Kristi's Korner

Bike Commute

Back in my college days, I always got a thrill from riding my bike to lectures. I was a speed demon on my blue five-speed, weaving in and out of the walkers, roller-bladers and fellow bikers. Riding a bike was the quickest, most efficient way to get to class---if you had the guts to do it.

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Sen. Tom George on health care

Our community's "safety net"

What's shaking downtown

More places to see and be seen

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Kristi's Korner

Road Trip!

Last week I drove to Atlanta with two college girlfriends to visit my very best childhood friend. As we turned a bend on I-75 in northern Georgia, the skyline came into view—every building revealed a unique silhouette. So this is Atlanta; this is why my friend left Kalamazoo and pursued a new career. My two girlfriends let out a shriek of excitement.

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Kristi's Korner

Is There a "Healthy" Way To Meet Someone?

Imagine the smoldering scene: there he sat in a plume of smoke. His dark, handsome features soften with every sip of whiskey. He’s unwinding after a long day at the office. Perhaps he’s waiting for someone. Enter the single, twenty-something stuck in Kalamazoo. She let her hair down and skipped lunch to fit into her designer jeans. All ten of her toes are wedged into a pair of pointed, 4” stilettos. She orders a martini and something deep-fried with a side of ranch dressing.

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Kristi's Korner

Don't Talk To Strangers

Growing up, my mom told her four children never to talk to strangers. This is easy enough when you’re seven years old: if a creepy guy in a big van with no windows offers you candy or asks for directions, simply run the other way. But somewhere between training wheels and drivers training, interacting with strangers becomes part of everyday life. It’s how learning happens; how business works...even how love evolves.

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Kristi's Korner

Happy Mother's Day

With Mother’s Day around the corner, I wanted to share a few things about the friend and role model I have in my mother.
I think of Marcia as the antique. Every year she gets more and more beautiful. I envision her a bride at 18: a child draped in white lace, advancing down the aisle towards young love. This was the path to the family that would be her self-proclaimed greatest joy and purpose in life.

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Kristi's Korner

You Can Have Your Cake...

I tightened my lips in frustration as I smoothed the bright white icing around the cake for the thirtieth time. How could two layers of moist cake, bound by a sweet fruit filling, look like something I pulled of out my plastic Easy-Bake Oven in the 1980’s? After my first day of cake-decorating class, I brought home an edible tribute to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. My face still contorts when I think about it.

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Kristi's Korner

You're My Hero!

A fireman may fearlessly enter a burning building to retrieve the family pet. Meanwhile, a lifeguard may brave unfriendly waters to rescue a swimmer from the grips of a rip current. I’m positive that on a universal scale, both individuals would be considered quite brave. We would celebrate them as heroes.

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Kristi's Korner

Shhh... Don't Tell Anyone

When I tell people that I run, I recognize the initial shock and horror on their faces. And while it’s never been clinically documented, I’ve been told many times that I’m crazy for jogging in the heat, rain and snow. Running is my little secret.

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Kristi's Korner

My Greatest Fear

If you really knew me and understood me, you’d note something beyond the smile and sunny disposition. Sure, I’m a positive person. I’m also organized and detail-oriented. I tend to be clever, creative, caring and independent. I respect and honor good communication, and to top it all off I floss daily. It would seem that I’ve got a lot going for me—at least that’s what my resume reflects.

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Kristi's Korner

The Devil Made Me Do It

I remember sitting wide-eyed on the floor as a child, a little girl engaged by animation and the screen of a big television. Twenty years later, an array of educational television programs and networks are produced for children. I like to think that although I wasn’t learning Spanish or sign language, the occasional cartoon indulged my imagination and perhaps developed within me a slight sense of humor…and just a hint of dignity.

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Still looking for my 'type'

Ten years ago I sat in a crowded classroom of a local high school, trying to focus between the ringing and dinging of obnoxious chimes. It wasn’t a bell choir or even a music class. It was Typing 101.

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Valentine's Day: Where's The Love?!

My grandparents used to read each other the messages on those little candy hearts every Valentine’s Day. They would giggle and smile coyly like two teenagers before dropping the tiny confection into the other’s mouth. I was only 10 years old when I saw this and realized that I wanted “grandparent love” someday. “Grandparent love” is that unconditional, hold-hands, drink coffee together in the morning and tea at night, in-it-for-the-long-haul type of love. This love has the comfort of homemade bread and the warmth of a wood-burning stove.

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Living in a World of Make Believe.

As a child I spent most of my playtime in an imaginary world. With several siblings and cousins at my disposal, I carefully selected the cast and plot of every fictitious adventure. On Saturday afternoons, shortly after our upper lips were stained red with Kool-Aid, we came together to escape a great childhood in order to live and discover an even greater dream.

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He was wearing a gray suit.

The most interesting thing happened to me today at Meijer---and of all places, in the toilet paper isle. I was considering the differences between Charmin and Quilted Northern when an attractive young man, perhaps in his late 20's, wearing a gray suit, red tie and a smile, said to me: "Getting in your weekly shopping, eh?" Without turning around I immediately thought, Please no. Please don't let me get hit on in the tissue isle at Meijer.

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On a warm spring day several years ago, the tassel from my cap drifted in and out of view as my head spun with sheer panic to the droning symphony of graduation music. I was expected to celebrate the hard work, the "best years of my life" and the impending success. But in reality I was entirely frightened by the unknown. With a diploma in one hand and a suitcase in the other, I was practically thrown out onto the doorstep of a massive university, expected to make something of my life at the ripe age of 22. But like a frightened child kicking and screaming for their blanket, I retreated to the only other place I knew: home. So I set out to the safe and familiar Kalamazoo. And I cried the whole way there.

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