Amanda and the Snowmobile | February 8, 2023

I don’t know about you, but we have reached the point in the year when I have decided it’s spring. It’s spring. It’s spring even though this is North Dakota and last week we had thirty-below wind temperatures and there’s a ton of snow on the ground. Also, astronomers and humanity have determined spring doesn’t begin in the Northern Hemisphere until March. Still, the sunshine looks like spring (and I’m tired of wearing socks); therefore, it is spring, so sayeth I.

Since it is basically spring, it feels like there has been a large uptick in outdoor winter-based activities so that everyone can use their new cross-country skis before it’s time to pack them up in the garage (and, in the case of my family, forget about them forever). Last week, Kyle stood at the kitchen window, coffee cup in hand, staring at a few small drifts of snow that had blown onto our backyard rink. The temperature was roughly -15.

“If we don’t clear off the rink by Sunday, there won’t be any more skating this year,” he said, and sniffed.

In addition to mourning the future loss of his beloved rink (note: last year he took it down in May), Kyle has become hot and bothered with the idea that summer is just around the corner and he only got to snowmobile once this winter – at Christmastime, when we were up in Saskatchewan at his dad’s house.

Kyle comes from an outdoorsy family. Even if you set aside the fact that his dad is a third-generation farmer and my limited understanding of farming families is that the #1 rule is that you must be in the process of going outside or be actually outside for 90% of your waking hours (the #2 rule is that you must have at least one story that starts out, “We were digging/standing around this hole when…”), they are still the type of family that does things outdoors for fun. If we go back to the snowmobiling thing, for example, my father-in-law likes to go on multi-day snowmobile trips with his buddies, which are like road trips but on a sled (and not on the road).

My family, on the other hand, is indoorsy. Even when we do things outside, the goal of the activity is to get back inside – like, if we go hiking, we need to be back by a set time because we have a lunch reservation. I met Kyle in December 2004 and we were engaged by April 2005, which meant there was about a four-month period where I fought hard against my natural instincts so as to seem “cool” and “fun” and “basically a different person.” Since part of that dating period happened, coincidentally, in this pre-spring timeline we are in now, I took part in the aforementioned activity of snowmobiling, and I’m going to tell you about that now.

With all that “coolness” and “funness” abounding, Kyle and I got very serious very quickly, and decided we’d better take a trip up to Canada so I could meet his brothers before we surprised them with an engagement.

“Pack your winter gear!” Kyle told me. “We can spend Saturday snowmobiling!”

“Awesome!” I replied, probably truthfully because I was, then, a different person.

Saturday rolled around. We had breakfast, and I made a big show about putting on long underwear, sweats, snowpants, two pairs of socks, boots, and jacket. Kyle topped off the outfit with a snowmobile helmet.

“You’re legit!” He told me.

“Sure am!” I said, legitly.

“Where are you going?” Kyle’s mom asked.

“Just around,” Kyle said – a phrase which I, his wife of 17 years, now knows means “Somewhere that will take much longer than anyone but Kyle has anticipated and will definitely go over a meal hour.”

We got on the snowmobiles. Kyle offered me some very in-depth instruction which included, “This is the gas” and “This is the brake,” and then pointed in the direction of a snowy field across from the house. He gave me a thumbs up, and I gave him a thumbs up, and we were off.

Or, rather, Kyle was off because the normal me came out and realized I was 1) outside, 2) operating a motor vehicle, and 3) didn’t know the plan for lunch. Still, if I was going to potentially marry into this outdoorsy family I figured I should make an effort to be amazing at #1 and #2, and assumed my future-future husband would have some kind of wonderful picnic planned at a secret destination. I gently turned the throttle(?) and the snowmobile shot off into the sunshine. And by “shot off,” I mean crawled along at about fifteen kilometers per hour.

Kyle realized I was moving at basically a walking pace, and so he slowed down. It took either five minutes or 300 hours for me to reach him. He gave me a thumbs up, and I gave him a thumbs up, although my thumb was already cold. He took that gesture to mean, “I’m doing so great, let’s go MUCH MUCH faster.” He sped up to 30 kph, and then 50 – and I, for reasons unknown to me even now, did the same.

You’ll be surprised to hear that snowmobiles ride on the snow. You’ll also be surprised to hear that when you ride a snowmobile (or sled, or basically anything) quickly through the snow, the snow flies up at your body and face. And you’ll be REALLY surprised to know that after another five minutes or 300 hours of being showered with snow in the outdoors without a lunch reservation in sight, I turned back into my normal, non-cool self.

We were somewhere in the middle of a (different) field when I shut off my snowmobile. Kyle flipped around.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’d like a break,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. He took my picture.

“Ready?” He asked.

“No,” I said. “More of a break.”

“Okay,” he said, and looked around into what could be described as an unending winter abyss. I sniffed, sad that I was going to have to break up with this great guy because I couldn’t be the type of person who liked having snow pelted at my face.

But then, a miracle happened.

“The Shack is nearby,” Kyle said. “Do you want to have lunch?”

The Shack was (and is, assuming it’s still there) a little one-room house in the middle of a copse of trees for snowmobilers to rest between rides. It had a little bench, a little fireplace, and a little table where Kyle set down the cooler he had packed without my knowledge. In it was a pack of hot dogs.

“Are you having fun?” Kyle asked me.

“Yes,” I said, because I loved hot dogs and the indoors of things.

“Do you want to go back home after this?”

“Yes please,” I said.

“No problem,” Kyle said, because he loved me.

Eighteen years later, I haven’t gotten back on the proverbial horse. I have, however, become mildly more outdoorsy, to the point that I went on a five-minute ride on my father-in-law’s fancy new Ranger…before making Kyle turn around so I could get ready for lunch.

The photo above is a montage of our snowmobile trip. Look how outdoorsy I am!

Minot’s JJ Franks – a seventh grader, by the way – is $10,000 richer after making a lay-up, free throw, three-point shot, and half-court shot at Bishop Ryan. (KFYR TV) (Today Show)

Team North Dakota is headed to the ice sculpting nationals. (Valley News Live)

Emma Buee is the first female wrestler from Des Lacs-Burlington to sign a college commitment (she’s going to Augsburg University). (KFYR TV)

The Native American Development Center in Bismarck is now hosting youth drum circles in order to connect students with the music and culture of their elders. (KFYR TV)

TrainND is looking to “kill” people with kindness in order to fund scholarships for CDL drivers, crane operators, and other technical services. (Williston Herald)

A neighborhood in Bismarck came together to build one centralized ODR. (KFYR TV)

Taking someone fishing could net you an ice house. (KFYR TV)

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Profiles in Profile: Kyle Kosior Live | February 1, 2023

We are now in the thick, THE THICK, of the winter hockey season. Between our eleven-year-old’s travel team, our seven-year-old’s league and fun skates, and Kyle’s job with the hockey agency, we spend so much time at various rinks that I’m thinking about getting an Airstream and rolling it from parking lot to parking lot so that I can take my ~~pants~~ shoes off between games.

While we spend the bulk of our non-work waking hours at the rink – a couple of Sundays ago, Kyle was there from 6:30am to 8:00pm and I was there from 8:00am on because I am the suckier parent – we don’t actually spend any time together. One kid is always in the locker room or on the ice, the other is running around with his friends or at the concession stand, and Kyle is as far away from me as physically possible without having to actually leave the building.

Kyle likes to watch hockey. He likes to WATCH it. He does not like to chit-chat about post-game lunch, or browse the wares at the concession stand, or hold my coffee while I go outside to the car to take my ~~pants~~ shoes off. He likes to WATCH. HOCKEY. He likes to WATCH IT.

He also wants to remain married to me. He wants to REMAIN MARRIED. Because he wants to remain married to me, he cannot say, “Amanda, shut your piehole about the meltiness of the cheese at the concession stand and watch frickin’ hockey,” and so, instead, Kyle has found a way to avoid me by streaming the games on Facebook Live for his twenty-person throng of adoring fans.

He streamed for the first time last year. We were in Devils Lake, and he stood at the back of the bleachers on the side of the rink opposite from me and used the camera on his phone to follow the play.

“I’m doing this for your dad,” he told me. “He wanted to see the game.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

He streamed again the next day in Grand Forks…at a place with a Rink Cam that could be accessed online. This time, he called out penalties and goals and player names.

“Your dad can’t hear the sound on the Rink Cam,” he said. “It’s for your dad.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

The following weekend, Kyle started doing play-by-play for his audience of three: my dad, and two grandmas who didn’t want to drive in the cold. He also added in some light color, notably by proclaiming that the stream was sponsored (it was not) by a business owned by one of our friends: Great Plains Plumbing and Heating.

“This game brought to you by Great Plains Plumbing and Heating,” he said into his phone. “Great Plains Plumbing and Heating: We’re coming in hot!” (That is not their tagline.)

Both my dad and Kyle thought he was very funny.

A few days later, my dad presented Kyle with two lavalier microphones that plugged into his phone and clipped onto jacket lapels. A month after that – now with ten-plus grandmas and grandpas on the stream who tuned in primarily to hear their grandchild’s names and secondarily for Kyle’s commentary (“We’re broadcasting live from Minot; so close to Canada you can smell the taxes”) – the other parents gave him a t-shirt with “NACHO AVERAGE COMMENTATOR” written across the back. And, with that, Kyle became the self-proclaimed official gameday network of all of our sons’ hockey teams in perpetuity.

Less than thirty days later, Kyle’s official status became a bit of a problem at the start of Eleven’s spring hockey season because another dad on the team (a different group than the winter season) was ALSO the official gameday network of his own sons’ hockey teams. Fortunately, that dad had a nicer phone and Kyle had a nicer microphone setup, so they joined forces with the other dad on play-by-play and camera work and Kyle on color and microphone ownership. His Emmy-nominated line of the season was, “Looks like he’s getting that penalty for, um…reasons.” Great Plains Plumbing and Heating was, once again, an unwilling and unpaid sponsor.

Fast-forward to this winter season. Now a seasoned broadcaster, and the owner of a gimble thanks to a generous gift from another hockey family (while Kyle’s commentary is spot-on, his camera work leaves something to be desired – especially since he likes to WATCH HOCKEY and sometimes forgets that he’s holding a camera), Kyle’s production has been taken to the next level. For example, he has more unsigned sponsors, including Spicer Container and Salvage (“Spicer Container and Salvage: Get That Stuff Out of Here”) and North Dakota Nice (“North Dakota Nice: [Our street address]’s most popular blog, 2021”). He has added in a section called “Profiles in Profile,” in which he turns to whomever is seated nearest to him, points the camera on the side of their face, and asks what they think of the game (Spoiler: everyone thinks the boys are doing a good job).

Kyle also has taken to including guest announcers whenever possible – selected, like “Profiles in Profile,” based on proximity. As most of the parents have figured out that if you sit next to Kyle he’s going to hand you a mic, the majority of his co-commentators are children. Our own seven-year-old did the first period at a recent game, during which Kyle asked him how he expected the next hour to go.

“Well, it’s either going to go really, really good, or really, really bad,” Seven said.

“Hard to contradict that,” Kyle said in response.

Fortunately, Kyle’s demographic is almost entirely over 60 or under 8, so these guests do very well. In fact, one of the grandmas routinely asks for updates on her own granddaughter sitting in the stands.

Another one of those grandmas also suggested that Kyle stream her other grandson’s Peewee game.

“Haha,” Kyle said, but not in a real HAHA way, more like in a “Maybe” way, which made me a little nervous because we don’t really need any more rink time. I’m considering asking him to start a lawn dart league so I can at least sit outside (pants optional).

Last weekend, our son’s team played the other Grand Forks team at a tournament. It was quite the competition – for the dads – because pictured here is Kyle and his co-presenter (the dad mentioned above) having to call the game on two separate, competing streams. This is as close as I was allowed to get.

Bring yo’ kids’ best smiles; the North Dakota State College of Science Allied Dental Education Clinic is providing free dental work on February 10. (Wahpeton Daily News)

Cavalier’s Ava Robinson won the junior Beargrease as a 14-year-old and is now preparing for the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon. (Valley News Live)

Best of luck to Wyndmere’s McKinnlee Haberman, winner of the local 2023 Poetry Out Loud contest, who is now headed to the national competition. (Wahpeton Daily News)

For communities without a public library, there is now a book vending machine. (Hillsboro Banner)

The Fargo community came out to support a new supermarket, owned by a brother-sister duo who came to North Dakota after escaping Vietnam. (Fargo Forum)

I did not know this was a thing until now: congratulations to the winners of the Barnes County Wildlife Annual Coyote Calling Contest – the results of which (by number of coyotes called) are listed here. (Valley City Times Record)

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Halloween, costumes, and hugs | November 2, 2022

I’ve written about Halloween costumes every single year I’ve had North Dakota Nice because I love costumes. Lerve them. Looove them. One of my favorite costumes was a Rainbow Brite get-up that I wore for Halloween in 1985 AND 1986 because it had striped tights and a plastic smock and was rad. Nowadays, if you were to dress up as Rainbow Brite you’d get a blonde wig and a giant hairbow, but the 80s were pretty literal so my costume instead came with a full-head mask where the eyes were punched, not in the face, but in the hair – because nothing says “Gonna take you for a ride” like four eyeballs:

Another favorite costume was in college. Two of my roommates were English majors and I was an English minor, and we dressed up as a Prepositional Phrase. Specifically, we were the phrase, “Against the wall,” with each of us wearing a t-shirt with one of the words (I was the “The”). Exactly zero of our fellow Halloween partygoers got it; and when we educated them on our cleverness, most people nodded slowly and said, “Huh.” before wandering off. (The following year I was a Sexy Pirate and everyone seemed to have a handle on that.)

The only thing I like more than costumes are hugs. My dream job would be to be a Disney Princess, because dressing up like Sleeping Beauty and hugging kids all day sounds like a 1985 Rainbow Brite costume (i.e. rad). However, it turns out you need to be “tall” and “beautiful” and not “short” and “Jewish-y-looking” to be a Disney Sleeping Beauty, so I guess I’ll just have to bide my time until Feivel Mousekewitz from An American Tail really takes off (what kid DOESN’T see themselves in a depressing story about escaping Russian pogroms?!).

Women (and maybe men, too, what do I know) love to talk about our Love Languages – Compliments, Quality Time, Acts of Service, Buying Candles And Then Never Burning Them. My language is, obviously, Physical Touch. I love hugs. Lerve them. I love strong hugs, wimpy hugs, one-arm side hugs, whatever. If I had my way, I’d hug every one of my coworkers before and after work (and then I’d hug H.R. after they inevitably brought me in for a “Keep your hands to yourself” chat). My little sister is my gold standard for hugging. Her hugs are warm and smushy and smell great. She could give me a birthday coupon for a ten-minute hug AND I WOULD USE IT, I REALLY WOULD.

Kyle’s family’s Love Language is No Touching – so much so that when we first got engaged and I was in the process of meeting his extended family my sister-in-law would go in ahead of me and warn them, “Hey, everyone, Amanda’s a hugger,” so they could steel themselves for what was to come. However, for a family that doesn’t like touching they are incredibly good huggers, and I know because after seventeen years together they will initiate my hugs just to get them out of the way.

North Dakota is also not big on touching. North Dakotans don’t even really like touching themselves (gross, not like that). For example, I have been to many, many movies in the theater (humble brag). In every non-North Dakota U.S. state where I’ve seen a movie, someone has applauded at some point during the film. I have never, ever been to a movie in North Dakota where someone in the audience has felt compelled to clap. This does not mean that North Dakotans don’t like the movies. Au contraire. It means they show their affection in other respectfully-distanced ways, such as wearing a humorous t-shirt with the movie’s tagline on it or telling their friends of their partiality towards the cinema.

Like my sister, North Dakotans are warm (and smell great); and, of course, they WILL hug; it’s just not their first instinct when engaging with someone. “Well, everyone is like that, Amanda,” you may be thinking. Listen, I lived in Boston for six years, my sister lived in Los Angeles for a decade, and our mom’s entire side of the family is on the East Coast – and I can tell you with confidence that East and West Coasters not only hug, but kiss one another like they are trying to win a numbers competition. In more than one instance I have been introduced to an East or West Coaster who kissed me on the LIPS, and I honestly and truly can’t imagine what would happen if I did that to a North Dakotan (wait, yes I can – they would kiss me back and then avoid me for the rest of my life).

While the Kosiors are family and can’t avoid my hugs, I try not to put my fellow North Dakotans in a similarly awkward position. However, I still need my daily touches, so I’ve taken to patting people on their back and/or arm as a consolation: “I’m so happy to see you [pat pat].” “How have you been [pat pat]?” “You look great [pat pat pat]!” I’ve also found that if I pat people enough, over time they will hug me when they see me…so, double win.

Last night was the most beautiful Halloween in memory: sixty degrees, nary a whisper of wind, and a sun that shone all the way to sunset. Kyle and I took our seven-year-old trick-or-treating (Eleven went with his friends); and Seven, who normally likes hugs about as much as his father, was so taken in by the weather, the candy, the decorations, and the spookiness that he actually stopped other children for a hug (or a pat) at various intervals throughout the evening. I sneaked a couple from him since he was handing them out so willingly, and for a few brief seconds I was fulfilling my dream of being a Disney Princess – wearing my high school letterman jacket, but close enough.

The photo above is of me and my little anti-hugger.

I say this every year, but I am so touched by the fact that the entire Grand Forks comes together to make sure Halloween is a great time for all of our children. Some of the neighborhoods must have received 2,000+ kids per house (I saw one news report that said 5,000 for a particular street), and they leaned into it with big-time decorations, food trucks, and teenagers tapped to play crossing guards on the busier streets.

Here is my favorite story from last night: We were walking through a sea, A SEA, of people when Seven screeched, “LOOK, IT’S PATRICK STAR!” Lumbering straight at us was a 7’ tall blow-up costume of Patrick Star from the TV show Spongebob Squarepants. “HI, PATRICK!” Seven shouted through the crowd. “Patrick” walked a few steps past us, turned around, and from somewhere around his navel the voice of an elementary-aged boy yelled, “S’UP!” He then turned around and disappeared into the throngs. (Unrelated: from this point forward, I shall only respond to greetings with “S’UP!”)

This week’s news has Meatloaf and potato salad. Read on.

That’s it, I’m calling it – this is the Nice Story of the Year: two kids in Minot realized a candy bucket was empty, so they refilled it from their own stash. (KFYR TV)

Twins Eddie and Vinny Opp are Halloween-famous around Hillsboro for their amazing costumes. (Hillsboro Banner)

Dickinson’s Eric Sticka is on the road to recovery with the support of the Sticka Strong community. (KFYR TV)

Fargo’s Big Boy, Meatloaf, Cinnamon, and Buggy are Internet celebrities. (Fargo Forum)

Speaking of famous, Eva Schlepp’s potato salad is the talk of the town in Ashley. (KFYR TV)

Bismarck teacher Robert Fuller competed – and took Silver! – at the International Powerlifting Federation’s World Masters Men’s Classic Championships. (KFYR TV)

Dickinson artist Linda Little has sculpted a bronze statue of Medora de Vallombrosa – the namesake of Medora – and has installed it at the Von Hoffman house in Medora. (Dickinson Press)

A two-hundred-year-old tree needed to come down due to Dutch Elm Disease, and so Bismarck carpenter Michael Knodel has spent over 1,000 hours creating “something special for the city of Lisbon.” (KFYR TV)