss the next season of The Tudors and Big Love!  I will not be able to watch reruns of Beverly Hills 90210 when I am bundled under blankets, sick on the couch!!  When I want to be mad about something, I can’t turn on MTV for 5 seconds anymore for instant disgust and anger!!!   I will never again have a TV date with Guy Fieri from “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” again!!!!  Whatever shall I do!!!!

Mostly I can’t justify the expense of cable or satellite television.  You could heat a home for a month for what they charge.  I am going to pick warmth over Mythbusters, even though I enjoy Mythbusters , I am a crabby pants when I am cold.  Instead I will enjoy movies directly from my friends at Netflix where there is a dazzling array of documentaries, dramas, classics, foreign, indie, and chick flicks to enjoy while rekindling the joy of my peaceful, self-reflecting hobby of cross stitch.  Oh, and a book with hot cocoa!   This will be a fantastic winter without Cheetos and a huge Charter bill!

Someday I will graduate to downtown Chicago. Remember that tear-jerker commercial that was broadcast during the Olympics of the runner who finished the race, dead last limping, with the help of his dad? That will be me, rush hour traffic, downtown Chicago, me and my Garmin. It might just be legendary.

Another reason had my thoughts set on a GPS was the exciting world of Geocaching. I had heard about it on TV years back but didn’t quite understand the concept. Soon GPSr’s became more common place and it made sense. Geocaching is basically a game or hobby where people hide containers in public places and post the latitude and longitudinal coordinates on the website www.geocaching.com. Containers range from micros, not much larger than a capsule, to 5+ gallon pails. All containers usually have a log book, and depending on the size, various trinkets of little value to be traded. The basic rule is that if you take something, you leave something. Caches are placed and maintained by fellow cachers. Occasionally geocachers arrange meet and greets in town, the location is of course, posted in coordinates! If you want to know more about the game, please go to the geocaching.com website. It is very informative and make it easy to understand.

The best part of my first summer of geocaching was discovering all the great parks Wausau, Schofield, Rothschild, Mosinee, and Merrill have to offer. I have lived here nearly my entire life and I was clueless to many of parks, walking trails, fishing holes and nature reserves that are accessible to the public. I found my first geocache is Gaska park which is located in the Weston area, a park I had never heard of. Gaska park has a great some great walking/biking paths and is a peaceful escape.

My favorite quote of the summer would have to be one I saw on a ‘calling card’ in a local cache, “I use an 80 billion dollar satellite system to find tupperware in the woods.”

Let’s get together and talk about the modern age.
All of our friends were gathered there with their pets
just talking shit about how we’re all so upset about the disappearing ground.
As we watch it melt….

It’s all of the good that won’t come out of us
and how eventually our hands will just turn to dust,
if we keep shaking them.
Standing here on this frozen lake.

I do this thing where I think I’m real sick
but I won’t go to the doctor to find out about it
Cause they make you stay real still in a real small space
As they chart up your insides and put them on display.
They’d see all of it, all of me, all of it.

All the good that won’t come out of me
and all the stupid lies I hide behind.
It’s such a big mistake
lying here in your warm embrace.

Oh, you’re almost home.
I’ve been waiting for you to come in.
Dancing around in your old suits going crazy in your room again.
I think I’ll go out an embarrass myself by getting drunk and falling down in
the street.
You say I choose sadness
that it never once has chosen me.
Maybe you’re right…

Let’s talk about all of our friends who lost the war
And all of the novels that had yet to be written about them.

It’s all the good that won’t come out of them
and all the stupid lies they hide behind.
It’s such a big mistake
Standing here on this frozen lake.

It’s all of the good that won’t come out of me
And how eventually my mouth will just turn to dust
If I don’t tell you quick.
Standing here on this frozen lake.

~End~
I didn’t quite know how to begin blogging here at Citizen Wausau. After being pestered by Dino and after meeting Cheryl and Billie (who are, by the way, so fun, interesting and sweet) at the Fillmore, I thought there must be some great people here and maybe I should get involved. I recently realized that I don’t know too many people anymore, or at least people with whom I share some common ground. After about 4 years of unintentional self-isolation, or more appropriately, trying to build a life I always pictured for myself and not being successful, it is time to try again at the life I do know.

I was informed over a year ago by one of my dearest friends David that I would be approaching some major changes in my life. He has been studying astrology for over 10 years, so as any good friend would do, he informed me of my looming “Saturn Return.” This magical time in one’s life around 28-32 where Saturn has arrives in the same sign that it was in when you were born. Apparently Saturn represents monumental change in one’s life and if one is not prepared for their “Saturn Return,” it can be a very tumultuous and confusing time.

I was never prepared.

If I believe in it at all or not makes little difference.

I do, occasionally, have things to say. This forum will certainly be inspiring and will force me to be a more articulate as well as conscientious. This is why I began my first Citizen Wausau blog entry with the wonderful little Rilo Kiley ditty; I will let the lyrics do the talking just a little before “my mouth will just turn to dust.”