North Kansas City – I35 & Vernon

I lived in Kansas City for a long time – not all my life – but I will always consider Kansas City one of my homes. It has only been recently that my, what you might call love affair, with KC has begun. I’ve never thought Kansas City to be anything special – “in the middle of no-where” seemed to sum up how I felt about it most of the time. And I’ve lived in other cities where I felt something different – where I can instantly think about a park, restaurant, or sidewalk that bring back a flood of memories. But this has rarely been the cases in Kansas City  - my memories have always revolved around people.

But something has changed – maybe I’ve had one too many Boulevard wheat beers but I am becoming attached. I remember reading a memoir of woman that had this deep connection with her city – she felt apart of it, almost like it belonged to her and became jealous when others discovered its secrets. Sounds a tad bit crazy, huh? But I find this happening to myself – discovering little secrets about Kansas City and it gives me a little thrill inside. Now let’s be clear – if you were to give me a plane ticket to move somewhere with mountains or the ocean and public transportation – I would be packed by tomorrow. But today, tomorrow and the next day I am living in the land of Oz.

I have made a commitment to myself – I will pursue this love affair. I will have to be intentional and it will take extra effort but it’s worth it, right? It will be an adventure, like most love affairs are (of course, not coming from experience ), it will be filled with disappointed and unexpected twists and turns. Ohh…I am becoming giddy…

Andreas and I signing our marriage license three ( did I just type three years…??) years ago today.

The goofy looking guy next to me is the judge that married us.  He was such a nut!  But a good nut. He kept laughing which made me even more nervous, his house was painted mint green, and we were surrounded by thousands of little cherub figurines while he performed the ceremony.  I guess we could have been married in front of the court house, not sure why we didn’t (who doesn’t want to be able to say we got married in front of the courthouse??) It was such a sereal day – my dad had flown in from Geneva for the occasion, we went to the judges house and got hitched, and then went to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner.  We call this wedding number one – the summer of 2006 included three wedding: legal wedding, Norway wedding, and Kansas City. If you were to ask Andreas or I when we technically felt married, it was after the Norway wedding. The legal marriage was for the darn (choice word here) INS and so he wouldn’t have to return to Norway.  No flowers, cards, or romantic getaways planned for today. Last year we went a grabbed a piece of cheesecake – I think that might be the perfect way to celebrate from here on out – with cheesecake.  Looking back getting legally married was one of the best decision we made.  Even though: we had just become engaged the week prior (didn’t I mention that?) or the fact that I had yet to meet his parents (forgot to add that little tid bit as well). But all is well and we have hit the half way mark to five years….crazy!!

Suddenly, my house has found itself with a few more treasures lately – actually not suddenly at all.  A while ago my mom and I hit up the best antique in Kansas City – Rivermarket Antiques. Oh the goodies one can find in that place.  I carried a basket with me the entire time, because the one of the joy of thrifting is price – $3.25 for a glass milk bottle from Vermont? Basket. $1 for an white and blue enamel container? Basket (what a steal!). $45 for a Danish sugar, flour, and coffee canister set? No basket (but I am still dreaming about that canister set).

I would not consider myself a seasoned thrifter yet – but it’s in my blood.  My mom and grandma are/were huge thrifter – I remember being dragged to several antique stores, Friday night auctions, and early morning garage sales – row after row of stuff crammed into itty bitty tiny spaces. Somehow between all the hotdogs/peanuts/sodas bribing and hearing “East Germany – ouhh that is good.  Hermes…vintage…ouhhh that is even better”, I’ve caught the bug – the thrifting bug.

Another reason my house seems to be a little fuller is because we just helped my mom move from the house that she is lived in for 15 years. Now, my mom definitely has an eye for anything in need of a home – oh the stores I can tell – boxes and boxes of green easter egg, two brozne statues name Sue and the other (naming rights, Amanda and myself), hoardes of trash ties, beautiful Italian marble tile, the list goes on and on. Our house was known to have a perpetual summer garage sale where deals could be found and made. So combine all my mom’s treasure along with my grandparents – remember my grandma was a thrifter as well and my grandpa loved loved loved paper and to make copies – we had our work cut out for us. Somehow we dwindled my mom’s earthly processions down to 6o boxes – an amazing feat, oh and I am just a damn good purger and packer.   All this to say, my payment was in the form of vintage croquette sets, a wooden train, beautiful children’s book, a Snow White lamp and much more.

Throughout the week, I noticed the concern in Andreas’ eye as I would come home with more stuff.  My three reaffirming points: 1. I am not a hoarder but a purger in nature 2. Utility is important – if I can’t use it, lose it 3. Our apartment is only 900 sq ft. All is well, and everything has found a new home.