Another November has come and gone - far too quickly if you ask me – and I want to take a minute to reflect on all I'm thankful for. I tend to mistake life’s little luxuries as givens, but I know that I'm undeserving, and not everyone is afforded these same privileges.  I am grateful for a zillion things, but because there are 30 days in November, here is an abbreviated list (of 30 things) that make my life richer one way or another no matter how silly or serious...

1.  My lovelies who I could not survive without...Beebs, Melissassippi, Whitney, Natalie, and Holly
2. God's amazing grace because I need it more than anything
3. Starbucks and its ability to brighten just about any day
4. Dancing Donna who is the prettiest, funniest, smartest, and craziest mom a girl could ask for
5. And Mr. Pete Vander Meulen who is the most handsome, brilliant, hard-working, and young-at-heart dad a girl could ask for
6. Body Pillows
7. Sunday Funday
8. Having a steady job with full benefits, which include a sarcastic and caring group of co-workers
9. Heated seats in my car (AKA: bun warmers)
10. Jeopardy
11. The snooze button
12. Not being a Gonzaga fan or having hairy feet
13. Nicknames
14. The undefeated Green Bay Packers
15. My gym membership (yes, I said this out loud)
16. The rest of my family...all the Dutch people unite!
17. No snow on the ground for now and a garage to park in when it does
18. Living alone
19. The Baltimore Ravens
20. Never going hungry
21. Speaking of... my big thighs that help me play volleyball
22. Christmas time
23. Salvation
24. Chiquita bananas
25. Having a thick winter coat - literally and figuratively
26. America. We live in a great country.
27. FAT CAT!! Oh, how I love my Rory and her cuddles and sand-paper kisses
28. Friendships, new and old
29. VanderPeenra vernacular *criggles*
30. Boating in the summer. So really, having awesome friends who own boats

I am ashamed to say that I have lived in Washington my entire life, and until last weekend, had never been to the Gorge. I've probably driven by it 499 times and peed in the Columbia River right below at least 100 times if that counts for anything? Actually, that just makes it worse, so nevermind.

When I found out the Zac Brown Band was performing at the Gorge in September I squealed. And then in recently-implusive-Nicole fashion, bought two tickets thee second they went on sale. I didn't care who ended up with the second ticket and would have gone alone if I couldn't bribe any of my friends to join me. Turns out bribery wasn't necessary. When I was home in August I mentioned the concert to Mic and Melissa and begged and pleaded that they go with me... Melissa said no. Balls! But Mic wasn't cool with that. He called me as I was headed out of town--actually I was all alone at the single most stressful place on earth (the IKEA warehouse), sweating, and struggling to maneuver two carts of household goods to the checkout line. Terrible timing, but we came up with a terrific plan... long story short: Mic, the sweetest husband ever, surprised Melissa for her birthday with a ticket to ZBB (my extra one), and my apartment is now partially decorated. I am still accepting house warming gifts, by the way; wine will do. 

So. The Gorge. More breathtaking than I ever imagined. I'd hang out there even if there wasn't a concert going on. But the concert itself was phenomenal. I am always wary of live music because sometimes you find out the band belongs in a studio--and nowhere else. Zac Brown Band belongs at the Gorge. Their music reaches a new dimension in person, like they are singing or strumming straight into your country soul; the violin intro to Free even moved this girl to tears.

How can September already be half over?! The sun is disappearing entirely too early in the evening, Week 1 of the NFL is in the books (the Seahawks are still terrible), and I'm about to rehash my summer. What?! Life can slow down any second now--I'm ready. 

Now that I have that out of the way... you know how I always say my birthday should be a holiday, or at least be noted on the calendar like Rosh Hashanah or National Donut Day? Well, I kind of got my wish this year. Instead of parking my birthday girl butt in front of two monitors and daydreaming of key lime cupcakes like corporate America would have preferred, I spent the day with my beautiful friend Holly, preparing for her wedding the next day. Of course, the day was all about her, and rightly so; I'm going to have more birthdays than Methuselah while Holly gets one wedding. But throw in a mani/pedi, thoughtful gifts from the sweet bride-to-be and her in-laws, along with the actual consumption of key lime cupcakes (and Coors Light) at rehearsal dinner, and I still felt like the lucky birthday girl--that didn't have to go into work.



Now, I know that people always rave about how lovely their friend the bride looked on her wedding day and how great the ceremony was, yada, yada, yada. Most of the time that's true, but if we're honest, there are times when that is a flat out biased exaggeration. Shout out to all the ugly brides! So while I may be biased, I rarely say things just to be nice, and I am not exaggerating when I say Mrs. Holly Snell looked absolutely stunning on her wedding day--perfect hair, perfect face, perfect dress. And perfect shoes. I am so blessed to have Holly as my friend and so glad I was part of the big day.



I had to look at my calendar just now to remember what happened to me in August. Ahhhh, of course! Two trips to the best side. What else would you expect? There really is no place like home. My backyard view of the Pacific, my soft-mouthed yellow labs, best friends, family, Snow Goose Produce, and Lake Washington. The end. 







And then there was Labor Day. Melissa and I started dreaming up a camping trip earlier this spring. We might have waited until there was only one campsite left in the state with availabilities to actually book it...Alta Lake? Okay!...but we made it happen nonetheless. I'd never even heard of Alta Lake, and when the accountant at work recounted (pun intended) childhood nightmares of this awful place, I started having second thoughts. But it turned out great. Silly accountants. Alta Lake is clean and clear, surrounded by rugged mountains and a white, sandy beach. Wait...this is Washington, right? Yep. A white, sandy beach. We hiked, we swam, we sunbathed, we drank, and oh yes, we ate hot dogs and s'mores. And Eliza grew three inches..she is getting way too big! Ugh.







I can't imagine a better way to close-out my summer. Love those Chehades with my whole heart.

I may have been pouting a teeny, tiny bit on the days leading up to 4th of July weekend, but looking back at it--that was just flat out stupid. I tripped on my lower lip a few times because I was going to be out of town for work and jealous of all my friends that were spending their long weekend at the lake. That's what I wanted to do.

But. If you have to travel anywhere for Independence Day besides the lake, what better place than Washington D.C.? I will trade hours of Saturday shmoozing and sore feets for the Potomac River, 90 degree weather, and a Nationals baseball game any day. The accommodations were fit for royalty. I've not been in a nicer (U.S.) hotel than the Gaylord National...except maybe in Vegas, but those were all a little blurry so we can't be sure. The Gaylord is just outside D.C., boasting an 18-story atrium and sweeping views of the Potomac River.



Not that you'd ever need to leave the hotel, but we did. To claim our Diamond Club seats at Nationals Stadium. Great (padded) seats behind home plate, baseball pants, and unlimited footlongs, french fries, and summer ale on a hot July night. I'm not really sure that life gets any better than that. I mean, no one loves hot dogs more than this girl. A huge thanks to Sir Walter Bacon for your generosity.



The Nationals eked out the win, and we sprinted in giddy excitement to the 3rd base side for the post-game firework show. Music and explosions echoed through the stadium, and suddenly, forgotten, yet familiar words were spilling out of my mouth...I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride, but something touched me deep inside the day the music died. With more heart and more gusto than the 7th inning stretch, the entire crowd belted out American Pie as the fireworks dazzled and drizzled through the night sky. Singin' this'll be the day that I die.





After all my mumbling and grumbling, I still managed to get my lake time in at Murphy Bay on the 4th. The Murphy family is more beautiful than their slice of heaven on Pend Orielle, and I am grateful they include me in their celebration every year.





Happy 4th of July. I. Love. This. Country.

Christmas, Halloween, (my birthday), 4th of July, and Hoopfest are by far my favorite holidays--in that order. So when the last weekend of June arrives, it's like the kickoff to the better half of my year... that just so happens to get progressively better. I've always been a save-the-best-for-last kind of girl.

Now, I know that Hoopfest is not a holiday, technically. But it should be, especially if you live in Spokane. In a perfect world, communism would be successful, aaaand we'd get the Friday before Hoopfest off to prepare and the Monday after Hoopfest off to recover. And no, I didn't play, but I could still use a day to recoup.

I admit, I have a love-hate relationship with Hoopfest. I hate all the crowds, gunshots in Riverfront park, the Spokies that slither out of the woodwork along with their strollers built for octuplets, and Matt Frodo Bouldin in a tank top. And I hate that women's basketball is still considered a real sport. I love you, Holly. On the other hand, I absolutely love that I get to see friends from out of town, hang out with Whitney all day, and watch some seriously sexy men play competitive, no blood-no foul basketball while I devour a triple-scoop Ben & Jerry's ice cream cone. And besides opening gifts on Christmas morning that I wrapped myself the night before, Lindsay Murphy's Hoopfest Rooftop Party (and Ryan's magical puke-free spodie) could very well be the highlight of my year.

This year was the 4th Annual Rooftop Party, and so far I'm 4 for 4...which is expected when you're shooting from the charity stripe, but really pretty impressive from beyond the arc. I can't tell you how many people I've heard say that the Rooftop Party is the best party they've ever attended. I'd have to agree. It's all my favorite people in one place with a great view of downtown Spokane and the best way to avoid all the crazies and cover charges Hoopfest brings to town.





Lindsay Murphy, you are the hostess with the mostest. I love you. And Hoopfest. And your Hoopfest Party.

Hoopfest 2011 is in the books. 358 days till Hoopfest 2012. I promise I'm not counting.

When I met Nick Koller, Lind was a dirty word. And Ritzville called for soap in the mouth. Lind-Ritzville was our cross-state high school rival, and we lost to them more times than I'd like to admit. Maybe if I bucked hay as a three year old I'd be that good at sports, too. Still bitter. So when Nick raved about what a great time he had at the Lind Combine Derby every year, I had two thoughts. One: what on earth is a combine derby? Two: watch your mouth--I hate that place.

I'm not sure how Nick convinced me to visit Lind or how he got me to say "love" and "Lind" in the same sentence, but I love the Lind Combine Derby. And to answer the question, a combine derby, for all us city folk, is a demolition derby that features ginormous "tractors." But don't you dare call them tractors, because they're not. There's also a lot of beer, Copenhagen, dust, boots, and friendly, down to earth people. 

Lind might be the only place on earth that has a combine derby, but don't knock it till ya try it. It makes me want to be from a small town. Plus, if I were from Lind, I'd have a few state championships under my belt.




What do I love more than the Lind Combine Derby? Oh yes, that would be traveling for work. Last week I was in San Antonio for a trade show. I doubted my survival in the heat and humidity being a Western Washington girl and all...

But a little Frizz-Ease for the curls and air conditioning for the rest of me, and I was golden. San Antonio has more personality than most U.S. cities I've visited, and the energy on the riverwalk was infectious. Every night we had Thanksgiving Day-sized meals, including the fattest, tastiest coconut shrimp I've ever laid my paws on. I almost cried when I couldn't eat the last one. Delish! 








Let's just say I was expecting it to be bigger. That's what she said. This is Texas after all.