Sargasso Chronicles

flowers for the shower

2009-10-01T20:06:00.003-05:00

I found this great Amy Butler fabric at the little fabric store down the road:

Funky victorian wallpaper. So I finally got off my butt and made a new shower curtain for the bathroom. Lovely!

Beef a la Anuja

2009-09-14T10:05:00.001-05:00

Have I mentioned that MI is a magnificent chef? Well he is. Our friend Anuja is also a wonderful chef and MI borrowed this recipe from her and prepared a delicious dinner on a recent Sunday. One of my favorite things about fall is Sunday slow cooked meat - MI is a master. The recipe follows; Anuja used 6 lbs of meat for a dinner party and MI halved the recipe for us.

Beef a la Anuja

Approx. 6 lbs slow cooking beef (any cut);
generously salt and pepper the meat and sear in a hot pan on all sides, setting aside once browned;
deglaze slightly with your favorite beer or add a little olive oil and slightly sauté whole onions studded with cloves (for 6lbs meat I used 4), 4 or 5 smashed whole garlic cloves and a couple of whole jalapenos ( this is only sauteed for a minute);
add the rest of the beer and deglaze;
add back the meat, a bay leaf or two and enough water to cover the meat.
At this point I put it in a 250 degree oven to slow cook. Cook until the meat starts to fall apart. It might take anywhere from 2-3 hours;
after the meat is done, pull out and set aside to cool so you can shred it;
discard the aromatics;
reduce the remaining broth (we reduced to 2.5 cups for 6lbs meat).
Once the liquid is reduced, pour out and set aside to reuse the pot;
In some olive oil, sauté 2 large sliced onions, 1 cinnamon stick, 4 sliced bell peppers (multiple colors), and chopped jalapenos (number varies on taste; since we were making it for a large group I only used one);
once these are sauteed down a little add a couple of minced cloves garlic. The process to get them cooked down could take 20 min.
Once soft add chopped tomatoes (we used one box of pomi for the volume we were creating) and add reduced liquid broth. Add some salt and pepper and simmer for 15 min.
At this point, taste to adjust seasoning and start to slowly reduce the liquid to the consistency you want. We wanted to serve this as tacos so reduced it enough for it to be really thick when the shredded beef was added back. Some serve it with rice so would leave it soupier.
When the liquid is at the consistency you want, turn off stove and add in the shredded meat, mix well and let it cool.
You can also let this sit overnight so the flavors meld.
Enjoy!!

MI also made a cucumber and asparagus salad with a lemon vinaigrette. Yum!

Happy Birthday Grampa

2009-08-28T18:14:00.004-05:00

Today is my grampa's birthday. He passed away in January of 2007; here's a picture of me, grampa, grammy, and my cousin Ian in June 2006:

Sometimes I have an easy way with words, but when it comes to my grandfather I have a hard time articulating exactly what he meant to me and exactly how much I miss him. He lived a long life full of friends and family and I'm grateful that I got to be such an integral part of it. His passing was a blessing for him and my family as he had quickly deteriorated to stage 6 or 7 Alzheimer's and was only a shadow of the man I remember as my grandfather. That being said, knowing this does not make me miss him less.

My childhood and adolescence is wrapped in a quilt of memories created by my grammy and grampa Hatch. My dad said that today was a day of reflection for him and so it ended up being for me. Flashes of memories: grampa's sandy New Balance sneakers at the cottage door, sitting with him in the old red recliner, watching him and my grammy jitterbug around the cottage, mornings that smelled of coffee and tasted like egg on toast at 60 North St., his constant presence at all of my father's games while I stayed home with grammy, visiting him at the Print Shop, watching him run the Bath Elks Race with Melvin Mouse, his smile - every time my dad and/or uncle dean smile its a warm reminder of him; honest, infectious, joyful, full of love - it's amazing what some smiles convey.

When I was a very little girl I had a crush on my grandfather. That may sound weird, but I thought he was the best thing since sliced bread - the smartest, funniest, handsomest, strongest, most successful man I knew. What I discovered as I grew up was that he actually was all of those things. I adored him and idolized him and he did not disappoint. It always bothers me when people look back on family or friends who have passed away and only recognize the good without taking note of the flaws, but I think a lot of grandchildren have a unique perspective; I know I did. Grampa never had to discipline me or speak harshly to me to "teach me a lesson", that was my parent's job. He showered me with love and praise and affection, which I probably didn't deserve with such consistency. But that praise made me want to be the best human ever and to live up to his idea of me. I remember once, I was probably around 8, I was staying with my grandparents at the cottage for a week as I did each summer and I heard grampa say over the ceiling less wall while I dozed off to sleep, "Katie's such a good girl, she really is" and my grammy agreed with him. They thought I was fast asleep but I heard every word and felt so proud that they thought so highly of me. I look back at that moment and picture my grampa innocently reflecting on the day's activities and coming to the conclusion that I was "a good girl"; he made me want to make him proud and I did. What a feeling! So loved and accepted and warm and comfortable! What more could a little girl ask for? Nothing.

Right now I wish I was a little girl again so I could run up to grampa and throw my arms around him and wish him a happy birthday, but I also feel lucky that I had that chance for all of those years he was here and I'm thankful that I took advantage of it. I think one of the reasons that I feel such a sad heart sometimes when I'm at Popham is because his spirit is so alive there. He permeates the little cottage and envelops the land around it. I expect to see him climbing the ladder to clean the gutters or circling the cottage with the mosquito fog. My fond memories can sometimes feel like a punch in the gut. It hurts to miss him; but I'm so glad I had him to miss.

*sigh. a bit sad today. But I'm off to enjoy the company of my friends as grampa and grammy made a habit of doing; actually a life of doing. Work hard, play hard and love your friends and family with the fierceness they deserve - thanks for teaching me that.

First Kiss

2009-08-19T09:16:00.002-05:00

He's all mine and has been for some time now.

3 years ago in August I was lusting after him and wondering when or if our casual "outings" and talks on the phone would lead to something more. We'd been on a couple of dates, hung out with friends, and had numerous email exchanges and phone conversations but after two months, still no kiss. I was too chicken to make the first move which left me wondering, why won't he? Is he just not that into me? Is there someone else? Is he gay? Does he just want to be friends? Is he a germaphobe? Does he think I smell or will taste like hot dogs? You know, the normal questions that go through a woman's mind while awaiting "the first move". For a number of reasons (I was afraid I forgot how to kiss, fear of rejection) the anticpation was making me nutso.

And then one evening in the very beginning of September we made plans to go to the movies to see Little Miss Sunshine (I still have the ticket stub in my wallet). The whole time sitting close to him in the dark theater my heart beat a bit faster and my palms were sweaty. On the ride home my insides were a frenzy of activity and as we made our way closer to my apartment I was a hot mess with the anticpation of goodbye. Our previous drop offs had consisted of an anxious me not willing to seal the deal and a seemingly reluctant p - I basically jumped out of the car as it rolled to a stop to avoid the awkwardness.

And so we arrived in my driveway. I glued my butt to the seat and fought the flight instict (god he made me all a flutter!)and we chatted for a bit about the movie and our upcoming week. As the conversation waned, I decided to go in for it - sort of. I decided to go in for a hug and see where it went from there. Nothing scary about a hug, right? So I leaned in, arms extended while simultaneously he turned away from me to cough into the window and so the result was an awkward side/arm embrace - not seamless. As I released his emprisoned arm I had a "fuck it" moment and I planted my lips on his. We kissed - finally. I kissed him and he kissed me back and it was good. I pulled away and let out a huge sigh of relief and said "thank god that's over with!" and laughed. I opened the car door and as I was about to flee he grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him and kissed me passionately. I melted in his arms and fell in love with him. I was in the movies, I had to be. It was the best kiss ever.

"Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. The End."

Quick while I have a window!

2009-08-19T08:41:00.004-05:00

I have been lax in posting to say the least and I blame work. I can no longer access my blog at work which cuts into precious writing time (I know, I should be working but that's just not as much fun). But for some reason the internet gods were looking down on me today and I caught a window of access to the blog! So without further ado, a brief look at Lucy's wedding at Popham Beach on August 1st:

16 William St.:

Getting low:

Serious about it:

And yes, my parents were there to witness (and partake in) the debauchery.

Lawson

2009-04-02T20:51:00.003-05:00

I've been a terrible blogger. I blame the fact that my server at work has blocked all blogs! So now I am forced to update at home and I can always find excuses not to open my computer at home since I'm on it all day at work.

BUT if anything, or anyone I should say, could spur me to write an entry it would be my new nephew, Lawson Royce Mayer!

I spent the most amazing afternoon at the hospital with VV and Drew and the newest member of the Mayer family. Mom and Dad were kind enough let me snuggle with the little guy for quite awhile and I couldn't keep my eyes off his perfect little face. Mom and Dad look amazing and are doing great. I can't wait to see my gorgeous best friend blossom into an amazing mother. She's already a natural. I love this little one so much already, I can't believe we're so grown up and VV is a Mama!!!! where did the time go? Just yesterday I feel like we were pulling the heads of barbies and driving around my grandparents retirement park in Florida in our favorite golf cart.

All my love to the Allen/Mayer/Frackelton fams!

tough times

2009-02-12T10:44:00.003-05:00

These days, my job is getting more difficult. I like my new position, it offers variety and I'm busy and challenged daily. However, as the economy continues to plummet, the companies I work with are beginning to fall - hard. It's no longer a matter of holding someones hand through the downturn, I'm now seeing the true impact and am "forced" to liquidate a company's assets. It sucks. And on top of that, the top dogs within the bank and the OCC are beginning to scrutinize our portfolios, processes, and documentation. Conclusion - I'm lucky to have a job but we're all screwed.

2009-01-30T11:42:00.002-05:00

Last night I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. The movie has 13 Oscar nominations so it was on my must see list; however, my expectations weren’t high as I’d heard mixed reviews. I didn’t love the movie; in fact, I didn’t particularly like the movie. There were aspects that I enjoyed, but it was long and not overly interesting. However, I had a very strong emotional reaction to the movie. I stifled back tears in the theater and then let them run freely as I drove home alone after the movie and then I broke down again in MI’s arms at home (he was at the movie also, but we had taken separate cars). And it was one of those ugly cries, you know the kind, where the snot runs from your nose and your mascara ends up all over your face and all over the shirt of the one you love. There was slobbering and sniffling.

So, you may be wondering why I had such a reaction if I didn’t particularly like the movie. I’ve thought about it. Of course, the impossible relationship between Benjamin and Daisy was a bit of a trigger; they were so happy when they “met in the middle”, but the realization that their relationship couldn’t work was sad. But it wasn’t this that set me off. I think it was actually these words Benjamin wrote in a postcard to his daughter:

“For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”

These words echoed the theme of another Oscar nominated movie we recently watched, Revolutionary Road. In this movie, the Wheelers long for something more than the suburban life they’re chained themselves to. April Wheeler (Kate Winslet) especially feels trapped and longs for something more, something different; to escape the “hopeless emptiness”. She says “For years I thought we've shared this secret that we would be wonderful in the world.”

And so it was that theme – doing something different, doing something exciting, exploring somewhere new, being someone wonderful in the world, and realizing your full potential – that broke the dam. These feelings rumble beneath the surface of my daily grind every day. Last night I thought back to all of the times I had, but didn’t take, the opportunity to do something different and push myself in a new direction. I thought back to college and my decision to stay in Maine once Conn College didn’t pan out. And my decision to stay at school my Junior year and forgo the semester abroad in Siena. And my decision after college to stay at home after my father had his triple bypass surgery and move to Portland instead of San Diego or San Francisco as I had planned. And my decision to stay in my current job and make small changes within the same company instead of going back to school or attempting to write for a living. And my decision to go on a 3 week backpacking tour of Italy with LAM instead of traveling for an undefined amount of time and/or moving across the Atlantic as we had discussed.

Throughout my life, I realized, I have made the easy decisions. I have let fear of change stunt me and practicality inhibit me. So far have I lived a life I’m proud of? I think so, but I think I could do so much more. Like April Wheeler, I’ve always felt I’m bigger than whatever I’m doing; and I’ve felt that this job and this environment don’t really matter because I am destined for more. But life isn’t about sitting back and letting things fall into your lap, is it? Life is what you make of it, and “we can make the best or the worst of it.”

I have a good life and I am content. I live in great little city, with a strong and supportive network of friends just down the road and my family nearby. I have a good job that I now actually enjoy (for the most part) and I have a boyfriend who I love and who has made my life better. But I can’t help feeling that rumbling beneath the surface; that unsettled feeling; the feeling that I should be doing/living/experiencing something different, something more. I look forward to having a family of my own and “settling down”, whatever that means. But I also don’t want life to happen to me, I want to happen to life.

So what does this mean? Should I move? Should I quit my job? Should I sell all of my belongings and start over? What is that “thing” rumbling beneath the surface? I’m not 100% sure yet. But I’m thinking about it. And I’m thinking in general. And luckily I know MI shares some of these same feelings so we can figure it out together.

addict

2009-01-28T10:17:00.005-05:00

I have a problem; a big problem. Or I guess I should call it an addiction. I’ve gained some poundage over the past several months (relationship weight) and I am hell bent on shaving it off; however, one thing seems to be standing in my way. My problem; my addiction below:

The bagels with veggie cream cheese at the café next door to my office call my name in the morning. I’ve had one for breakfast for the last 3 days in a row. Monday it was wheat with veggie, yesterday, pumpernickel with veggie; today, poppy with veggie. The bagels are crispy on the outside and soft and gooey on the inside. The cream cheese is whipped, smooth and light (only in texture) with miniscule bits of carrot, onion, & celery.

I try to resist each morning when I head over to the café for my coffee. “I brought a banana today” I tell myself “I’m going to be good – be strong” or “hopefully they’ll be all gone this morning and I won’t have a choice” But, for the last three days, there they were; plump and inviting in the silver bin behind the counter just waiting to be toasted, spread with veggie cream cheese, and gobbled up at my desk. And alas, I have been weak and have given in to temptation time after time. I try to justify it by telling myself I’ll hit the gym harder, but we all know how that goes.

*sigh. I can feel the cream cheese and carbs headed straight for my spare tire and thighs. Tomorrow morning I will be stronger.

Obama Inauguration

2009-01-23T09:45:00.004-05:00

Flight to DC for the inauguration - check
Seated tickets (in front of Brian Williams) for the We Are One Concert at the Lincoln Memorial on Sunday with performances by Bruce Springsteen, U2, Garth Brooks, Mary J. Blige, etc. - check
Tickets to the live Oprah taping at the Kennedy Center on Monday where Jill Biden spilled that Joe had the choice of VP or Secretary of State - check
Tickets to the Moveon.org party with guests Moby, Michael Stipe, Rosario Dawson, Heather Graham, and Shepard Fairey (artist who did the HOPE poster) - check
Seated Lawn Tickets, front and center, for the Swearing in Ceremony at the Capital on Tuesday, 1/20/09 - check
Tickets to the Neighborhood Ball which aired on ABC where the President and First Lady danced to At Last sung by Beyonce, and including performances by Jay z, Sting, Stevie Wonder, Mariah Carey, Maroon 5, etc. - check
A personal driver with inauguration credentials to drive us to all of these events and avoid the clogged Metro - check

Having a wonderful and generous friend in charge of ticketing and credentials for the inauguration - priceless

This rock star weekend in DC deserves more attention so there will be more posts to come including some pics. We felt incredibly lucky and privileged to be able to experience all of these events and from such a close vantage point! It was an amazing experience, once in a lifetime.

New Years in Quebec

2009-01-06T21:18:00.007-05:00

We rang in the New Year in Quebec for 2009 with Christina and Jay (our favorite Canadian travel buddies)! Let me just tell you, it was cold. Freezing. Brutal. Everyone walked around in ski pants, parkas, boots, scarves, mittens, hats, etc. Long underwear was a must. We were planning to head to Austin, TX this year for New Years to visit friends but flights proved too expensive. We ended up Canada. It was 80 degrees in Austin.

thoughts of winter on boxing day

2008-12-26T14:24:00.004-05:00

The day has come and gone and now I am sitting back at work on boxing day with the knowledge that, while Christmas is over, winter has just begun.

A few weeks ago we had our first snowfall which was pleasant and beautiful. It was one of those soft quiet storms that leave you feeling alone, introspective and very comfortable. As I walked up to the corner store leaving footprints in the virgin snow, I marvelled at the stillness and solitude. The first blanket of fresh white snow is always the most settling, an ease into winter.

And then, a week ago, reality hit. The first real storm smacked into our little city. The snow fell for 2 or 3 days and I woke up one Monday morning, not to a settling, quiet, blanket of snow, but an aggressive haphazard suffocating pile of snow. The ice storm throttled us, hammered down, and left mucky streets, ice laden trees, powerless homes, and frigid cold in its wake. My car was going absolutely nowhere thanks to the onslaught and the plowman. Old man winter spanked us and jack frost didn't just nip at our nose, but put our whole head in his mouth. As I walked to work that frigid morning it hit me; ah yes, this is what winter is like. Soft blankets are over; welcome to ice, slush, and frost.

Winter

2008-12-26T14:23:00.001-05:00

Blizzard
BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS

Snow:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down —
the blizzard
drifts its weight
deeper and deeper for three days
or sixty years, eh? Then
the sun! a clutter of
yellow and blue flakes —
Hairy looking trees stand out
in long alleys
over a wild solitude.
The man turns and there —
his solitary track stretched out
upon the world.

bernese is blue!

2008-11-30T22:59:00.014-05:00

Several years ago Ness made me this gorgeous gift using chalk on paper (I think it was chalk on paper - I'm not an artist!):

Isn't it fabulous??!! It's a beautiful rendition of one of my favorite pictures of the two of us when we were just little girls. I think we were getting ready to play Cabbage Patch Kids (whatever that entails) and I have absolutely no idea why on earth I decided to wear a yellow floaty for the adventure!

The drawing has been stored at my parents house for safe keeping until I could afford to get it framed. I asked my parents to bring it this past Saturday (they came for dinner to meet Phil's parents - a separate blog entry!) so that I could finally get it framed and up on the wall. Halfway through dinner I caught a blue and white streak out of the corner of my eye and saw Bernese racing across the room covered in blue/green chalk! Apparently she decided she liked the drawing too and she lovingly rubbed up against it. Poor little girl, we were able to wipe some of it off but I'm afraid she's going to look like a smurf for a while.

I had a bit of panic attack at first thinking she must have ruined the drawing, but she didn't smudge it at all!! I think she was a bit embarrassed though; she hid in my bag.

I'll post a photo of the framed masterpiece once complete.

Brew Fest

2008-11-09T20:05:00.004-05:00

Last weekend we hit up Brew Fest in Portland once again. It was Phil's eleventh year! Last year I made him a shirt for his tenth anniversary and on the back it read "I'm a big deal at Brew Fest." This year apparently we went for a black-shirt theme. Kate and I drank many beers...

proud

2008-11-07T21:34:00.002-05:00

Allow me to wax poetic for a moment regarding the recent election. The one thing I do not want to do is polarize my readership (especially since there are only a handful of you!) and nothing is as divisive as politics, but I would be remiss in not recognizing the historic significance of the recent election of President (elect) Barack Obama. As most of you know, I was/am a supporter of Obama and did want him to win. That being said, I tend to run middle of the road politics wise as I’m socially liberal but fiscally conservative (a difficult balance, I realize). But in this election, I felt in my gut that Obama was my man (just as my friend T felt in his gut that McCain was his man) and I felt Obama could deliver the kind of change this country is in desperate need of.

I’ve been pretty disappointed in this country for the past few years, especially because of the deterioration of our foreign relations. When traveling abroad in Italy with LAM a couple of years ago, I was ashamed to tell people I was American because of the negative connotation it held and the dismissive look we got after revealing our home country. LAM and I met numerous young American travelers who had sewn Canadian flags to their packs so that people might mistake them for Canadians as opposed to Americans. The whole experience made me frustrated. The trip itself was amazing, but I wanted to wear my country’s flag with pride and not feel ashamed to tell every foreigner I ran into that I was from the United States.

On Tuesday night I felt proud again. I was happy that McCain delivered such a well spoken and thoughtful concession speech (it was a fresh breath of the pre-campaign McCain). But I was proud that our country elected the first African American president and First Lady to the White House after a history fraught with racial injustice. No matter your feelings on Obama’s politics, you have to admit that this country once again proved to the world that this is the land of opportunity, and that is something to be proud of. I wanted to run over to Italy (or perhaps fly) and tell everyone that I was from the country that elected a black man named Barack Hussein Obama to the White House. While this election didn’t erase the sins of our past (racial or otherwise), it did, I feel, open a new positive chapter in our country’s history; a chapter I was a part of and am proud of.

I know you all don’t hold the same opinions as I do (we would all be pretty boring if that was the case now wouldn’t we!) but I hope you appreciate my candidness. This will be the last time I bring up politics in this space – promise! Keep reading - K

Ahhhh

2008-11-04T23:49:00.001-05:00

Kathy is basking in CHANGE.

Ellie Bernese

2008-10-27T11:44:00.002-05:00

Kitten finally has a name! We tried several names over the past few weeks; Bernese, Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, Grammy Cat, Ryder, etc., but nothing seemed to fit. Last week, Phil took kitten to the vet and had to come up with a name on the spot (we couldn't very well tell them we hadn't named the little kitten yet after 4 weeks!) and so he blurted, "Elli". We decided to also adopt the first name we had chosen, Bernese. So there we have it; little Ellie Bernese.

a new friend for li li

2008-10-10T15:33:00.010-05:00

On impulse (which is how I tend to make most crazy decisions) I decided that Phil should have a buddy of his own and Leroy the girl cat needed a friend. Here's Li Li:

Doesn't she look like she needs a friend? So I was randomly at the Public Market grabbing lunch and there was a picture of a kitten on the cash register at Big Sky Bakery with a sign that read "Free Kitten". The kitten immediately reminded me of Phil's old cat with the double paws and I said "I think we need this kitten." So I picked the little girl up and brought her home! Here she is:

I was so excited to bring her home and show her to Phil and Li Li. Phil was excited. Leroy was NOT. The first three days of kitten's arrival, Li Li growled at her, hissed at her, and wouldn't let me anywhere near her. I ran home from work everyday to make sure Leroy hadn't lashed out and knocked poor kitten's little head off. On the second night, as I sat in the living room and watched the kitten run energetically around while Leroy growled and swatted at her, I thought, "maybe this was a bad idea."

But, by day four somehow miraculously Li Li's motherly instincts finally kicked in and she began to smother the kitten with licks and cuddles (until the kitten struggled at which point Li Li would pin kitten down and lick the crap out of her until she cried). They are still sisters after all.

Buffalo/Ontario Wine/Toronto - Part 2

2008-09-30T17:45:00.009-05:00

Phil, Jay, and I at Niagara Falls:

We left Niagara Falls and headed to the Ontario Wine region. As we drove through vineyards and quaint little towns, we felt as though were were in Napa or Sonoma, but we were actually in Ontario! This particular wine region is plentiful due to its location between two Great Lakes and it sits on the same latitude line as some of the wine regions in France. Ontario vineyards are known for their ice wines. Our first stop was Inniskillin:

Phil, Jay, Christina, and I took a tour of the winery and tasted several wines. The ice wines were VERY sweet, definitely a dessert wine and they were also pretty pricey. The grapes sit on the vine through winter and are hand picked off of the vines in late January when the temperature is just right to provide thoroughly frozen grapes. The grapes are pressed still frozen and only the sweet sugars are released. The wine is tasty, but potent! A little goes a long way. Of course, we picked up a few bottles of wine here. We stopped at a couple of other wineries on our way to Toronto and tasted a bit more and purchased a few more bottles. Trouble!

We finally made it Toronto Friday evening and met Kate, Phil's friend from law school, who had flown from Portland to meet us for the weekend. Kate is absolutely fabulous and it was so much fun having her there for the weekend. We headed to dinner that evening to celebrate Phil's birthday:

Birthday Tiramisu:

Phil and Kate post dinner:

On our way back to the hotel around midnight we saw a crowd of scantily clad girls standing outside of our hotel and crowding the lobby. And guess who they were they to catch a glimpse of.....none other than........our old favorite.......New Kids on the Block! Apparently NKOTB had a concert in Toronto that night and they were staying at our hotel! I was so excited! When we were younger (much younger!), the Allen girls and I had a serious obsession with NKOTB. We each claimed one as "our own" and I was stuck with John. We made scrap books, bought their CD's, traded their cards, you name it and I had it in paraphernalia. At that age my five most favorite things in the whole world were Jordan, John, Danny, Donny, and Joey. I remember going on vacation to DC once with my parents and insisting on taking my large John button to put on the nightstand. Borderline crazy? You bet!

We hung around the lobby for a bit and finally caught a glimpse of one of them:

Can you tell who it is? I'll give you a hint: he was VV's pick. Oh okay, I'll just tell you; it was Danny! And I've gotta say, it was crazy seeing him in the flesh, but he's a total loser now. That being said; the 10 year-old in me was absolutely dying!

We headed to the room after all that excitement and I put on my pj's and crawled into bed, only to be disturbed 5 minutes later by a wet feeling on my butt. "Did you spill something on the bed?" I asked Phil.

"No, why?"

"My butt feels wet," I got out of bed and, sure enough, there was a wet spot on my butt and on the sheets! I was very confused. I had been in bed all of five minutes so it couldn't have been my weak bladder!

"Pull back the sheets and see what's going on under there." I pulled back the sheets and it was soaked through to the pillow-top mattress and reeked of urine!!!! (Now I know how Kevin feels). Phil immediately jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to change rooms. They ended up comping us the equivalent of a nights stay, but I felt soiled for the rest of the trip! So icky.

Next up, Sox vs. Blue Jays Part 2...

Buffalo/Ontario Wine/Toronto - Part 1

2008-09-29T22:15:00.006-05:00

I've been MIA as of late due to the fact that Phil and I were off on a bit of an adventure for his birthday! We flew to Buffalo last Thursday (the ultimate destination was Toronto, but it was cheaper to fly to Buffalo and drive the two hours to Toronto. And when we realized that Niagara Falls and the Ontario Wine Region were en route, we were all for driving!) and spent a nice night at an absolutely fabulous B&B in the hip little neighborhood of Elmwood. We absolutely fell in love with the neighborhood and our "home" for the evening and I became mildly obsessed with a fabulous pair of rain boots I picked up at a boutique near our Inn and a ceramic guinea hen at another little storefront which was way out of my price range! Of course, we immediately stopped at Duffy's for some famous buffalo wings or just "wings" as they are referred to in Buffalo. No need to be redundant, right?

Here is the yumminess:

The next morning we drove our rental car to the airport and picked up Phil's best friend from college, Jay, and his girlfriend, Christina. Jay and Christina live in D.C. and we were so excited they were able to join us for our drive to the big Canadian city. We stopped at Niagara Falls for some pics:

Ontario Wine and Toronto to follow....

Red Sox vs. Blue Jays: Part One

2008-09-15T07:11:00.009-05:00

I know you are all are going to be shocked to hear this, but yesterday was my very first Fenway Park experience! I know what you're thinking, "Dad H never took little Kathy to Fenway in all of her 18 years living at home? I'm shocked!" Yes, it is true. While my parents enjoyed an annual trip to Fenway with their friends to see the Red Sox play, as a kid I stayed home with Grammy. But, in their defense, I never voiced interest in tagging along to watch "our team" partake in America's favorite pastime within the green walls of America's oldest baseball park. I was content to stay home with Grammy and do paint by numbers at the dining room table, watch Star Search, and eat homemade vanilla pudding.

But, for the last few years I've wanted to take a trip to Fenway and see the World Champions play 9 innings. I've looked for tickets for the past several summers, but World Championships come with a price; a sold out Fenway and atrociously expensive tickets. So you can imagine my surprise and excitement when my upstairs neighbor knocked on my door Friday evening after work and handed over two Red Sox vs. Blue Jays tickets for Sunday's game!

It happened like this (it really is a small world): Phil was riding home from work in Augusta with his carpool buddy, Dave, when Dave mentioned that he had a friend who was trying to get rid of a couple of Red Sox tickets for the Sunday game. Phil, knowing I had never been to Fenway, jumped at the chance for the last minute tix. Dave immediately called his friend and the friend told Dave to get Phil's address so she could drop the tickets off in his mailbox on her way out of town. When Dave relayed Phil's address, the voice on the other end said, "wait a minute that's my address, Phil's my downstairs neighbor!" One minute later Christina was knocking at my door and delivering a shocked Kathy the tickets. Like I said, small world.

We drove through two hours of pouring rain and arrived in an overcast, but surprisingly dry, Boston. As we made our way through the gates of the park and into the bleachers, I was giddy! All of my favorite players were out on the field. Here we are before the first pitch:

It happended to be Maine Day (how fitting):

The rain held off for the duration of the game and, as we feasted on Fenway Franks and cold beer, we watched the Sox manage a 4-3 win over the Blue Jays.

Next weekend we're headed to Toronto for Part Two of Red Sox vs. Blue Jays.

STATEMENT FROM THE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS ON TOM BRADY

2008-09-08T14:54:00.005-05:00

"After extensive tests this morning, it was revealed that New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady's left knee, which was injured in the first quarter of yesterday's game, will require surgery. He will be placed on injured reserve and will miss the remainder of the 2008 season."

Noooooooooooooo! New England's Golden Boy out for the season??!! It just can't be true...

Katahdin

2008-09-04T21:15:00.005-05:00

On Memorial Weekend at the end of May this year, I headed up to Baxter State Park with the Sauciers and Pelletiers to hike Katahdin. It was my first time on the mountain and, I'll be honest, it was the most challenging endeavor I've tackled to date! Phil's Mom reserved a few lean-tos at the Abol campsite which was at the base of the Abol trail. That particular trail happened to be the only trail opened that weekend. We woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed on Saturday morning, ready for our hike! There were thirteen of us in all, quite a crew hauling our sorry butts up the mountain. Here are some of the ladies at the beginning of the day. I had no idea what was in store...

The Abol trail is the shortest but steepest trail on Mount Katahdin making it the most difficult to maneuver. Once we cleared the base of the mountain past the trees, the vertical slope came into view. It didn't really look that far to the top, but looks can be deceiving. As we climbed the craggy slope, my legs and arms burned but I kept pushing. The view was amazing and as we neared the crest of the first rise I stopped frequently to take it all in (aka stop for a much needed rest!). When we finally reached the top after three or so hours of climbing, it was such a satisfying feeling! Here we are at the peak:

It's funny, I felt such relief when we reached the top, but I completely forgot the small detail of the way back down. Of course we had to climb down the same way we came up. Oh boy. As we made our way towards the trail from the peak, we saw another hiker in front of us grab a pair of very short skis from his pack and we watched him ski this small patch of snow. Nuts!

The descent was the most challenging of all. Our legs were tired and we had to maneuver down a steep slope of jagged boulders for a good hour and then another two hours of jagged boulders mixed with dangerously loose rock. My legs shook and threatened to give out as I carefully moved down the slope. I tried to keep my head down and concentrate on the task at hand; each time I looked out I felt as if I were hanging from the edge of the earth. When we finally reached the campsite, I was exhausted but proud of myself. We kicked that trails ass!

We celebrated with a bottle of white wine chilled in the brook and a great campfire complete with s'mores.

London

2008-08-31T08:49:00.007-05:00

In the new spirit of this page I will post updates on some of my Spring-Summer adventures. So let's start from the beginning; in this case Spring.

In the beginning of May (2008) I traveled to London for a week with my friend, Jen. We were both in need of a little excursion and what better place than the most expensive city across the pond? We took in a ton of sights in a weeks time and managed to fit in two shows (Hairspray and Chicago) and a few nice meals.

I surmounted my fear of heights and the first day we rode the London Eye and saw the city from a unique point of view. Here is the London Eye in the background behind Big Ben:

We took a day-trip on one of those tours to Leeds Castle, Cantebury Cathedral, The White Cliffs of Dover, and Grenwhich. The tour was finished with a cruise down the Thames under Tower Bridge. The trip also included a champagne toast. Spoiled. We took a separate day trip to The Tower of London. Here I am in front of Tower Bridge:

From great food to great drinks, great shows and great sites (British Museum, Westminster Abbey, Tate London & Tate Modern, Hyde Park, Harrods, etc.) and, most importantly, great company; it was a fabulous (but extremely expensive) kick off to Spring!

"me" part 2

2008-05-27T14:29:00.009-05:00

Siena as promised...

By the time L and I arrived in Siena we had already visited 5 Italian cities/towns and we were about half-way through our three week tour of Italy. On our first day in Siena, we decided to make our way to Piazza del Campo and climb the famous tower for a view of the town and the surrounding countryside. We weaved our way through alleyways until the cobblestones opened up to the shell-shaped Piazza del Campo. We faced the palatial Palazzo Pubblico (town hall) and it‘s impressive Torre del Mangia (bell tower), the focal point of the town square. Locals and tourists lounged at outside tables in front of cafes which lined the square (or circle, really) and students of the University of Siena were sprawled across the cobblestone field laying with their heads on book bags, others sitting cross-legged and chatting.

Upon entering the square I felt an overwhelming sense of regret. The feeling was rooted in my undergrad experience 5 years earlier. Let me try to explain... I struggled through my four years at The University of Maine for various reasons. I was intelligent, involved, and a high achiever in high school. As I wandered through my four years at Maine, I tried to “find myself” and instead ended up very lost. I gained great friendships; however, academically and personally I managed to exit my college years at age 22 with less self-confidence, less self-pride, and more confusion as to who “Kathy was” than when I entered at age 18.

In my second year at UMO I batted around the idea of studying abroad for a semester. The natural destination for me was Italy. My maternal grandmother was Italian and I felt a strong connection to that heritage. To me, Italy was exotic, cool, exciting, interesting, and different. I visited the Study Abroad Office on campus and met with an advisor who outlined two possible opportunities, a year in Florence or a semester in Siena. A year seemed too long. I focused on the semester in Siena and listened as the advisor explained that some of my credits would not transfer and I might have to stay an extra semester at Maine to graduate. This meant I would not graduate with my friends. I’m not sure what ultimately scared me away from the semester in Siena. It was probably a combination of things; the thought of life going on without me while I was away and missing out on “important” events with my friends (spring break, parties, concerts, etc.), the idea of staying an extra semester, the fear of the unknown (what the heck was this Siena place, anyway?). In the end I decided against the semester abroad and whatever my reasoning was, it seems silly now. And so I stayed and wandered through the rest of college and never really thought about Siena again until 5 years later when L and I decided to stop and visit on our three-week vacation/backpacking trip throughout Italy.

So, there we were in the Piazza del Campo surrounded by medieval architecture and chattering students, rolling Tuscan hills just a cobble stone alley away. In that moment, I felt a powerful sense of comfort and a sense of home. This was immediately followed by an overriding feeling of sadness. I lamented for the person I could have been if I had made the decision to study abroad in Siena. I spent the next several days enjoying the medieval hill town while imagining what my life would have been like, who I would have been, if I had said “okay, I’ll do it!” in the Study Abroad Office. I envisioned myself wandering the alleyways to my dorm, scared at first to be alone in such a foreign place. But, as time ticked on, I would have made friends at the University; the streets would have become familiar; my Italian would have gotten better; I would have bought a Vespa, learned to drive it, and zipped all over town; I would have read in the Botanical Gardens near the University; I would have learned the best places to eat; I would have sipped wine in cafes; when I felt lonely I would have found comfort within the walls of the duomo; I would have gone on weekend day trips to the Chianti region; and I would have gone on holiday all over Italy. When my parents, and maybe even my friends, came for a visit they would have been impressed with my knowledge of the town, my rusty Italian, and my ability to drive a Vespa. They would have found a more mature and more confident young woman. My path would have been very different and perhaps I would have “found” a bit more of Kathy. Then again, that was an idealized vision and I very well could have ended up as lost as ever on a path abroad. But, in that moment in del Campo and throughout the next few days in Siena, I was convinced that in that time and place I would have been fabulous and I would have gained a great deal.

When I’m feeling un-me I think back to Siena, the one place on our Italian journey where I felt the most at home and where a romanticized version of Kathy spent a semester (or more). I reminisce about a particular day L and I spent on the terrace of our cute B&B, basking in the Tuscan sun, overlooking the Church of San Domenico with green hills and Cyprus trees in the background, munching on fresh parmesan, sipping on a cold Birra Moretti, and writing in our journals…so “me”.

"me"

2008-05-23T10:49:00.003-05:00

In certain situations recently I’ve been feeling very un-me; uncomfortable in my own skin and out of place. Today I tried to think of a situation, time, and/or place where I felt the most me. I came up with two; Popham Beach, Maine and Siena, Italy.

Popham:

Whenever I go to the little family cottage at Popham I feel at peace. There’s comfort in the unchanging furniture and nick-knacks that serve as reminders of happy summers spent with my grandparents and best friend, V. On an end table sits a lamp full of sea shells all of which I collected on the beach as a little girl with my grandmother. In the corner, a pile of sunglasses accumulated over three decades since my grandparents, Glo and Russ, built the cottage in 1972. In the back bedroom, two twin beds (mine and V’s) where countless hours were spent playing board games on rainy days. In the basement, the bumper pool table where my grandfather first taught me to use a pool cue (he played left handed and now so do I). The exercise bikes my grandparents had since the 70’s which V and I “raced”. And then there are the sounds; there’s nothing more soothing than the distant bellow of the fog horn at night, the crash of the waves against the shore, and the steady rhythm of rain bouncing off of the roof.

When I feel in need of a hug for whatever reason and no one huggable is nearby, I escape in my head to the cottage… It’s a lazy summer day and I’m exploring the beach with my best friend, splashing in a tide pool that’s been warmed by the afternoon sun, we walk the familiar path back to the cottage in the grove to eat microwaveable pizzas that my grandmother has zapped for lunch, we sit on the deck wrapped in towels and watch my grandfather mow the poor excuse for a lawn, I trip over grandpa’s New Balance sneakers which sit near the sliding screen door and are covered in sand from his morning run on the beach.

The little cottage is a time capsule and holds so many warm memories of time spent with family and friends. At Popham, I feel my most “me”.

Siena to follow….

spring is here! almost...

2008-04-14T14:19:00.005-05:00

The first sign that spring is just around the corner: Fat Boy is open for business! In case you are unaware, Fat Boy is a fabulous greasy spoon drive-in near my hometown. It's been around since my parents were kids and the green and yellow awning, red wire food trays, and large weathered wooden signs with phrases like; "lights on for service!" and "Try the BLT with Canadian Bacon", have remained unchanged since at least the 70’s. As a kid, the first trip to Fat Boy in March or April was a sure sign that we had made it through another winter and we could finally count on some warmer weather (after the spring blizzard of course!). My parents and I would pile into the station wagon and head to Fat Boy every spring. We parked under the green awning on the Bath side of the lot (there is a Bath and Brunswick side and when my parents were in high school it was very important that you park on the correct side. We honor this tradition today) and I would crawl into the empty back of the station wagon to sprawl out my coloring book and, once the food arrived, have a little picnic with fried food galore.

There are a handful of people in my life who appreciate the Fat Boy experience as much as I do but there is only one person who truly embraces the opening season feast at the drive-in with the same level of voraciousness. L and I have made it a tradition to share our first Fat Boy feeding of the season together. So we made a special trip up North a bit recently to partake in the annual greasy food fest. It was an experience worth waiting all winter for. Out menu consisted of the following:

Kathy: Cheeseburger loaded, Large French Fry (crinkle cut…yum..), a Pint of Chicken Nuggets with Sweet n’Sour Sauce, ½ of a Grilled Cheese, ½ of a BLT, some of L’s Onion Rings (hand cut, the skinny ones), and a Large Sprite.

L: Cheeseburger Loaded, Hot Dog Loaded, Small French Fry, ½ of a Grilled Cheese, ½ of a BLT, Large Onion Ring, Large Diet Sprite (like the diet really made a difference at that point!)

We consumed every last scrid of food and then kicked ourselves for not getting a Black Raspberry Frappe. The whole meal cost us $23 and it was heavenly. The first crunch of the golden crinkle cut fry, the burn of the first sip of Sprite, the gooey cheese oozing from the buttery crust of the Grilled Cheese. Yum…

a post for the sake of posting

2008-04-04T09:02:00.004-05:00

I have been feeling much uninspired to write/post lately, but feel like I need to! I realized that this desk job has been slowly sucking the personality right out of me. I have become a duller more tarnished version of the vibrant person I like to think of myself to be. Who knows, maybe I just have skewed view of the "old me" and I was really never all that vibrant! Either way, sitting in a cube in front of a computer with little stimulating conversation during the day doesn't get me excited, that's for sure. Plus, the fucking printer isn't working and I really don't feel like dealing with it so I'm patiently waiting until someone else tries to print and finds they can't and then resolves the issue. "PC Loadletter? What the fuck does that mean!" Waiting for someone else to wrestle with it seems like the best course of action at this point because if I spent the next 30 minutes trying to fix the damn printer, I may me driven to drop kick it and then beat it with the nearby hole punch.

*sigh. So here I am; new job, same old thing pretty much, feeling bored, uninspired, discontent, disgruntled, out of place. The million dollar question: when the f am I going to do something about it?! I took this new position as a way to change things up a bit because I was in dire need of some sort of change in scenery and job responsibilities, but this job isn't any more stimulating or interesting than my last job. Am I just not giving it a fair chance? Am I destined to be unhappy and feel unfulfilled in every job I try? I hope not and I'd like to think not. I'm scared to completely change paths, but it may be necessary. I think it's time for a career counselor; or maybe just a straight up therapist.

164

2008-03-13T09:53:00.002-05:00

I just wanted to give myself a little shout-out for bowling a 164 Tuesday night. I've been at the bottom of the Saucy Posse pack in our Tuesday night bowling league (yes, we have shirts and, yes, we have nicknames). I've been bowling a fairly consistent 100, but not able to improve all that much in 8 weeks. This week, I was able to find the correct pitcher of bud light to bowl ratio and bowled myself a 164. Of course, once the second (or was it the third) pitcher was poured and consumed my balance was thrown off and I fell from my peak performance back down to my 100 average in a drunken stupor.

london bound!

2008-03-12T16:28:00.002-05:00

A friend from work, Jen, emailed me at the beginning of the week and said "hey, I'm looking for a travel buddy, any interest in going to london?" I wrote back, "sure, sign me up!" I went to London for 3 days when I was 18 years old on a school sponsored trip (we went to Paris also) and have always wanted to go back to explore the city with a new perspective, an older (and I hope wiser) mentality. So we bought tickets today and we're really flying out May 5th for a week in the UK. I'm nervous and excited! Nervous, because Jen and I are friends, but not great friends. We talk a lot at work and she's in my bookclub so I see her for a drink once a month with several other ladies, but we've never actually spent quality alone time outside of work. Does that mean I shouldn't travel with her? I'd like to think not, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some hesitations. I also have a bit of a sinking feeling in my heart because I'll be leaving the bf to travel abroad and I know I will hate not being able to share every second of my travels with him (or at least, most seconds). He and I will plan another trip, I know, somewhere both of us have never been and somewhere we both can't wait to explore. But I'll miss him on this trip. A girls adventure is always fun and I'm looking forward to getting to know Jen even better.

I can't wait! I've been itching to travel! I'm going to London!

elevator etiquette

2008-02-21T15:25:00.003-05:00

when getting on and riding an elevator there are two things you absolutely DO NOT do:

Number 1: When jumping on the elevator do not bark "9" and expect me to push your floor for you. Am I wearing a fancy jacket, white gloves, and a funny hat? NO! I am not the elevator attendant and I will not accompany you to your floor and tip my hat to you as you exit. I am RIDING the elevator, not working it. If you would like me to push your floor for you please say; "would you mind hitting "9" for me please? Thank you so much!" I will still scoff at you for being lazy and criticize you in some way, but I don't mind helping you out.

Number 2: Do not face the back of the elevator while riding, this is extremely creepy. Even if the elevator is packed like a can of sardines, you enter the lift and then turn your ass around so you face the door as we ride. Facing the wrong direction (the back of the vator being the wrong direction) is awkward for several reasons; 1) heavy breathing in my face (or anyone else's face for that matter) is super intrusive, 2) I am forced to look at my feet, otherwise I must look you in the eye with an uncomfortable silence, 3) I worry that you are a psychopath and at any moment may pull a letter opener from your pocket and drive it into my neck, 4) when you face me, our parts line-up (you know, those "unmentionable" parts) which just isn't sexy in a small space with no escape route (unless you are MI or Brian Williams).

Please, follow proper elevator etiquette at all times.

almost skunked

2008-02-21T14:41:00.004-05:00

This morning on my walk to work I literally almost ran head-on into a skunk. I turned the corner heading down the Eastern Prom and there he was, 3 feet in front of me in the middle of the sidewalk, sniffing away at the concrete trying to seek out some scraps I assume. I stopped dead in my tracks, eyes wide and he stopped dead in his tracks and looked right at me. We both stayed frozen in a face-off for about 20 seconds while we considered our options. I decided to back up slowly and as I took my first step he turned and bolted down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, and up a driveway. I started moving slowly down the side of the street and he scurried from the driveway and back into the sidewalk. He made a move for the street just as a car was coming and I just stared in horror. I think I may have gasped and put my hand to my mouth. For that brief moment I thought of 2 things; 1) If he gets hit by this car I'm sure to get some sort of residual stank all over me, 2) no, little guy, we had a moment back there on that sidewalk and I don't want to see you die! Luckily, the quickest path for mr. skunk was directly in front of me and he thought better of running towards me. I was dressed in black and white from head to toe; black dress pants, gray sneakers, long black winter dress coat, black mittens, black cap, and a stripe of white scarf peaking from my coat around my neck. To him, I probably looked like some sort of mutated giant skunk, so he decided to head back up the driveway from which he came. Phew! close call!

a little something from bill....

2008-02-14T13:59:00.009-05:00

Was this inspiration for litany?.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

(Sonnet 130)

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

-William Shakespeare

cinemagic grand

2008-01-31T11:28:00.000-05:00

We have a new theater in town; the cinemagic grand complete with a grand piano, a bar stocked with local brew taps & wine, and bistro style snacks. Cinema with a yuppie appeal. Cinemagic management is spinning the theater as a refuge for the "over-45" demographic. I think I would like the idea of this theater better under different circumstance; i.e. instead of this story: "big zyacorp opens yuppie cinema by the mall for over-45's", if the story was more like; "small local business owner opens a new cinema in the heart of historic downtown, styled after the cinemas of old but with a fresh new twist for all ages to enjoy (well, 25 to 70 year olds)." yes, that would get me excited. I like the idea of local brews; I won't have to sneak my flask into the theater anymore. But is a baby grand piano really necessary? Of course, I'll check it out and probably love it. It's like the Whole Foods of cinema. I will reserve final judgement until I have tasted the wine and walnut chicken salad sandwhich and viewed the latest indie film sans dreaded teenagers in the audience.

Governor Robie

2008-01-28T17:05:00.000-05:00

Apparently, my maternal great great grandfather was Governor of this little state of ours. My maternal grandfather was Frederick Robie, Jr. His grandfather was Frederick Robie, Sr. He was governor for two terms in the late 1800's. MI walks by a huge portrait of him nearly every day at our statehouse. He even has a dormitory at the state university named after him, Robie Hall, just down the road a piece from where I now live.

I'm only telling you this now because I just happened upon the information myself. I was recently at my parents house for dinner to celebrate my 27th birthday and my mother nonchalantly said to bf, "my great grandfather was governor." I was immediately confused. "what? How did I not know this?" My mother gave an unsatisfactory answer, "well I didn't really know until a couple of years ago."

More to come on this...

2007 in review

2008-01-22T15:48:00.000-05:00

2007 started off with lowlights:

Grandpa H. passed away in January. I really miss him.

But let’s quickly move to 2007 highlights…

The bf and I spent a winter night in Boston and attended the wine expo. Super fun.
I had a birthday and a fabulous surprise gathering at my bf’s apartment (which now happens to be ‘our’ apartment!)
Season opener at Fat Boy (drive-in diner near home town). I consumed a cheese burger with everything, crinkle cut fries, hand battered onion rings (the small stringy rings of goodness – not the jumbo gobs of grease), a pint of chicken fingers, a BLT, and a black raspberry frappe. Yes, I ate it all and yes, I felt sick afterwards. But it was oh so worth it.
Flew to LA to visit aunt, uncle, and cousin and then flew to San Fran to visit Jorge and sip vino in Sonoma.
Welcomed my old friend, nomad, home from her nearly year long travels around the world with a BBQ and b-day bash in her honor.
4th of July lobster dinner
The bf and I spent a hot July week at my favorite spot, the family cottage. I sat on the beach, read, and ate; it was fabulous. The week of vacation was topped off with a weekend trip to Middlebury, Vermont. A night spent in a tent by a babbling brook (it was peaceful but the temp really drops at night out there in the wilderness. I slept with the nylon tent cover wrapped around me!), a trip to the bf’s favorite old haunt, and a fun b&b in Middlebury.
Received a promotion at work.
Saw the musical “Hairspray” performed by the state music theater. It was fantastic!
Spent a peaceful September weekend at a gorgeous island off the coast. Hiked, ate, napped, took in some art.
Attended an odd Ryan Adams concert. He played three songs, complained about the sound, walked off stage, fixed the sound, came back on stage and re-played the same three songs we just heard, played 6 more songs, threw his mic on the floor and walked off the stage. He sounded great, but acted like a total jackass.
Spent a fun Columbus weekend in NYC and swung by bf’s old campus on the ride home.
The Red Sox won the World Series. You better believe it, mister.
Bought my first brand new car! Mazda 3. zoom zoom.
Learned how to knit.
Saw one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen. Josh Ritter.
Attended my 3rd annual Brew Fest. (It was the 10th for bf so I made shirts).
Flew to Austin, TX to visit friends to celebrate the New Year.
Moved in with bf :) (technically, this is a 2008 event, but things were slowly moved during Dec. of 2007).
Attended 4 weddings (2 were held 5 hours north, 1 nearby, 1 spontaneous Wednesday wedding with 10 guests)
Spent 3 separate holiday weekends upta camp.
I was able to work-in many nights on the couch with the roomies watching great television (the hills, project runway, america's next top model, etc.) and drinking wine.

and there were some midlights:

Bf and I attended the infamous dinner at Ness and Drew’s which forced us both to head to work still drunk the next morning and in clothes that were not ours. Dinner was great, but the next day; not so much.
Was assigned to new “manager girl” at work. Craptastic. It isn't ideal, but could be worse.
My car "shit the bed" so to speak and would have cost me $2,500 to get it fixed. I bought my first brand new car instead.
Took the GMAT . Ouch.
The bf spent two weeks in Spain and Portugal. Fabulous for him, but I missed him terribly
Worked in the Paddy Wagon at the folk festival. Hanging with the bf's fam was great and the music was pretty good. But, I ate something fried every half hour and gained 10 lbs. It was gross.
Had to say arrivederci to lam twice and spend a total of three lonely months without her as she headed off for Italian adventures. A great experience for her, but she forgot to take me and her lack of presence was felt!
Took my first MBA course, Probability & Stats. Brutal, but managed to score myself an “A”. Tight.

In summary, 2007 held many highlights, some midlights, and one glaring lowlight. what shall 2008 bring.....

wicked cold

2008-01-22T10:56:00.000-05:00

"Winter is not a season, it's an occupation."
- Sinclair Lewis

global warming?

2008-01-08T12:48:00.001-05:00

So, last week when bf and I flew in from Austin at 2am it was a dark, icy, and a whole 4 degrees with cutting wind. Today, not even a week later, it's in the 60's. It is January, right? Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining; I couldn't be happier. It is quite a treat to be able to walk outside without a winter coat, scarf, mittens, and hat in the middle of January. And to feel the sun on my face in the dead of winter is not only fantastic but, I'm realizing, necessary. My general disgruntlement has temporarily subsided and I'm in a great mood today. Partly because I bought my first big piece of furniture last night at a local home store (green striped arm chair) and I am still giddy over my first "big girl" purchase, but mostly because the bitter cold is on hiatus and the sun is finally shining.

I think it may be time to consider a move to a warmer climate. New Zealand comes to mind.

what happened to December?

2007-12-20T14:05:00.000-05:00

December is typically a busy month for most and I inevitably find myself a ball of stress around the holidays. This December is no exception and as Christmas and New Year's draws near, I find myself wondering how I let this month slip by me, once again. I do feel pretty good about the fact that I have my Christmas shopping and wrapping done and I feel even better about that fact that I didn't have to set foot in the mall this season. And I did successfully complete my first Graduate level business course and managed to pull an 'A' which feels like quite the accomplishment (juggling work, school, and a social life was a challenge). However, the other 50 things I had planned to do this month have somehow fallen to the wayside. I've stumbled through this December, worrying about all of the things I need to get done before the New Year and, in true fashion, I've put a majority of those things off (I was supposed to be packed and partially moved at this point - the bf and I are moving-in together!). The self prescribed remedy for this December stress has been wine and carbs. Yes, the crash diet has officially exited the building and I am back on a healthy holiday diet of food, food, more food, and wine.

There is a lack of sunlight and vitamin D in my life as the days become sickeningly short and this fact, in combination with the aforementioned running around, the mostly self-induced stress, and my incredibly mind-numbing job, has apparently sucked the life right out of me. It has been brought to my attention that lately I have been a disgruntled, monotone, unfunny person. In looking back, it is true that my overall demeanor this late fall and winter has been reminiscent of someone with dangerously low serotonin levels. I'm working on it. I find when I smile and laugh, I like myself a lot better. I'm looking forward to a much needed getaway to Austin for the New Year and some quality time with some truly fabulous people (including the bf). Cheers to increasing those serotonin levels - whether naturally or artificially.

how many 5-year olds can you take-on?

2007-12-19T13:53:00.000-05:00

This is totally wrong and hilarious. Apparently I'm good for 17 kindergartners.

mmmmm....scotch

2007-11-29T15:40:00.000-05:00

I did end up hitting the gym last night and my reward for my motivation was a nice dram of Macallan 12-year served neat with a side of rocks. Each sip was delicious.

Which reminds me; several months ago I was at a local Irish pub enjoying a sampling of scotch. I drained the last of my Auchentoshan and headed up to the bar for a dram of the ole standby. I caught the bartender's eye, "Macallan 12-year neat, please." He poured the caramel colored goodness and I handed him my credit card. There was a random guy in his mid 20's sitting on the stool next to me and he eyed my drink and then looked back at me. "Is that whisky for you?" he asked me. "well yeah, scotch." I corrected him. He gave me an approving nod, "wow, that's hot."

You better believe it mister. Totally hot. and my bf thinks so too.

day 3 - oops

2007-11-28T14:03:00.001-05:00

Okay, so the boot camp diet has turned into more of a summer camp than a boot camp. Last night I not only splurged with some chicken smothered in Parmesan cheese, but I broke into the bottle of pinot noir! The bf and I decided to have just one glass, which we did successfully. Nice to know I can go one night without a nightcap! And now, thanks to the Washington Post article MI sent on winter drinks, I'm salivating over the thought of a dram of Macallan (18 year maybe!) neat with a side of rocks. Scotch. Scotch is definitely my winter drink. And red wine. And coffee with a shot of something naughty like Baily's or Jameson.

Anyhoo, I'm still watching what I put into my mouth which was the whole point anyway, right? Gym tonight. I'm serious this time.

Day 2

2007-11-27T13:05:00.001-05:00

Last night it was chicken with broccoli and red pepper and a bit of cottage cheese. It wasn't bad, but I was hungry about an hour later and really wanted to break into my bottle of pinot noir after a long day at work and 3 hour stats class. Instead I settled for water and a healthy dose of Dancing With the Stars. That Mel B can really dance and it was great to see the Spice Girls back together.

For breakfast I tried the chocolate Atkins shake which left me unsatisfied so I followed it up with some honey roasted peanuts. I just finished lunch which consisted of leftover chicken with broccoli and red peppers. Not bad, but I salivated over the jambalaya Yimmy was eating across from me and the angel hair pasta my other co-worker was scarfing down. I'm now bored so I'd like to eat, which I realize I do quite often - roam the halls when I'm bored to find something to eat. At least I'm learning my bad habits.

I plan to swing by the gym tonight and re-up my membership. Forcing myself into healthier routines; what a pain in the ass.

diary of a diet

2007-11-26T12:38:00.000-05:00

So I decided to do this pretty hardcore two week diet with the bf. I don't think I necessarily need to throw myself into a crash diet, but I thought it would be a good way to start watching what I eat (or what little I will now eat) and start working out again. To be honest I have never, not once, ever been on a diet. I love food too much. I was working out pretty consistently for a while and eating healthier foods, but that sort of flew out the window somewhere between summer and holidays.

The gist of the next two weeks: starve ourselves, cut out all coffee and alcohol, and engage in an unreasonable amount of exercise for two weeks straight. We'll see if I/we last the full two weeks. We don't plan to be overly 'nazi' about it, but the main idea is cut out all carbs (my day revolves around carbs normally), eat smaller portions, and work-out everyday. Oh yeah, and abstain from alcohol consumption. Like I said, we're not going to take it TOO seriously. After the two weeks I'm hoping to be on a semi-consistent gym routine that will continue through the winter. I have a feeling the food consumption will fall back to historical high levels. I'm okay with that and just hope to adopt a couple of healthier habits, like a handful of peanuts for an afternoon snack instead of a Milky Way bar. I've been on a chocolate binge for the last 6 months or so. Probably not the healthiest diet, but it's damn tasty!

Day 1

The two week boot-camp started today and I plan to post updates on how its going, if only to urge me to stay the course (I couldn't hate that expression more....). The morning started with a lowcarb balance bar that tasted like chalk (I longed for a bagel with veggie cream cheese, my usual go to) and then lunch consisted of leftover dry turkey and a small lump of squash. I am now still hungry and hope to hold out for another hour for some nuts or something. Still not sure what will be on the menu for dinner. I'm hoping to hit the gym after work, but I do have my class this evening so I may have to start the exercise piece tomorrow. Uh oh, I'm already making excuses to avoid the gym.

I really, really want a Milky Way. I'd settle for a Kit Kat. Shoot, this is going to be a challenge, but I'm up for it!

in the spirit of quizzes - I Love New York!

2007-10-26T14:12:00.000-05:00

In doing research for my Halloween costume (the bf wants to be Flava Flav which would make me either Brigitte Nielsen or New York) I discovered this gem. So which New York are you?

What Donut Are You?

2007-10-26T13:22:00.000-05:00

I stumbled upon this little quiz. Weird. My favorite question is: "If you were a donut, what would you be filled with?" Hmmmm......

This morning for breakfast I housed a bacon, egg & cheese on sourdough toast and then immediately washed it down with a large chocolate donut coated in sugar. I feel uncomfortable now.

vent

2007-10-25T10:28:00.001-05:00

This place reminds me so much of the movie Office Space and/or the series The Office; only this office is not funny. I have been working my ass off lately. Recently, I put in about 40 hours in 4 days and came in to the office on a precious Sunday to finish something up. I don't get paid enough to put in these man hours. I work hard and am told "it is noticed". I had my semi-annual review yesterday (so Office Space-y; "I see you've been missing a lot of work lately", "well, I wouldn't say I've been 'missing it' Bob.") and it was glowing. My managers were all like "keep up the good work, we love having you here, we appreciate your hard work." It felt great to hear those things, but those positive feelings were sacked about 20 minites ago during our monthly staff meeting.

Every time we have our staff meeting I sit in the conference room with my 9 co-workers and three managers and a feeling of disgruntlement takes over. We sit and listen to my "big boss" for about 10 minutes go over some inconsequential shit, we communicate about nothing, and then we take a stupid quiz and the winner is awarded a $5 gift card to Dunkin Donuts. Awesome. Each meeting reminds me how unimportant this job ultimately is. We're not helping people here, we're not "making a difference", and it also reminds me how overly serious some of these people treat it. This isn't life or death people, there are other more important issues out there, let's keep it in perspective.

So today was an especially annoying meeting as it was "quarterly award day". At the end of each quarter, two or three lucky employees are awarded a $50 visa gift card for their hard work and effort over the past quarter. Even though I feel as though I work very hard and try to take-on some extra projects or training, I haven't received a quarterly award since July 2006 (not that I'm keeping track). In July of this year, I thought my mangement finally made a good move and we were all going to receive a gift card for the hardwork we had been putting in. Several co-workers had left the department in the spring, and the rest of us were carrying their weight and were on the brink of burned-out. There was a general air of discontent around the office. But when we walked into our staff meeting in July, I noticed a large stack of visa gift cards and thought "oh good, to boost morale and recognize all of our efforts they're going to give us each a gift card - equal footing, great idea." But instead, they pulled one of the stupidest managerial moves I've ever been a witness to. My "big boss" awarded $75 gift cards to 6 of my co-workers. He singled out each one and said some positive remarks about each person and then handed them their award. He then said "and we appreciate the rest of you too" and handed the remaining three of us $25 gift cards. We were humilated. I felt awful. Not only was I not a good enough employee to receive $75 like the majority of my department, but I also wasn't good enough to have some positve remarks said about me in front of my peers (which was incredibly confusing considering that I had been the only one of my coworkers recently promoted to 'officer' level). It was interesting that the three of us who received the $25 were on the new manager's team and we each felt equally bitter about it.

But alas, time passed and I continued to work hard and I continued to get positive feedback from my superiors. And then today I was certain I was going to finally receive my much deserved quarterly award, especially considering the overtime I have recently put in and the verbal recognition I have been getting. But of course, you know how the story ends, I was once again overlooked and I am once again bitter. I do not mean to begrudge my fellow analysts who received awards, they were much deserved and I am especially glad that my buddy, James, finally landed one (much overdue), but I feel as though I also put in a lot of effort here and I'd like to be recognized in front of my peers. I'm sure you few readers are shocked by my lack of public recognition given my glowing positive attitude:). This is me whining, I needed to vent. This episode of The Office really sucks.

stop this train, I want to read Jane Austen (or any other classic)

2007-10-16T09:17:00.000-05:00

At the end of August I decided to take a graduate level business course as a kind of experiment to see if I actually want to pursue my MBA. My undergraduate degree is in English so there are a few prerequisite courses I need to complete. I decided to jump right in with Probability and Stats MBA 504. My thinking was, get the hardest class out of the way first and take it from there. Looking back, I may have wanted to do a little pro and con list before ultimately deciding on this course. It is challenging but I like a bit of a challenge. The real obstacle is trying to balance a full-time job, in which I have recently been given a lot of responsibility and complicated projects, with a demanding course while still finding time for a social life. I’m finding it difficult, but not impossible. Unfortunately I haven’t slowed down enough to analyze whether or not the MBA track is what I want. For some reason I keep putting that decision off. But it is interesting to be back in the world of academia after a four year hiatus and I find myself daydreaming at times during stats of my past life as an English major with a concentration in creative writing. Last night during class I started lamenting on the Bronte sisters, Hemingway, Gilman and her Yellow Wallpaper, my old friend The Grapes of Wrath, even Gibbon and the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire!

Literature and writing have always been a part of my life. In college, I was immersed in the world of novels, criticism and writing. I was the only English major in my group of friends which seemed fitting as a writer and thoughtful analyst of literature – independent, lonely, no good friend to share in the common experience. There was something romantic about that, or at least, looking back it seems romantic in a way. Some of my favorite authors and writers were absolute loners and I explored their world with a similar sense of introspection. It is strange to look back and picture myself as that English student, discussing literature, writing short stories, and accepting feedback and constructive criticism on my own writing (I was never very good at the short stories, but I enjoyed the process - until I got a case of writer's block my senior year!). That experience seems so distant and disjointed from how I currently spend my days. Today it is all numbers and analysis and no romance (at least as far as the writing, I do get the romance in other parts of my life). It is so interesting to me that I feel both intrinsically tied to that English student version of myself, and vastly unconnected. Innately I am the reader, the writer, the discusser. It is there. But lately I feel as though I am traveling away from it, building up layers between the English student I was and the nine to fiver I have become. Maybe that is why I am so hesitant to take the MBA plunge, because I will be choosing to put more distance between who I am and what I do. Finding the balance is key here, where the hell is it?

Clarification

2007-10-03T12:23:00.000-05:00

I was told by my one loyal reader and dear friend, Nomad (technically she is no longer a nomad; details to come later), that in my last post regarding pantyhose I made it sounds as though I had gained an uber amount of weight and now was the size of a corn-fed heifer. She pointed out to me that this, in fact, is not true. She’s right. I definitely don’t consider myself overweight and my intention by complaining about my tight pantyhose was not to imply that I am now rocking 30 extra pounds. However, over the past six months I have spent less (and by “less” I really mean “no”) time at the gym and have allowed myself to eat whatever my little heart desires, including annie’s mac n’cheese with cheddarwurst at 11:30 in the p.m. As a result, my clothes have become a bit snug and things definitely fit differently. Still the same size, but a little more uncomfortable. Just needed to clear that up; thanks Nomad.

F'ing Pantyhose

2007-09-27T08:23:00.000-05:00

Pantyhose have become the bane of my existence. I’ve always thought that the man who invented pantyhose (yes, it had to be a man) should suffer some sort of repercussion for inviting the dreaded hose into our homes and our workplaces. From this incredibly analytical entry in Wikipedia it seems Alan Gant of North Carolina is credited with introducing pantyhose to the world in 1959. Thanks, Alan!* I think a fitting punishment for Alan would be to force him to wear pantyhose every single day through eternity. But not just wear them, he has to put them on every morning and take them off every night. We all know how satisfying it is to peel off the pantyhose at the end of a long day; but we are also aware of how excruciating it is to squeeze into them again the next morning.

For me, it has been especially brutal lately as I have gained a few pounds over the past several months, but not enough to require the next size up. So I find myself stuffing my sausage thighs into the same size “casing” I was squeezing into three months ago when I was 10 pound lighter. Inevitably, I spend at least $5.00 on a new pair of sheer energy only to put my nail through the knee or thigh as I hike them up for the first wear, causing a nasty run. Sometimes I just sport the run anyway. My thinking is, the corporate assholes I work for are forcing me to wear these everyday so unless they want to purchase me a months supply, I’ll wear the runny hose once and corporate big brother will deal with it.

This morning, I managed to get into the pantyhose without causing a run; however, somehow I didn’t evenly distribute each hoisery leg as I carefully rolled them over my skin and when I pulled them up over my round booty, the seams were all wrong. The back seam ran across my bulbous right butt cheek and there was some pulling and stretching in the front inner thigh area that just wasn’t good. I tried to re-adjust, but had to run out the door and decided to address the problem at work. I just came back from the ladies room where I unrolled my sheer energy “casing” and tried to re-roll and pull and shift and it helped but didn’t fix the issue. Still, as I walk there is some pulling. After lunch it will be worse, it always is. The elastic waist of the pantyhose will cut into my stomach causing discomfort and repulsive rolls of belly. As usual, I will try to pull them up to my chest, but they will roll down. It is a vicious cycle. Again, thank you Alan.

*Apparently, there is some controversy as to the original inventor of pantyhose and a recent obituary credits the invention to a Danish woman, Inger Nyborg Christensen Savoth. However, several sources credit Alan Gant and I’d like to believe a woman wouldn’t subject her “sisters” to such cruelty.

The Beginning of a New Beginning

2007-08-06T13:24:00.000-05:00

My great grandfather left his home at the base of the Abruzzo Valley in Southern Italy in 1919. His possessions when he boarded the Sargasso for Ellis Island, New York consisted of the clothes on his back and 7 cents in his pocket. He left everything familiar to him, including his young pregnant wife and 1-year old son, to voyage to America in hopes of making a better living and a better future for his young family. I imagine his last days in Italy were spent in reflection. I picture him sitting on a bench outside the community church having a last cigar with his pizzanos.

we put the "fun" in dysfunctional

2007-07-16T14:17:00.000-05:00

My family is small but each time my aunt, uncle and cousin come to town chaos ensues. We’re small in number, but big in personality. Steady streams of alcohol and food fuels commotion and results in pandemonium. This past weekend was no exception. Lobster up to our ears and shots of tequila led to a political rant from Dad at an incredibly loud volume (it seems as though Dad only cares about politics after one too many rum & cokes) and typical kooky antics from my aunt who (in typical style) hit on my bf and talked incessantly about growing up in LA in the 60’s. As always, it was over the top but tons of fun and my 14 year old cousin ended up the best behaved of the lot.

Also this weekend we finally put Gramps to rest. His ashes had been residing at my parent’s house since January and my grandmother decided it was time to do something with him. It was an impromptu decision and, in true fashion, the whole burying of the ashes was a debacle. There was confusion about whether we were spreading the ashes or burying them. “I thought we were tossing his ashes by the horseshoe pit?” I asked my mother. “No, not anymore; you’re grandmother found out it was illegal to spread ashes so now she wants to put him in this ceramic cat and bury him in front of the porch.” My mother held up a small hollow blue and white cat figurine. Weird. “It’s like Chang,” said my grandmother referring to their old family Siamese cat. My Mom and Aunt brought the plastic box into the kitchen, cut open the plastic bag inside and proceeded to scoop out pieces of my grandfather and put him in the hollow cat. Of course, the opening was too small so Gramps spilled onto the counter and floor. “I wish I had known Grammy wanted to do this ahead of time; I would have brought a funnel,” said Mom. Right, I can’t believe we weren’t smart enough to remember a funnel for the burial!! We got some of Gramps in the cat and sealed it with the plastic heart and packaging tape my grandmother had provided. This was primarily closure for Grammy, so we followed her rules. The whole episode was absurd and peppered with morbidly comical comments regarding my Uncle D who has also been residing in our basement since his demise in October, but Mom has no idea what to do with his ashes (that’s an entry for another time).

So the weekend was a frenzied family-filled success and I’m glad Gramps was there for a bit to look down and laugh at all of us as we stumbled through. The unconditional love and lessons I gained from my grandfather are invaluable. I’ve never met such a lover of people and life. My Uncle said it best, “the true measure of a person is if you can say your life was made better by that person’s presence.” I can honestly say that my life is more fulfilled because my grandfather was a part of it.

Case of the Mondays

2007-06-25T13:02:00.000-05:00

I hate my job. What do I do about it? I find myself a disgruntled and bitter woman while sitting in front of my computer surrounded by three drab felt walls. Every day feels like Monday. The only relief is an occasional conversation with my cube-mate, which provides enough human contact and scintillating conversation to keep me from walking out of the building and never returning. I try to wrap my mind around other options. I ask myself questions like, “What do I really want to be doing for work? What would make me happy? Where would I be excited to go every morning?” I can’t seem to come up with an answer. And so I wake each morning reluctant to face the day. This is a problem that will need to be addressed very shortly, but I need some help in figuring it out; some support in making scary decisions. My biggest support, my voice of reason and one of the few people able to pull me from a grumpy mood or bad attitude is not here at the moment, but will be returning tomorrow so I have that to look forward to.

For now, I concentrate on the positives and put off the career decision. My personal life is fabulous (which I am ever more thankful for now as some of my closest friends struggle through hard times and I am able to offer support), my living situation is looking up and I am finally at ease with “home”. Things, for the most part, are good; but what about this nagging anxiety about work? Friday rolls around each week and I feel jubilant that the weekend has finally rolled around, except I immediately feel a pit in my stomach because Monday looms in the background. This place has the ability to suck the charisma from a vibrant personality and deaden the hopes of a lifelong optimist. Yes, I have been referred to as a drama queen. I embrace it wholeheartedly. It's part of my charm.

Fortune

2007-06-05T12:17:00.001-05:00

I don't typically surround myself with inspirational quotes and I rarely put much stock in a message delivered in a horoscope or fortune. I am, for the most part, a sarcastic and cynical individual. However, I do carry two fortunes with me at all times (by fortunes I mean the strips of paper pulled from the belly of a fortune cookie at a Chinese restaurant). One reads, "You are demonstrative with the ones you love." I held onto this one for two reasons: 1) Truer words couldn't be written, 2) I love the way the word "demonstrative" rolls off my tongue.

The other fortune reads, "Stop searching forever, happiness is just next to you." When I happened upon this message in late August, it was a wake-up call and it was the first time that I actually believed the fortune gods were speaking directly to me. Of course, this message could be interpreted broadly as it was designed to be; but I assumed a more literal meaning. At the time, I had been "hanging out with" a new boy, a friend's brother, for a few months. We had been on a couple of dates, exchanged numerous emails and chatted frequently on the phone. We could talk or not talk for hours and my heart skipped a beat every time he entered a room, but I couldn't figure out where we stood. For a week straight towards the end of August we helped his brother and sister-in-law (my good friends) paint the interior of their new home. During that week I over analyzed our situation to a nauseating degree. "Is this going somewhere?" I thought. "Is he into me? Should I take a chance? What if it doesn't work out?" All of these questions were cycling through my mind.

On our last evening of painting we ordered Chinese take-out and as I sat next to my new quasi love interest I cracked open my fortune cookie and read "Stop searching forever, happiness is just next to you." I glanced next to me and he smiled. I decided to chill out and let things happen. If it was meant to be, it would fall into place. I took a deep breath and went along for the ride....

The Dark and the Fair

2007-06-04T12:36:00.000-05:00

"We learn, as the thread plays out, that we belong
Less to what flatters us than to what scars."

This line in the Stanley Kunitz poem, The Dark and the Fair, struck me. It seems to be true that our trials and tribulations drive us and in some instances define us.

One Year Ago Today

2007-05-18T07:31:00.000-05:00

What was I doing a year ago today? This question arises from time to time; sometimes I need a good dose of reflection. So I take out my trusty calendar and flip back a year. A year ago today I was strolling along the canals in Venice. My roommate and I had just arrived in Italy for the start of our three week self guided tour. That first day was spent weaving through cobblestone alleys in wide-eyed amazement. We sampled gelato, sipped lemon granitas, and snapped pictures. At dusk, we found a cute little table for two next to the grand canal and settled in for an evening filled with cheese, wine, and our first quintessential Italian meal.

In stark contrast is three days earlier while still in America. The entry in my calendar for May 13th, 2006 reads "beer night". It was the weekend and we were all at a local dive bar rocking-out hard to some classic 80’s music. One of my best guy friends was “rubbing up on me” in a borderline inappropriate way and three feet away the object of my affection was making out with some chick on the dance floor. Everyone’s favorite Def Leppard song came over the speakers (you know the one, “I’m hot, sticky sweet from my head to my feet, yeah!”) and I pulled out some of my classic dance moves centered around the hair flip and hip thrust. I mean, this was quality stuff I was throwing out there.

Suddenly, in the middle of this chaos that was a mass of bodies gyrating on the dance floor in stripper style, I realized my hair was soaked. Apparently, some guy decided it would be a good idea to dump his entire bottle of Budweiser over my head. I’ve gotta say, we weren't on the same page. I disagreed with him that it was a good idea. He literally managed to empty his entire beer over my head. The weirdest part was, no one did or said anything. My friends (four of my best guy friends included) all just kind of stared in bewilderment for a second and then decided it was time for another drink and headed over to the bar. I walked up to the guy with full v&t in hand and had every intention of throwing it in his face. But as I stood there, hair soaked and dripping onto my shirt, I decided against drawing further attention to myself. I walked, head down in embarrassment, up to the bar next to my so called buddies and gave them a kind of - where were you guys when I needed you? – look. I headed outside where I proceeded to ring sweaty beer from hair (my word! This guy’s beer glass must have been completely full) and walked home, a broken woman.

The next day I called each one of my boys and berated them for standing by and acting as if a beer over the head was a normal course of action. “Guys, come on! I didn’t expect you to fight the guy or anything, but couldn’t you have at least said something? For instance 'Dude, not so cool' or 'Whoa, ease up buddy! This isn’t a music video' or perhaps 'Seriously? Couldn’t you have just bought her a drink instead of dousing her with one?' The least someone could have done was stop the guy mid-pour to mitigate the “drowned rat” look I ended up sporting. Each friend's response to my questioning was the same: “I’m so sorry, I should have done/said something. I guess I was just drunk and it was all so weird. I just wasn’t sure how to react.” An honest a valid response. It was most definitely weird. Water under the bridge and three days later I was sipping chianti and nibbling on fresh prosciutto in Venezia. Life is good.

Cube Stress

2007-05-15T10:30:00.000-05:00

It amazes me how disgruntled printer toner can make me. I’m so busy and my mind is so jam-packed, it is difficult to get anything done at all. I’ve got a million and one things on my plate but seem to find myself staring off into space, humming that annoying Black Eyed Peas song, “Ladadidadadada on the radiadiadiadio, ladadidadadada, oh let it go let it go let it go. Pump it! – LOUDER! – pump it! –LOUDER!” I’ll pump it alright -pump it right into a stress induced resignation. I’m not even sure if those are the actual words to the song but there it goes, the beat of this catchy pop song is reverberating in the back of my mind and driving my annoyance to colossal levels.

Overworked and underpaid - the story of every cubicle dweller’s life. So I’m working on a thousand and twenty three things at once and actually come to something that resembles completion for at least one project (only one thousand and twenty two left to go). I attempt to print my masterpiece and can barely make out the text due to some printer toner issue. Like I have time to deal with this or like I would even know how to fix the problem if I did have time. I’m sure the solution involves some sort of trip to the supply room and replacement of toner, but that just seems way too difficult. “Ladadidadadada on the radiadiadiadio”. Will it ever stop!

Another co-worker just caught on to the whole toner problem. “Oh, looks like the toner’s out again,” she said. Well no shit. She’s in the process of taking care of it which just irritates me more because I can no longer feel bitter and let down by the printer/toner. No worries, I’m sure I’ll find another focus for my disgruntlement by the end of the day.

Dreaming of Faraway Places

2007-04-26T14:37:00.000-05:00

I have the biggest itch to travel. Nomad - the description of your Thai hideaway on a small island with no motors and beach front bungalow, makes me melt. Any place that takes a full 24 hours of bargaining, riding, and boating to reach, has to be paradise. Everyone around me is soon to be headed on a European getaway (the roommate is headed back to my favorite country, Italy, no less) and I couldn't want to get away more. I'm coming up on the year anniversary of the most fantastic adventure I have been on to date (I know it doesn't compare to yours, world traveler) and am now ready for more adventures. I know they will come, I just need to be patient. Feeling sorry for myself for not being able to travel to Europe for the third year in a row. Have you ever heard of anything more absurd?

The Source of "Things"

2007-04-24T12:12:00.000-05:00

I wonder how many deaths I am responsible for. After recently viewing Planet Earth and then Blood Diamond, it is painfully evident that we are not disconnected from the source of our “things” or valuables. Human hands in a distant country sewed this very shirt I’m wearing. The reality that my “things” come from somewhere, independent of the store in which I purchased them, is ever present in my subconscious but is not something I give much deliberation each time I purchase an item of clothing or “thing” to add to my collection of “things”. Perhaps it warrants consideration. Maybe I should be giving it a bit more thought. If I had known that the teak wind chimes I purchased last summer were ultimately responsible for the death of an animal in a depleting Indonesian forest, would I have bought them? I’d like to think not. Is the small sparkly gem sitting on my right index finger the product of bloodshed? That 2 carat diamond solitaire in a platinum setting that I have always dreamed of seems oh so unglamorous today.

A Home

2007-04-16T11:40:00.000-05:00

My home will have: a sewing room and a project of some sort always underway; delicious smells wafting from the kitchen - freshly baked bread, family ragu, things sauteing and baking and roasting; NPR in the background; framed photographs lining the walls, snapshots captured by my camera and my eye of the places I’ve been and the people I care about; interesting fine art with beautiful colors; open spaces and warm rugs; some funk - in a good way; laughter and smiles and kisses on the forehead; a chair near a window that cradles me as I read a great book with knees tucked under myself covered by a warm chenille blanket.

Monumental in the Mundane

2007-04-11T07:24:00.000-05:00

I watched "Stranger than Fiction" last night. I had no expectations going in and ended up loving it. I laughed, I cried. The story was so unique. One of the themes was that a mundane hicup or event in one's daily grind can actually lead to monumental changes in the course of one's life. It got me thinking, if we could recoginize the monumental in the day-to-day doldrums would we be happier? This reminds me of "Our Town" by Thorton Wilder and specifically this quote: "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?"

Nomad with a Destination

2007-04-10T19:00:00.000-05:00

I should have done this a long time ago. Why is love so complicated? On the surface, it seems like it should be so easy. You think that it will be enough and then your world is turned upside down - while on the other side of the world from home no less. My thoughts are with Nomad. Hang in there. I read this Walt Whitman poem. Is it describing the fleeting momentary kind of love or the forever kind and is there a difference?