Hello again, ye olde city of wind

I recently visited my old stompin' grounds for a quick weekend visit. Considering it lasted less than 48 hours, I was able to pack in some fun.

I got into the city around 7 p.m. Friday, June 6, just enough time to slam a couple of cold ones with my lady friends and eat some french fries with curry dippin' sauce at Tuman's before heading off to see "Sex & the City." Awfully cliche, I know, but when I first moved to the city, we would gather at Lizzie and April's apartment to watch it -- I think I moved in time to see maybe one regular episode and the series finale.

After the movie, we eventually found ourselves meeting up with their man friends on Lizzie's back porch -- the site of many debaucherous nights.





The next day after some running around (including a quick consult with boob-master and good friend Lauren at Isabella Fine Lingerie) and a quick nap to get rid of my Miller Lite, humidity and lack-of-sleep headache, I was ready for the big event. The very first birthday of one of my boyfriends, Echo Alexander.

Yep. He's really that cute.

As you can see from his shirt, he was killin some watermelon that day. Little did we know, that was nothing.



Echo's ability to turn a lovely cake, decorated by his mom, Sally, into totally chaos in under 2.4 seconds was astounding. Somehow, we all lived to tell the tale.

Step 1. Sit down with baby.



Step 2. Sit back in awe.



Step 3. Rinse baby off in rain and hold on tight as he slips into a sugar coma.



After the birthday fun and dragging Sal's tired ass out the door, she, Jenn and I headed to the Metro to see one of my favorite bands of all time, The Smoking Popes. It was their CD release show -- the first CD they've released in many years. I saw them a few times before I moved, but I absolutely had to go to their CD release show since it was happening and I was there.



We were able to meet up with our good friend and former bar manager, Chris, who happened to go to high school with the Caterer brothers. While I was in the bathroom, Sal scored me a VIP pass, so I was able to watch the show from a vantage point where I could actually -- gasp -- see (the Metro is not good for seeing in general).

It was Chris' birthday weekend. He was very drunk and made us laugh.

All in all, I'd say the weekend was a success, other than the fact that as I was leaving Sally's house early the next morning I fell, ripping open my left knee, causing blood to gush down my leg, and leaving a long piece of skin hanging off my right knee. Instead of risking waking the baby and the dog going into a barking fit when I rang the doorbell, I choose to take my gimpy self to Starbucks for some coffee and napkins, as logic told me was really the only option I had.

At least this was one of the last things I saw before my knees (still recovering) met their demise...





...and I got to listen to my new CD all the way home.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

You all know I'm back to my former life as a reporter. It's been a relatively smooth transition. Working for a weekly has eased me back into the life-changing that is being a reporter.

But, working at a weekly also means fewer actual deadlines, fewer adrenaline rushes, etc. This week I fortunately happened to get a couple of fluff stories done before the proverbial poop hit the fan.

One of them is about a couple of high school kids who made their prom outfits out of duct tape and are in the top 10 of a national contest for doing so. If they place in the top three (they're fighting for third right now) then Haley and Keith each get some dough for college and Haley's high school gets some cash too.

You can check out the story HERE.

They're nice kids, so I've been voting for them daily. For every e-mail you register, you can do the same, so if you feel like it...

So, that was the first part of the week, when people call you back and you've got all the time in the world and have time to eat lunch and go to the bathroom.

Then the day before your deadline hits, the tides turn and the madness begins.

Thursday morning started easy enough. I had a few different stories I was waiting for a call back on but every confidence I would get everything finished by 3 p.m. Friday. Then the police chief calls to tell you they've solved a murder from 1979 and there will be a super-secret-announced-at-the-last-minute press conference announcing the arrest of two super cool guys who finally are getting what they deserve (in some people's opinions. I'm unbiased and objective of course...).

And then the same day, McCain announces he's opening a regional office in the city you cover. And then the U.S. Attorney announces 28 people have been arrested and are being charged with federal mortgage fraud charges and one of them is from your coverage area. And then a major automotive component company announces they're going to build a $27 million expansion in your coverage area instead of Tennessee because of a $2.5 million tax cut Granholm passed. And then you end your day going to a planning commission public hearing at 7 p.m. because the residents are up in arms about a proposed master plan, and about 4 dozen residents take their 5-minute turns, until they finally decide to adjourn the meeting to another date just after midnight.

So, that's when your week gets interesting. And your heart gets to pound for a change and your forearms grow weak.

HERE's the story on the murder if you care to read that one.

My new boyfriend.

It was about 5:30 a.m. on Feb. 21, 2006 when I got the call I had made my mom promise she would make the second she got the chance -- my sister and brother-in-law had welcomed Lucas Ambrose into the world. I was an aunt.

That has been more fun than I could have imagined, but still tough, considering I was 300 miles away for most of his first 2 years. I saw him for a couple of hours, maybe once every two months. When I first moved here, he would still call me "April" -- who is his babysitter.



But round two was a different story. I set off to cover a city council meeting Monday night, knowing Lucas' baby brother or sister could come any minute. When I emerged just before 10 p.m. I learned Anthony Richard had joined the brood at 8:27. Lucky for me, this time I wasn't 300 miles away, but closer to three.

On my way home, I stopped by the hospital and got to meet Anthony, who was only an hour and a half old. Although he seems so teeny, he's a big guy (especially if you ask my sister), with giant feet and long legs. It was so amazing to be there less than two hours after he was born.

While we have had a few laughs already interpreting his facial expressions, with Dan, in his best Brando, saying "It's not personal, it's business...just give me the nipple..." while viewing Anthony's first (of many) Aunt Kirsten photo shoots, we've been instructed his name is "Anthony" and not "Tony" (like my mom and grandpa) just like Lucas is just that (and not "Luke"). We're going to have fun with it anyway...

So, here are some shots of my new nephew. It's true what they say. You can love the second one just as much. I can only imagine what it will be like when I have my own.

Life is busy. Life is good.

I've not been doing the greatest keeping up with this blogging thing. What with all the babies to knit for and the school board meetings and the grocery store and dinner-cooking and the daily life things that seem to get in the way of things like blogging, reading and watching an entire movie at once.

We have done so many fun things lately that I can and should blog about.

Like go to the DIA with Grace and Alec, then hit up Northern Lights for some shuffleboard.






Or how about going to the Carolinas for Brooke and Jordan's wedding. We spent dozens of hours in the car (literally) over the course of 3 days and still went to sleep laughing at the end of it all. I'm pretty sure that's a good thing. Another good thing is the Nicaraguan coffee we got as wedding favors.






Or what about Claire's birthday party, where water balloons were the hit of the bash and lots of fun was had by all.






And let's not forget last weekend's carnival, where we met up with Colleen and Jon and their brood of four in downtown Birmingham. Rowan led the pack, while Jon and Iris fought for Claire's affections. Meanwhile Everil, the typical fourth child, chilled out in his stroller in an uber-laid-back fashion and occasionally hoisted on one of his parents' shoulders.







I can't post pictures yet of the super secret Father's Day project Claire and I made on Sunday...

So, there's the quickest recap ever of several weeks of fun. Dan's got more photos (and funnier captions) over on Wingstroke -- and always does so you should probably just go there first if you ever really want to know what we're up to.

Last night, history was made.

I've long prided myself on the ability to chastise others for crying during movies. Sure, I've teared up from time to time. But I've never straight up cried or come close to weeping.

Yesterday was a frustrating day for me. I went to finally pick up my car and they said there was a new problem, that they believe existed before the crash and AAA wouldn't cover it. I spent a day arguing and being frustrated, two things I don't like to do. Just days after Dan's car was totaled by a drunk driver, I just felt like the universe was against us and it wasn't fair.

I came home grumpy, exhausted, and generally spent. We returned our rental car, went to the post office and finally made it home, in my car that is still broken. I sat on the couch and stared at my computer for a while. Dan seemed to be all over the place. Finally I realized the shower had been running for a while. When I asked why, Dan said he was rinsing out Drano he'd poured in earlier. I thought this was weird, since we don't have a clog or Drano, but I was too tired to question.

A few minutes later, he had started the kettle, and asked me what kind of tea I would like, "Awwww, you made me tea?"

He got the tea and said, "Come with me."

He led me into the bathroom where he had run a bubble bath, my robe standing by for when I was finished.

He brought a table lamp into the bathroom so the lighting would be softer than the overhead light and brought in a radio, playing the CD of some French composer. He set the tea down next to the tub, fetched the giant In Style magazine he ganked from work for me and said to relax.

I was blown away by the sweetness, even if it was to benefit him in the long run by melting away my bad mood. :)

After the bath, he had to work, so eventually I settled in the bedroom to watch one of my knitting movies and work on a blanket I was hired to make weeks and weeks ago. "Knitting" movies are A) often movies Dan wouldn't want to watch, B) nothing you have to concentrate on too much and C) generally pretty cheesy.

On the menu last night was "P.S. I Love You" starring Hilary Swank, Gerard Butler, Lisa Kudrow, Harry Connick Jr., Kathy Bates, etc.

The premise is this: Holly is madly in love with her husband of 10 years, who she rushed to marry after meeting him on her study abroad trip in Ireland at 19. Ten years later, he dies of a brain tumor and she is crushed. But it turns out before he died, he arranged to have all kinds of letters and messages sent to her, arranges a trip for her to go to Ireland with her girlfriends, etc.

I won't share anymore details in case you feel like you need a good cry at some point (and a good laugh -- there were a few), but just know that I lost it. I don't know what percentage of it is simply being tired, and stress and having this sweet man do something amazing for me and what percentage of it was finally being in true love, to the point where I just can't imagine what I would do if he died.

So, I came out of the bedroom, crying.

"Do you want to witness history?" I asked, pointing to the tears streaming down my cheeks. I went on to explain, but I was trying so hard to choke back really losing it that I struggled. So, I tried to cover it with a laugh and made myself a cocktail as Dan looked on in a look that seemed to be part confusion, part amazement and part a look that was replacing him shaking his head.

So, I cried and kissed him and cried and kissed him. "I just don't know what I would do if you died." Every time I emerged from the bedroom, I had to swing by the couch for more of the same.

I guess it makes me realize I'm a really lucky girl, in many ways.

And they should put warning labels on those things: "Do not watch this movie if you are in a fragile emotional state and/or suffering from exhaustion. It will not be pretty."

Blasts from the past.

In recent weeks I have been lucky enough to reunite with some friends I haven't seen in years -- literally, unfortunately. First, Miss Brandi L. was in Royal Oak for a few days, a place she used to call home. Of course she had to fall in love and move to New York before I fell in love and moved back to Michigan.

Brandi and I met while studying abroad and for a short time did a pretty decent job of staying in touch. Eventually we lost touch, destined to be reunited thanks to Cara, with whom we both have remained in contact. Cara, Brandi and their girls headed out for a night of wine and desserts, and I dragged Dan along, not understanding it was for some relatively quiet wine-sipping at Vinotecca and not loud, crammed-into-a-dark-smoky-bar, drink guzzling. Duly noted.

Anyway, hopefully this will be the first of many reunions with Brandi.

The second visit came a couple of days later. My buddy Derek from high school was in Michigan for some family functions and had to spend a night in Detroit before jetting off to his orientation at Harvard. I snatched him up at his hotel and he joined us for some manicotti. Traditional Buyza fare he hasn't had it many years.



The last time I saw Derek was when he visited me just after I graduated from college and we went out for Mexican at El Azteco in Lansing. We determined this was likely 7 years ago, which is unbelievable to us, as we frequently e-mail, IM or talk on the phone. I'm just glad it's nearly impossible for him to be shipped off to Iraq for a third time, as he's just days away from officially bidding the Army adieu.

Before he left I asked Claire to take a picture of us. Though she claims she's going to be an artist and make clothes and be a ballerina and have a bakery, I think she should consider throwing photography onto the pile.

Just a few short days after DB's visit, the incomparable Erin Halfmann -- excuse me, Brainerd -- waddled into town for a family baby shower at her parents' new house in Howell. Saturday night we met at my sister's house and I got to capture both of my human incubators at one time.



We had fun the next day at her shower, where I was reunited with Collen (now) Price, who I haven't seen since before Erin moved to Maine seven years ago and she had just had her first baby. Now she's got four and one of them is in the form of a 3-year-old daughter, Iris. She and Claire became fast friends.



It was so wonderful to see Erin, who I still can't believe is about to have a little girl of her own despite the fact I've seen it for myself.



Now I must go try to make some sense of the old crap of mine my mom got sick of looking at so she gave it to me. Pictures from high school, pre-pubescent love notes. I fear the unpacking and throwing away in some form will never end.

BUT, something good did come from the transfer. SOMEONE was pretty pleased to inherit some tap shoes that are almost just her size.

Way to go, Tone.

She did it! Not only did my mom make it to 60, she made it to one year without smoking!

Though her birthday was May 1, the immediate family gathered at my sister's for a casual dinner Saturday to celebrate Toni Ann's accomplishments. I was in charge of desserts. Learning my brother-in-law is a Key lime fan, I made a Key lime cheesecake. Although 60 is a milestone indeed, I decided we couldn't let the night pass without recognizing with a bit of fanfare that Tone has made it more than 365 days without a smoke. I'm so proud of her, so I thought a cigarette cake was appropriate.




I'm sure everyone is dying to know, so I'll share that I took a regular ol' box of Betty Crocker (she really knows her stuff) funfetti cake and made it in a 9x13 pan, then cut out the size I wanted (the entire length and about 2/3 of the width).

The filter frosting started with a white base with a lot of yellow, a little red and a single drop of green food coloring. The lit end of the cigarette was red frosting with crushed Oreos playing the part of the ashes.

The Key lime cheesecake seemed to go over pretty well, too. The six of us devoured it in about 2.4 seconds flat.




It's a really simple recipe and I should post it sometime over on I Eat Veg (clearly it's not vegan).

Anyway, the cheesecake turned out well and my mom was happy with the new Kitchen•Aid hand mixer we got her for her birthday.

Before Sarah went to bed, she and I compared her eight-months-pregnant body to my cheesecake-filled body.




It was a close one, but she wins!





Sarah and Loren haven't slept in days because Lucas is super sick, so Joe, Mom, Dan and I headed down to the basement for a little Cranium. Her first time up at Cranium bat, Tone knocked it out of the park. She can draw with her eyes closed, make a killer clay sleeping bag and impersonate Michael Jackson like you wouldn't believe (though I admittedly hope to never see that again).

Johnson and Buys talked a good game, but the Buys-Buys ladies team proved unbeatable. If it hadn't been for chimpanzees and Winston Churchill's damn American mother, it could have been a clean sweep.