Andy Lien

I was metformin hydrochloride and weight loss shaking my head Saturday morning.  I was going to the Mall of America for the second time within 24 hours.  It was obscene.  It’s downright unheard of.  It was really happening.

Only some really special women could get me to do this.   No, I hold no ill will toward the MOA.  I like the MOA.  Heck, I like Saturday.  What I do not like is the MOA on a Saturday.  Twice in one Saturday was brutal.

I’d been to the MOA to see “New Moon” with my friend Tam and her twelve-year old daughter (my Goddaughter), Elizabeth, during the night.  It was a special coming-of-age evening that was capped off with a debriefing slumber party at my apartment in Minnetonka…as the mother and daughter live over an hour away in Hutchinson.  It started in a line at 9:30 and ended with a Zombie Walk to our vehicles at in the wee hours of the morning.

Funny.  That’s how my afternoon at the MOA began and ended…in a line and with a Zombie Walk.

Sort of.  To be accurate, the afternoon at the MOA began with a rash of panicky text messages.  You see, we were going to the MOA to see Ree Drummond, The Pioneer Woman.  When I say “we,” I mean my friend Joy from St. Paul and my friend Pamela from Dassel.  It was a fantastic combination.

Joy has been my friend since the college years.  Originally from Grand Rapids, Minnesota, she moved toward the urban life of Minneapolis at a young age and hasn’t left…well, now she’s in St. Paul and we like it that way.  She has a husband named Matt and an infant son named Vincent. She and her mother go mushroom hunting and make homemade pasta together.  Yorkshire Pudding is a traditional Christmas dish in their family.  Joy and I try new restaurants and recipes and often rope in our friends for some kick-butt dinner parties.  We both whip out our cameras at inopportune times.  I used to be in her blog’s “About Me” section as the Viking Goddess and Queen Drrty Martini as we used to run rampant and stupid together–often–in our younger, dumber years.  We understand each other.  She keeps a jar of bacon grease in the refrigerator to use when cooking.  Joy blogs about the food scene at Eating the Minneapple and is deliciously snarky.  Her distinct, percussive laugh makes me smile.

Pamela has known me in some subconscious way since I was three years old when my family moved to the rural area outside of Dassel, Minnesota.  We went to the same church, Gethsamane Lutheran Church, which she still attends and I still visit when home with my parents.  She’s four years older than me which mattered in primary and secondary school but means nothing now.  Her mother was my music teacher.  I know her siblings and I know some of her husband Eric’s siblings.  They both know my sibling.  It’s life in a small town.  It translates well to the internet.  The last time we saw each other, we were trying not to giggle as she was the Communion attendant and I was in line to receive Communion at one of the Christmas services last year.  We were trying not to giggle because, while our friendship has been primarily online (other than the Communion Incident), it’s been a funny friendship.  Whether over Facebook or my blog, we’ve had some pretty funny exchanges about food, home renovation, and Neti Pots.  Armed with each other’s phone numbers we were about to move our friendship offline.  Watch out, world.

That I would be sharing the Pioneer Woman experience with these two gals was perfect, really.  Someone from my rural life, someone from my urban life…who would’ve rounded it out would have been Joanna, if she could’ve made the trip from North Dakota, as she introduced me to the Pioneer Woman by way of her blog, Punkyseed.

I can only imagine the text message storm that might have happened if we’d thrown in an arrival from North Dakota.  As it was, Joy was going to the MOA from St. Paul (15 minutes), I was making the trip from the western suburb of Minnetonka (30 minutes), and Pamela was roaring over from Dassel (70 minutes).  The text storm started as a drizzle turned into a downpour quickly:

8:39AM – Joy to Andy: What time do you want to meet at the MoA?  I’m sure there will be a line and traffic over there is always nuts on the wknd.

9:14AM – Andy to Joy: 11:30?  Noon?

9:17AM – Joy to Andy: Either works for me.  Want to just say around that time?  Did it say outside of Nordstrom?

9:20AM – Andy to Joy: Yeah, Nordstrom at 1:00.  Have coffee, will stand in line.

9:22AM – Joy to Andy: I need only a stop at Gloria Jean’s (coffee) and possibly a Mini Bun (Cinnabon) and I’m a line standin’ fool, yo! (And she was.)

11:02AM – Andy to Pamela: I’m hoping to get there around 11:45. ( I split metformin hydrochloride 850 mg the difference between 11:30 and Noon…and, I dawdled.)

11:03AM – Pamela to Andy: I’m outside Delano.  I guess there is already a big line.

11:05AM – Andy to Pamela: Jerks.  Why couldn’t we live in Kansas with a short line? (Sorry, Kansas.)

11:18AM – Pamela to Andy: They are giving out wristbands…now they’re even bigger jerks. (She had an insider already at the MOA.)

11:19AM – Andy to Pamela: As if we might not get to meet her??? I’m running to the Jeep.

I almost ran.  First, I updated my Facebook status.  Then, I grabbed my The Pioneer Woman Cooks cookbook and green spatula to be signed.  The Jeep was a close third.  You can get me to the MOA, Ree, but you can’t make me run.

11:20AM – Pamela to Andy: This blows, man.  I’m going to have to break the law and speed.

She did what she could, but we both hit the same slowdown across the eight lanes of two-way traffic.  Have ambulance, will have gawker slowdown.  Sigh.

11:28AM – Joy to Andy: I’m here in line.  The mall cop has already pissed me off but I think it won’t take too long to get through once Ree starts.

We found out later that there was a crew filming the reality show “Mall Cops: Mall of America” at the same time as the book signing by Ree.  Great. We also found out later that our mall cop rocked hardcore.

11:30AM – Andy to Joy: Wow.  Really?  Did you get a wristband?  I’m at 494.

11:39AM – Joy to Andy: Yup.  I’m near the end of the first line.  Get your wrist thing and come to your little red haired friend.  I have cake.

11:40AM – Andy to Joy: Stuck in trffc. Bstrds.

11:44AM – Joy to Andy: Yeah.  The traffic over near here sucks.

To say it “sucks” put it mildly.  It was traffic at the MOA on a Saturday.  There were people directing clueless drivers who were trying not to hit mothers with baby strollers going to Ree’s book signing.  I’m not kidding.

11:48AM – Pamela called Andy: No niceties…no “how’ve you beens,” it was all about how the heck to get into the parking ramps at the Mall.  Traffic jams…bad driving…and even we used our better judgment and stopped texting.  I filled her in about the wristbands, lines, and Joy.  We agreed to get what we needed and meet in line.

After parking on the fifth floor, I tried to make a mental note of my Jeep’s location.  I’ve been known to resort to hitting the panic button or trunk release in order to find my vehicle in crowded parking areas before.  I waltzed into Nordstrom with my spatula and cookbook as my swork and shield.  My mission was clear and my feet were ready.  It was 11:48 and I was going to stand in line.

For a long time.

11:50AM – Andy to Joy: Walking into Nordstrom top floor.

11:55AM – Joy to Andy: Grab your wristband and aim for the end of Line One.

Line One?  How many lines are there?  Are there signs?  I saw a place to buy a cookbook.  I saw a place to get a wristband.  I saw a line coiling around and around.  I think an aerial shot would’ve been a snail shell configuration.  I saw many smiling faces.  I did not see my little red headed friend with cake.

11:57AM – Joy to Andy: Where’d you go?  Come back to the escalator.

You try finding “Line One” in a mob of people you’d rather not tick off.  The people waiting to meet Ree and get her autograph were just like Joy, Pamela, and me.  Some older, some younger…all clutching colorful, floral shields emblazoned with a photo of a woman with long auburn tresses and a green Le Creuset.  I stood for a moment at the end of a very long line.  That was when I realized I wasn’t by the escalator mentioned in Joy’s text.  But, I was at the end of The Line.  Hmm.  Quandary.  I walked a little and saw that Joy was at the end of a line that was much closer to the book-signing stage.  Ah, Line One.

It was hard to think offensively in this crowd of people just like me.  But, just as I’d shed my usual, lollygag-style of driving to get to the Mall, I could also shed my Minnesota-nice style of standing in line…and budge next to my friend.  Come on!  She had cake!  You would’ve done it, too!

As it turned out, she’d cleared it with the mall cop next to her that she’d have one friend joining her.  What we didn’t clear was that I’d have one friend joining me.  We are not nice people.  Without a “Hello!” or “How’ve you been?” we squeezed in the newly arrived Pamela right next to me…without batting an ethical eye.  I was thinking about it, though, the night before at “New Moon.”  What is fair in Lines and War?  If someone were disgruntled over being the victim of a budge, what would a fair trade-off be?  Letting them go ahead of both the budger and the budger’s buddy?  That’d tip the scales.  I digress.  Really, if anyone were so ticked off about a budge, I’d wave them through.  We all came to that conclusion at the end of Line One.  Then again, we didn’t have to follow-through with it because our mall cop was enforcing the end o’ the line for us…and when he couldn’t, Jessica did.

Joy had been in line since a little after 11:00.  She’s passed her time with Jessica, the other lucky last-in-liner for Line One.  Jessica was able to also wave in another person, her sister-in-law, Katie.  Jessica had a quick wit, gorgeous eyes, and an armload of four cookbooks to be signed.  Those cookbooks got pretty heavy close to five hours later.  I felt for her.

I introduced Pamela and Joy to each other and, as we all laughed at something, I noticed that Pamela has just as distinct of a laugh as Joy.  This was going to be a good time.  I was already amused.

At that point, we had no clue how long we’d be hanging out together.  And, after it was all over, I could never have told you that it was around four hours and twenty minutes that we spent in line…it was that much fun.  How does one pass the time?  I’m not sure what everyone else did…but I’ll tell you how we passed the time.

I started it off by eating a delicious piece of cake that Joy had made for a dinner party the night before.  When she handed it to me, I had a moment of deja vu.  I knew this cake.  I’d recently seen its yellow and brown marbling somewhere…but where?  I took a bite…it was the Nutella Poundcake that had been just featured in the latest store magazine REAL FOOD by Lunds and Byerly’s, our local high-end grocery store chains.  I’d fallen asleep reading that issue the night before “New Moon.”  I’d wanted to make the cake.  Joy did.  I will forever be grateful to her for that.

I also knew that I’d be spending some quality time trying to tutor Pamela in the ways of her new CrackBerry.  When I was laid off, I had to part ways with mine…it was rough.  I had to come to terms with not being able to upload a photo or update my status on Facebook whenever the spirit moved me.  I couldn’t Tweet at will.  I relished the thought of being able to vicariously relay the Pioneer Woman experience at the MOA through Pamela’s CrackBerry.  Once I figured it out.  Two hours and one cup of Caribou Coffee later, I had us up and running…keeping our Facebook friends and fans of Ree apprised of our progress.

I also made sure to whip out my iTouch and hack into some WiFi to update my Facebook account…

…and Tweet a bit.

I wish someone would've taken me up on the auction offer. Seriously, I'm unemployed. I could've used the cash and had plenty of time to spare.

Here's my "Ree Tweet." Get it? Ha. Retweet. I know. It didn't need explanation.

We took pictures of ourselves, our surroundings, and our objects of affection.

Pamela, Andy, Joy...with one of the blue balls. Yes, that joke was made.

A handler came around and wrote our names on the items we wanted Ree to autograph. Background: Our mall cop and Jessica...with her four cookbooks.

With Jessica and Katie...after Katie had made a Taco Bell run. Atta girl.

There's never a dull moment with Joy.

The object of our affection...on time and on stage.

What was between us and our object of affection. (By the way, the back of your head looks nice, Joy.)

Ree took the stage and did not disappoint.  Of what I could hear of her (the sound system probably wasn’t intended to make it past the blue balls and escalator), she was just as funny and entertaining in person as she is in writing.  She sang a little song, talked about sweaty palms, and let us know that the young cowboy on their ranch, Cowboy Josh, is not only single but is also dogsitting their Basset Hound, Charlie, during this leg of the book signing tour.  I felt the crowd swoon…much as it did upon seeing her husband, Marlboro Man, and their punks.

Marlboro Man and the youngest punks. So close, but nothing was going to make me leave my spot in line. Nothing. Except the aforementioned money.

The signing had begun, but there was still plenty of waiting to be done.  We lost Joy for a while who left for some nourishment.  I made Pamela listen to a song on my iPod…it was by Weezer and when I posted its title as my Facebook status update “Andy Lien:: ‘(If you’re wondering if I want you to) I want you to” Pamela took it to mean that I wanted her to send me a Neti Pot, so she did.  We lost Katie for a while to a bench.  We saw other people we knew from other areas of life, one of whom–Christy–I worked with at a private school.  She made a gift for Ree which I saw last night on Ree’s site.  Rah, Christy.

We wound our way to the middle of Line One.  Then, Ree disappeared.  The poor gal needed to exercise her right to a bathroom break.  She came back to a little applause.  We’re a crowd who fears neither bathroom breaks nor sweaty pits.  When we were finally in the line’s layer that was next to the stage, we overheard the mall cops telling one of the people who coordinated the event that there was a suspicious package by Orange Julius and we needed to move.

No way.  Not gonna happen.  This is what I said:

We’re also a crowd that doesn’t fear diaper bags.

We stayed the course and were on deck within minutes.  We checked our flashes and decided they should be used.  I checked my breath and it smelled of fermenting Twizzlers.  I popped in a piece of gum…I’m nothing, if not classy.

When it came time for our turns with Ree, we all found ourselves a bit tongue-tied.  What do you say to a person you feel like you’ve known for a couple of years but have never met?  After hours of build-up, we had only a minute or so with Ree.  And, you know what?  That made me happy.  It was perfect.  I visit with her for only a minute or two per day…it seemed only appropriate that we didn’t sit and linger for a heart-to-heart chat.  Plus, I still didn’t know what to say to her.

So, we chit-chatted.  She signed my book and my spatula.  We smiled at the camera.  She was all class.  And tall.  God bless her, she’s tall.

As we slowly walked away from the signing stage, we got our free t-shirts (very cool, Ree) and said goodbye to our close friends for four hours, Jessica and Katie.  Our legs were tired and I did the second Zombie Walk to my Jeep in a MOA parking lot within 24 hours.

When I got home, I went through my pictures and noticed this.

Like I said…I’m nothing, if not classy.

Thank you, P-Dub, for sharing your life and talent with us.  And, for giving us a reason to spend Saturday afternoon together at the MOA.  Later that evening, I received the following text from Pamela:

6:22PM – Pamela to Andy: My friend is still in line waiting.

If you may recall, her friend got there before we did.

Okay…I owe Joy for more than the piece of Nutella Cake.  I owe her for getting us into Line One.

And my karma may require a little recompense.