the Perfect Present

My father has never been one to give extravagant gifts. To some, this might sound unfortunate, but it actually works out rather well for him, as my mother has never been one to receive them very gracefully. So it was pretty surprising when, last Christmas, after 27 years of marriage, Dad produced an expensive gift which he had picked out himself. It was a ring that he thought was "pretty cool," and visited the jeweler several times to admire before he actually bought it. It went over well.

This year, perhaps bolstered by the success of last year's gift, Dad is at it again. Only this time, he doesn't want to be bothered to go shopping. So he's enlisted the help of my sister, Alex. The following is a text message conversation between us. I'll admit, after the first message from Aal, I was mildly horrified and worried that the gift he was sending her out for was something from Victoria's Secret...ew. Imagine my relief when she revealed what he actually had in mind.


Aal: Dad said sucha bro thing to me the other day. He told me he knows what he wants to get mom, but I have to go to the store and get it. he also said he has no idea how much it costs, maybe $20, maybe $200. I asked why I had to go get it, and he just said "you know I don't go shopping"

Me: oohhhhhhh my god

where do you need to go?

/do YOU know what it is?

Aal: yes it's a foot massager from bed bath and beyond

Hahahaha

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I am dying

Aal: Haha. I know!


For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of meeting my parents, I'll tell you that my mother often asks for foot massages from my father, only to end up frustrated and telling him "THAT HURTS!!" I guess Dad is hoping that a little gadget like this might get him off the hook. I sure hope he's right.

I cannot WAIT to see that foot massager under the tree. You go, Dad!

it's the most brain-dead time of the year.

Okay.


So, I have graduate finals this week AND next week, there are both stomach AND throat viruses abound at school, and I have fallen behind in my handmade holiday/general housekeeping. Basically, my house and my brain both look like a bomb has gone off. And then a meteor has crashed into the exact same site. At least there are Christmas songs (like THIS one, my very fave) to keep me entertained while I try and get my stockings in a row.

That, and this photo of Colin Firth in a Christmas sweater.




Never gets old.

Essay-In-Progress. Sorry Folks!

When I was in my first semester of graduate school, I completed an observation at a local Montessori school. The school's director, who remains to this day, one of the nicest and most genuine people I have come across as a graduate observer, took me into her office and provided me with an opportunity to ask questions about Montessori eduction. “you know,” she told me as she handed me a few copies of Tomorrow's Child, a Montessori publication, “the philosophy of Montessori is that we do not teach. The children LEARN.”

Well, being a very naive and inexperienced teacher, I found this pretty insulting. How could any self-respecting reacher, particularly one who had sought their master's, as I was, take a position in a school which did not RESPECT their profession. The very idea! Teachers don't teach. PLEASE.

It is now six months later. Much has changed since then, and I will be the first to admit- I was such an idiot.

I've emerged from my second experience as a HUGE advocate for Montessori Education. It is absolutely fascinating to watch the children choose the work that they will do, and to watch the teachers work with them to ensure that they are getting the most that they can out of an activity. It is a calm and cooperative atmosphere. It is an environment of patience and respect. Each child knows what is expected of them, and because of these expectations, makes appropriate choices. I could go on, but I can feel all of your eyes glazing over from here.

I still disagree with the philosophy, to some extent. Montessori teachers do not teach. In the manner that is typically expected of early childhood educators, but they ARE helping the children to learn. They model appropriate behaviors, they include children in discussions about their actions and thoughts, and they encourage them to make decisions and draw conclusions. If this is not teaching, then it is certainly facilitating the learning which is taking place which, in some ways, is even better.

Give ALL the Thanks!

The turkey is already in the oven. From what I hear, it's been there since six. My mother has taken to cooking it in a bag- a practice which she believes negates the fact that it will be in there for seven hours and helps keep it moist. She is mistaken. But it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without an exceptionally dry turkey, so bring on that baking bag!

Last Thanksgiving, I was very fortunate to be able to come home and have dinner with my family. However, I was not so fortunate that I was able to stay for the whole day. I had to leave for the city right after dinner was over. But this year, I am able to stay for the whole weekend, which is pretty awesome. I will be able to join the women in my family for our traditional Black Friday insanity, which is even more awesome, and Thanksgiving-giving will be celebrated once more, with the very best friends in the world. And that is really really great.

Several of my facebook friends have spent the duration of November listing things that they are thankful for this year. In hindsight, I wish that I had done that as well, because I have a tremendous amount to be thankful for this year. That's a wonderful feeling.

I am thankful for my new job, and my great co-workers, and my AMAZING kiddos. I'm thankful for my health, my family, my friends, my Ben, my really nice cat-sitter, and just for how happy my life is.

All of those, of course, and refrigerator magnets....

Nutcracker Nostalgia

For the past three years, it has become a tradition for me, at least once during the 'holiday' season, to blare Tchaikovsky's waltz of the flowers, dance around my kitchen, and cry.

I'm not saying that that very action just occurred in my kitchen yesterday. But I am also not NOT saying it, so you can do that math on that one.

For twelve years of my life, the span of time between the first weekend in September and Christmas was known as "Nutcracker Season" with the Robinson Ballet Company. We'd audition, we'd obsess over casting, we'd rehearse, we'd have the entire score memorized, and then we'd take the show on the road all over Maine (and sometimes New Hampshire). And I loved it. It was chartered buses, perfect pink tights, rehearsals every weekend, pointe shoes sewed with floss, costume changes, stage makeup, bobby pins, and all of the hairspray IN THE WORLD. On top of that, there was the familiar, glazed-over expression that friends and family would get when I broke into one of my many Nutcracker musings. Or rants, as the case may be. It was a very special time every year.



I don't usually talk about it, because it makes me sad. Not sad because I can no longer be in the show, necessarily. It's more because the path that I have taken in my life has made it so that I cannot participate in a tradition that was SO important to me as I grew up. At least, not in the same way that I used to. Sometimes, a familiar song will come over the radio in a restaurant or store as part of their holiday cheer, and I find myself welling up. I've seen a LOT of Nutcrackers, but none will ever compare with the original, the one that I grew up with.

So yesterday, while I could have been doing homework, or packing for my trip home, or cleaning the apartment so the cat-sitter won't judge me, I was instead playing the familiar music, marking out the choreography in my kitchen, and texting F, one of the only other people on the planet who can understand this feeling. "the same thing happened to me this morning," she said, "every time I hear the music on a commercial on TV I get a little bit sad and very nostalgic."

I'm not sure if she was thinking about this EXACT moment, but it was probably something similar...


Yeah. Nutcracker Nostalgia. That's what we can call it from now on.

Nothing Ruins Your Friday....

...like realizing that it's only Tuesday.




Thank goodness for Starbucks.




(to give you all a glimpse of just how tired I am, I will tell you that I just tried to upload the math paper that I was up late editing instead of that gorgeous selfie. Hello, sleep deprivation and scatter brains!)


Maybe it is just me, maybe it's the very inconsistent weather and changing seasons. Maybe it's the fact that I've started my week with too little sleep and a lot on my plate and not enough time for some of the foolishness I've got going on. When something like this happens to Ben, I call it being 'righteously put-upon,' and maybe THAT's what it is- but this week- I'm looking for a little validation. It doesn't have to be much, but I am on the hunt for a sign that says "hey, YOU!! You're doing okay! Just keep going!"

I know, I know. DREAM ON!!

At least we are very close to one of my favorite weeks of the year. So close, in fact, that I can ALMOST see the light at the end of the tunnel...when it isn't blocked by research articles and presentations and textbooks and those awful tri-fold numbers that you use for your 7th grade science fair [YES, I have got to go and get not one, but TWO of those this semester. At least now I'm a grown up and can make them look TOTALLY kick ass!! Get ready to give me MEGA high marks for aesthetics!!].

Enjoy your Tuesday, friends.

Babs Blips: #Babsproblems

There is a slight air of chaos in apartment 6D as we enter this final, 2ish week long stint before Thanksgiving. Ben has tests galore, and I am suddenly realizing that all of my projects and papers are due at about the same time. We've spent a lot of time writing in our planners and, needless to say, great stress is anticipated.

Babs is also feeling the stress, but for slightly different reasons...




"Ugh, so tired. Didn't get my usual five hour nap..." #Babsproblems





"If I get any fatter, I might not fit on this windowsill anymore...." #Babsproblems


oh, the life of a domestic feline. it can be rough, ya'll.

Fall in Fast-Forward

Have you ever noticed that the time right before Halloween to the time right after New Year's Day always goes by in a blur? It is one garbled mess of costumes, family gatherings, office parties, and all the food in the world. Before you know it, BAM! It's the new year and store shelves are stuffed with Valentines. It's nuts.

Be that as it may, I know that I am not alone when I say that this particularly crazy time of year is one of my favorites. It means falling leaves, trick-or-treat, Halloween parties at school (which included one child SO into his Big Bad Wolf outfit that he refused to change out of it all day). It means laughing with my sister and cousin on the front porch of my parents house as we try and make sense of our dysfunctional Thanksgiving Dinner, Thanksgiving-giving, and BLACK FRIDAY SHOPPING (which my work schedule forced me to miss last year). It means a crazy outdoor Half Marathon on the coast of Massachusetts in DECEMBER. It means Christmas shots with my family, the Nativity Play, and my father driving us around on Christmas Eve to look at our neighbors elaborate Christmas-light displays. And when it's all over, it means there is only a month and change until the Disney Princess Half Marathon. Awesome.

One of the perks of being a schoolteacher (aside from the obvious benefit of working with children and giving them a positive educational experience, of course) is that every once in a while you get to enjoy a fabulous three day weekend. We don't have school on Monday in observance of Veteran's Day, and while I know that most of that day will be eaten up by the loads of homework that I have been putting off, the day will still be accompanied by the wonderful feeling associated with a day off from work.


So that's that. I hope everybody is enjoying their autumn. But before I log off, I WILL share with you two wonderful surprises that I found when I got home from work yesterday evening.


The first is a package of energy gels sent from my sister in Maine. They were a totally unexpected and USEFUL gift (expect some sort of play on 'All I Want For Christmas is GU' later in the season....)

I tried the raspberry this morning before my run. Pretty darn good.




The second is something that I knew about already, but had kind of forgotten about. In an attempt to make me jealous, Ben took a bunch of selfies of him and the cat as they snuggled one afternoon while I ran some errands. This one is my favorite.




Happy Saturday!!

That Taco Thing

Ben loves this recipe. I love it too. It used to be that I would make a 9x13 pan of it for dinner, and all of it would be gone before the leftovers hit the fridge. We've grown wise to that, though, and now we try to make it last at LEAST until lunch the next day, which is successful. Sometimes.

Now, again, I cannot take the credit for coming up with this recipe. It has been adapted from a blog called Emily Bites (which you can read HERE), and Emily had adapted it from another blog called Healthy-Licious.

Here's what you need:

1 pound ground turkey
1 onion, diced*
1 cup salsa*
1- 15 ounce can of black beans, drained and rinsed
1- 15 ounce can of red beans, drained and rinsed*
2 to 3 cups of tortilla chips*
2 TBSP shredded cheddar cheese*

*You may have noticed that these ingredients are not terribly specific, and I'll tell you why: I've tried dozens of different combinations, and all of them are delicious. Want to use a white onion? A spanish onion? vidalia? GO FOR IT!! Want to use pinto beans? pink beans? kidney beans? Give 'em a try! Got an extra pepper in the fridge? Throw that in there too! This recipe can handle a little variation- have fun!

Here's what you do:

Preheat oven to 350

Saute the onion until it's translucent



brown the turkey



add the beans

add the salsa, stir so that everything is evenly coated



line the bottom of a 9X13 pan with tortilla chips

spread the mixture over the chips



sprinkle the top with cheese (NOTE: I said 2 tablespoons, but I usually use as much as it takes to cover the top...)



Bake at 350 for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the cheese has bubbled.



ENJOY!!

Delicious Pumpkin Pancakes

Autumn is (finally) here in New York City, and for me, that means that it is time for pumpkin everything. Pumpkin coffee, pumpkin doughnuts, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin bread- at this time of year, I feel that everything that CAN have pumpkin in it, SHOULD have pumpkin in it. Hence these delicious little beauties...



Now, I can't take all the credit here. I adapted this recipe from The Pioneer Woman, but I made a few adjustments, including halving the recipe, as I do not have any children or cowboys to feed. You can check out the original on The Pioneer Woman's blog, HERE.

PUMPKIN PANCAKES:


The Dry:

-1 1/2 Cups All-Purpose Flour
-1/2 Teaspoon Salt
-1 Tablespoon Baking Powder
-2 Tablespoons Sugar
-Pumpkin Pie Spice

The Wet:

-1 Cup Pumpkin Puree
-1 Egg
-1 1/2 cups Milk
-2 Teaspoons Vanilla

The Optional:

-Maple Syrup
-Caramel Sauce
-Whipped Cream (I used Reddi Whip, directly from the can, but Ree Drummond has a delicious-looking recipe for homemade maple-pecan whipped cream)


What To Do:

1.) In a large bowl, combine flour, salt, baking powder, and sugar. Set Aside.

2.) In another bowl, combine pumpkin puree, egg, milk, and vanilla.

3.) Gradually add wet ingredients to dry ingredients, stirring as you go.

4.) Add a dash of pumpkin pie spice, and stir everything together.

5.) Heat your skillet. I used my cast iron skillet, which is AMAZING for making pancakes. However, I would not recommend exceeding a 'low' heat with cast iron, as it gets super hot super quickly, and we don't wanna burn these little guys. If you're not using cast iron, go ahead and heat your skillet anywhere between 'low' and 'medium low.' Make sure and grease your skillet with butter, oil, or PAM, whichever floats your boat.

6.) Drop the batter onto the heated surface. I followed the Pioneer Woman's lead and made silver dollar pancakes, in which case you need about a tablespoon of batter per pancake, but this batter will certainly make large pancakes too. Once pancakes have begun to bubble, flip to the other side and continue cooking until the pancakes are no longer goopy in the middle.

7.) SERVE 'EM UP! With syrup, caramel sauce, whipped cream, or whatever else sounds delicious.

I SHOULD NOTE that Ben and I were able to use one batch of these pancakes to gorge ourselves silly with pumpkin deliciousness 2 mornings in a row, so I would imagine that one batch of this size will serve 3 to 4 normal humans.

I SHOULD ALSO NOTE that these guys freeze really well- wait until they have cooled and arrange them in a freezer-safe container, placing waxed paper between each layer of pancakes. They taste just as good once they have been reheated!


ENJOY!!

Gateway To The Weekend

My mother and my aunt visited this weekend.



We walked approximately one zillion miles. Through Central Park, to Saint Patrick's Cathedral, Rockafeller Center, the Toys R Us ferris wheel in the DREADED Times Square, and we made not one, but TWO trips to Chinatown. Canal street was quite an experience for the pair of them- the bartering, the sneaky opening and closing of the drawers and cupboards- they got some Christmas shopping done. And then some.

My mother was puzzled by my expression when they left on Monday morning, wishing Ben and I a relaxing evening now that we had the apartment back to ourselves. I laughed and cried "Are you kidding?? No sleep till Thursday!!"

That's hyperbole, of course. I HAVE slept between now and then. Quite a lot, actually. But with my classes set up the way that they are, I usually do not arrive home until some time between 9:30 and 10, and my old lady sleep requirements allow me very little time to work on chores, homework, or decompression before the only thing I want is to be asleep. How glamorous. Perhaps I should have said something like "No WORK till Thursday!" Although that, too, would have been a lie. I'll have to think about it.

Tonight after work, I won't be taking my usual green line train home. I am going to the West Side Y to pick up my packet for this weekend's race- the Fit For All 5k. I probably WILL run home after this one, unless there is lots of SWAG to be had...but only time will tell. I'm still on a high from my excellent 10k time two weeks ago, so hopefully I won't disappoint with my time from this race.

That's all for now. Enjoy your Thursday!! It means that Friday is almost here, and that we've almost made it through the whole week- just a little bit longer!!!

Run 10 Feed 10 2013: A Play By Play.

5:45 am: My alarm clock goes off. I don't hear the noise, Ben does. He pokes me from his side of the bed until I'm alert enough to grab my phone from the bedside table.

5:48 am: I realize that it is still pitch black outside, and the sunrise time for New York City is approximately 6:43 am- by then, I will already be at the starting line. Must rethink plans to walk across the park and take west side train down to the pier.

6:00 am: Got my number, got my running shoes, got my ipod and my metrocard. Let's do this. But NOT before I snap a selfie...



6:02 am: Outside the building, I see that my hopes of the sun rising a little earlier this morning have been in vain. I make a mad dash for the 6 train. The one good thing about being out this early is that there is no traffic, so I'm able to interpret the 'WALK' and 'DON'T WALK' signals as 'RUN' and 'RUN FASTER'

6:12 am: Aboard the train. Can't sit down for fear that I will fall asleep. Grip the handrail and focus on keeping my eyes open. The train car is soon crowded with other runners. As I listen to them talk, I notice I may be the only one not planning to watch football later today.

6:27 am: 42nd Street. Shuttle to Times Square. The lights on the billboards are on and flashing away, but there are very few people on the streets, aside from the small groups of runners briskly walking across to 12th avenue. I can't help but unleash my inner tourist and look up at all the signs. It's bizarre to be able to do that and not run the risk of being bumped into or run over by a group of sight see-ers. I do not feel my usual hatred for Times Square.

6:43 am: We arrive at pier 84. The bag-check line is about as long as the race course. I never check bags at races. My philosophy: if it doesn't fit in my sweet Wristie, then I can probably survive without it until I get back home...



Of course, it usually helps that I have someone waiting for me at the finish line with a bag that I've packed the night before and persuaded them to bring to me. No such luck this time, I'll have to make do with what I've got.

6:52 am: The runners begin seeding themselves according to anticipated speed. There are 4 choices- 7 minute mile, 8 minute mile, 9 minute mile, and 10+ minute mile. I optimistically place myself with the 9-minute-milers. The lady next to me is eating a GU. I wish I'd thought to bring one. I KNEW I'd forget something

6:55 am: A middle school orchestra group serenades us with The Star Spangled Banner, and then shrieks upon realizing that a star from Glee is there to start us off! Unfortunately, my perpetual sleepy-ness and the fact that I had my earbuds in already prevented me from hearing WHICH star it was. Also, the sound was being broadcast over speakers, so even if I COULD have seen over the heads of my running-mates, I wouldn't have known where to look to see her. She takes a moment to wish us well, and...

7:10 am: WE'RE OFF!! Down the West Side Highway toward TriBeCa.

7:30 am (ish): I am approaching mile 2. I see the leader heading back toward the finish on the other side of the street. He is wearing a banana costume and has a goofy smile. I smile too.

7:41 am: I cross mile three. Halfway there!! We're instructed to stay on the right side of the path so that regular morning foot traffic can continue as usual. As a group, we are not so successful with this instruction.

8:08 am: Approaching the finish line. Take a deep breath and....FINISH STRONG! Whew! 6.2 miles in 58:06. A personal best!!

8:30 am: After walking the length of the pier to investigate the festivities and grab as much free stuff as I can (not kidding: LOVE the freebies they give away at races and race expos. Lotion? Plastic Pint Glass? Bumper Sticker? WOOT! What excellent and NECESSARY ITEMS!!) I head back east to get the 6. As I cross 12th Avenue, a traffic cop mentions that I look like I could run a little more. I laugh, partly because if my arms weren't so full of swag, I probably WOULD run a little of the way home, but also because, if he had seen me after last year's race,that is NOT what he would have said. Look at me, making progress.

9:00 am: Back on board the 6 train, fantasizing about the giant cup of coffee I will drink while I make Nutella-stuffed pancakes. And we're back to the usual Sunday routine.

Saturday.

I had too much wine last night. My company hosted a dinner for the employees in celebration of the birth of healthy twin boys and impending nuptials. Not for the same woman. It was nice to get out and bond with everybody in a non-school setting, and the food was delicious. However, it was one of those restaurants where, if your wine glass is nearly empty, the waiter is immediately at your side to fill it. Around 9:30, I noticed that my teeth were purple and that I was feeling intense love for everybody- including those who were not members of our staff and were trying to enjoy a quiet dinner. Luckily, M was on the same page. We made our way to the train station, and here I am this morning, trying to build up my motivation to leave the couch, go on a warm-up run, and pick up my packet and number for tomorrow's race!!

Last year at this time, I was set to run a 10k that I hoped to use as my proof of time in my first half marathon. I was still a relatively inexperienced runner, and 6+ miles seemed like a lot, but I felt ready- it was my first-ever race with a number. Very exciting. However, this race took place on the same day as the New York City Marathon Tune-Up, an 18 mile run in central park for those who planned to run the Marathon in November. In addition, the route that I was set to follow crossed paths with the Tune-Up. Neither race had particularly well-marked routes, so I ended up running from City Sports on 48th street, up through Central Park to Central Park NORTH (i.e. 110th street), back down through the park, out at columbus circle, and down to Pier 83. I was shocked at how long it took me to run those 6.2 miles. Turns out it was actually 8.3 miles, so the 20 extra minutes on my anticipated finish time were there for a reason. I was a little bummed that my proof of time was pretty skewed, but at the same time, I was on top of the world- I had run 8.3 miles without stopping- good for me!!

This year, I am registered for the same race, but the route we will be following is along the West Side Highway, so I feel confident in my abilities to NOT run off course. Furthermore, the Marathon Tune-Up was last weekend, so no danger of following the wrong runners. Pretty sweet.

Even sweeter- last year I had to quickly change my clothes and hostess a crazy Sunday brunch after my run. This year, I'm planning a pedicure.

Espresso and Dirty Pop.

Today, it was so humid outside that when M and I stepped out for a coffee, it felt a little like I could chew the air. Tomorrow is supposed to be worse. Eiw. Sticky.

But, if I'm being honest, that is the biggest complaint that I have about life at this moment. And if a little heat in September is as bad as it gets, then life must be pretty sweet. Yeah, life IS pretty sweet.

Today, I rediscovered my love of iced cappuccino. Those who know me know that I DO love my coffee, but every once in a while, a swift kick in the teeth from a shot of espresso is JUST what I need. Mmm. Energy. This afternoon I also rediscovered my *NSync station on Pandora. What is it about boy bands that instantly puts me in a better mood?? It can't just be me. Type "Bye Bye Bye" into your music engine and tell me you don't crack a smile as soon as you hear those opening notes.

On top that, I have an awesome job with really great co-workers and amazing kids, I am running a 5-mile race in Brooklyn this weekend, my Mom, Aunt and Sister are visiting at the end of the month, and I made a really awesome discount find at CVS last night...




RIGHT?!?! Bling Bling? Pirate? Now I DON'T HAVE TO CHOOSE!!

I'd gush more, but I have to run off to my early childhood math class. Normally, anything that has even the WORD "math" in it is enough to give me anxiety, but it appears this class doesn't go much beyond counting and identifying shapes. THAT, I think I can handle. Hopefully.

Danielle Steel FTW...

When my sister and I were in elementary school, we spent much of our time before and after school at our father's mother's house. In addition to being home to hundreds of porcelain dolls covered with see-through plastic sheets, plates which had been modge-podged with whatever holiday-themed fabric was available, and an above-ground pool with a fountain in the middle, it was also home to our father's youngest sister, Jessica. Jess is and always has been an avid fan of Danielle Steel. She has a copy of pretty much everything Danielle has ever written; some in both hardcover and paperback, as well as VHS recordings of all the made-for-TV movies which have been adapted from her novels. I have always been familiar with Danielle Steel.

I'm not [horribly] ashamed to admit that I, too, have read a few Danielle Steels. I usually pick them up at a yard sale or Goodwill, read them, and before long they are resigned to the same fate as before- sitting on a yard sale table or Goodwill shelf. Just this weekend I picked up one I had not seen before- a love story between a brooding, widowed, compassionate cardio-thoracic surgeon and a guarded, nationally acclaimed news anchor with trust issues. Sigh. Here's the thing though: I LOVE these books. I can't explain it. They generally have little to no literary merit, and consist primarily of characters who spend the vast majority of the book thinking what it MIGHT be like to be together, before they come across some sort of obstacle that makes it impossible, and then miraculously overcome the odds and live happily ever after. Of course, that isn't always the case- there are occasionally extenuating circumstances- they might happen to be on board the Titanic, for example.

In spite of all this, I can't help but get caught up in the stories, and if I see one I have not yet stolen from my Aunt Jessica's shelf or borrowed from a Goodwill, I can't help but pick it up and find out what happens. D.S. sure seems to know what she's doing, but I'll be damned if I can figure out HOW she does it.

Wedding Plan Winning.

This is a story about the most amazing wedding menu that there has ever been. In fact, oh mighty blogosphere, I challenge you to think of a time when you have had a more delicious meal at a wedding than the one I am about to describe. But before I get to the absolute amazing-ness that was this meal, and really this wedding as a whole, I must tell you about how I got to said wedding. It was the wedding of my best friend's older sister, which is a trip all in itself, but it also took place in a state that I have not been to- a part of the country that, until last weekend, I had never journeyed remotely toward. To get to this wedding, I had to travel to Colorado. Woahh.


I could take this time to give you all a discourse on the dangers of flying with the airline that I chose. However, in spite of the fact that there were no complimentary beverages offered on board, and that the flight crew was completely unpleasant and proffered such preposterous threats as turning the plane around and returning to the gate upon finding that someone hadn't turned off their cell phone (a behavior that I would not have believed if I had not bee sitting next to the gentleman it happened to...), the flight was cheap AND it is the only airplane I have taken out of LaGuardia to date that has actually left on time. So we'll skip any further elaboration on that.


Rachel's wedding took place in an area of Colorado called Pine. It is a quasi-remote location- the strange looks and repetitions of “Where did you say it was?” from the Denver natives caused me to double check my invitation hundreds of times, but there it was in black and white, PINE, Colorado. In order to get there, you must drive through out of Denver and directly into the mountains- I was pleased that I got to make the trip in the daylight- the sky was incredibly blue, bluer than I have ever seen, due to the higher altitude, and the mountains were amazing- green. Green trees growing out of red, red rock, and sprawling into the sky higher than I could see, even if I craned my neck. And there we were, at a ranch nestled in between a few of the massive rocks. I was encouraged by nearly everybody upon my arrival to make sure and drink plenty of water, and to be honest, I hadn't even noticed the altitude change until I had tried to walk up the bluff to our cabin- I was as out of breath as I had been when I tried to run up the steep sets of stairs that littered the Manayunk hill in Philly. Phew!


I think that my favorite part of the ceremony itself was watching Rachel's new husband, Pat, stomp on the glass and being able to be a part of the excited crowd which shouted “MAZEL TOV!” Ever since I watched “Fiddler on the Roof” as a child, I have anxiously awaited the time in my life where I would be able to replicate that excitement. Don't even get me started on the rest of the ceremony- all it takes is THINKING about seeing Sam in her dress, and her parents trying to hold back their tears and I am all weepy too.


...Which brings us to the reception, and the best meal ever served at a wedding, ever. Are you ready for this?? A little bit of salad (which I only record here to ensure that there WERE veggies present. Sort of..), macaroni and cheese, garlic and herb mashed potatoes, barbeque chicken, pulled pork, and the most delicious, moist, soft, slightly sweet rolls. All comfort food, all the time, all awesome, all helping me ensure that the three glasses of wine I had at high altitude wouldn't render me totally useless. There is a large part of me that wants to copy this menu, right down to the tiny shreds of salad that were pushed to the corner of everybody's plates. Is that a faux pas?

Finished Book Depression

Yesterday morning I started a new book. It was called Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (and yes, it is the same Warm Bodies that sparked the movie which was released earlier this year). I downloaded it to my kindle and opened to the first page before I left for work. 10 hours later, I was finished, and I couldn't help but feel a little deflated. I knew that later in the night, I would want to read Warm Bodies again, but would have already finished it. And this morning when I woke up, I wanted to read only that particular book- I could start it over again, but it isn't the same.

I felt a little like this...




This happens to me a lot, this sort of finished book depression. I find a book, tear in, lose myself, finish the story, and then don't know what to do. This all usually happens in the course of a day, maybe two. Perhaps I need to read more slowly- only allow myself a certain number of pages a day- to extend my stay in these worlds. Maybe I need to pick books that are longer, which will not only prevent me from finishing too quickly, but also- if I get the hard copy- from carrying it with me everywhere I went. My purse is already heavy enough.

Babs Blips: The Bookshelf.

This long weekend saw some mega cleaning on my part, and some mega lounging on Babs's. Isn't it odd the way that cats always seem to know where you want them least- and suddenly THAT is the ONLY place on earth they can imagine themselves getting comfortable?

After the display on the bottom shelf, Ben decided it might be fun to move her to the top and see what she did. At first she was apprehensive, but eventually realized that THIS was ACTUALLY the only place she could ever be comfortable. Funny how that decision came JUST as I had pulled out the chair to rescue her.

Summer Brain.

This morning I got up and ran 8.74 miles in the park. And as I sat on the couch with ice on my knees, my Stitch pillow pet, and other post-run comforts (more coffee, peanut butter, unsweetened applesauce, etc.), I realized that it has been a while since I blogged. I'll blame the summer- that saucy minx. She sweeps in with her nice weather and the time just flies by- tomorrow it will be July. Crazy.

A few people in the med school dorm next to my building are having a cookout on their balcony. Judging by their continuous presence out there with club music and beer funnels, I am torn between two conclusions. First- that they have passed their boards and are going for one last hurrah before they settle into the madness that accompanies the rest of their med-student career; and second- that they did NOT pass their boards and are preparing for some sort of fall back occupation as nightclub owners.

I think it's the former.



This past week has been unbearably hot. It has been so hot that I have not turned on the oven- even to make dinner. You'd be surprised how innovative I became with cold meals- raw veggie plate, gaspacho, and finally, "ah, screw it, let's get take-out." The weather report alleges rain for this next week. Let's hope that that means we will be able to get dressed in the morning without becoming drenched in sweat. We'll see.

It also occurred to me this week- I am running my second half marathon in about two weeks. I am running the Old Port Half Marathon on July 14th- I get another sweet medal, I get to see my sister, and from what I understand, there is beer at the finish line. Does it GET any better than that? And the commute is actually do-able for Ben this time- he'll be at the finish line also. And J and F. Life is good.

Life is real good.

My Summer Soundtrack

Certain songs remind me of different seasons. It could be that I associate them with part of the year when I listened to it an awful lot, or maybe because there's something about the way that they sound that gives me a particular vibe. For example, the song 'Name' by the Goo Goo Dolls always makes me feel like riding in the car, staring out the window. And it's always at sunset and it's always autumn. Anyway. After some thought I put together a list of songs that- to me- say summer. [I should add that there were originally 18 songs on this playlist, but it was unreasonably long, so I halved it...]


1) Jackson Browne- 'Somebody's Baby'

Baseball dugouts. Fast times. Enough said.

2) Aerosmith- 'Jaded'

There is just something about this song that makes me feel like running across a beach. Only not un a slow motion romance kind of way, more of a 'get me to that ocean I wanna splash and scream and have a picnic' kind of way.

3) The Script- 'Don't Break Even'

Picture it: a co worker and I at what was easily my least favorite job. It was summer and this song played about every five minutes. But don't worry, it's not an earworm- except that yeah, it totally is.

4) The Fray- 'Over My Head'

This song was on a mix cd that Libby made for Sammy in high school. I have distinct memories of riding with Sam to Giffords and getting Peppermint Stick ice cream cones. Which reminds me- I must add 'trip to Giffords' to my list of things to do in Maine this summer.

5) Shakira and Wyclef Jean- 'Hips Don't Lie'

School of Robinson Ballet. Hottest days of the whole summer. Being so overcome with the music and the movement that the humidity was only an afterthought. Shakira Shakira.

6) The Eagles- 'Desperado'

My father loves the Eagles. He's got a bunch of cassettes in his truck. I love riding around with my father. And in the summer, these rides usually involve a trip to the Dairy Queen. We have the same blizzard order. Like Father, Like Daughter.

7) Avenue Q- 'My Girlfriend Who Lives In Canada'

The first time I played this song for my sister, we were in the car on the way to the mall. We laughed until we cried.

8) Third Eye Blind- 'Semi- Charmed Life'

'I believe in the sand beneath my toes/ The beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling/ I believe in a faith that grows/ And the four right chords can make me cry/ When I'm with you I feel like I could die and that would be all right.

ALL RIGHT!!'

9) Wheatus- 'Teenage Dirtbag'

Bangor High. Best Friends. Green Saturn. Green Jeep. Best Friends. Soul Mates. OOOoooOOOooo.

Juicy June

June is the time when the sun stays out for good, there is pollen everywhere, and the humidity starts to make every un-air conditioned place feel like a sauna. June is also the time when I get a surge of optimism about today- the rest of the summer- next year- MY LIFE. Yeah, it's happening today. I'm making plans and making changes and I couldn't be more excited about where I'm headed. YAY LIFE!!

Tomorrow will be my first day at a summer camp for preschoolers on the upper east side. My co workers are awesome, we set up our classroom on Friday, and we actually get some kids in with us tomorrow! I'm still adjusting to the idea that pretty much every school in Manhattan has a play area on the roof, but we will be up there playing for the next 11 weeks. I am very pleased. To make things even better, I was also just offered a job for the September-June school year. Amazing. Awesome. Kickin.

I am suddenly so excited about all of the trips I'll be taking this summer. Yeah, most of them are back home to Maine, but I will be running my second half marathon and wedding planning with my Mom, which, to me, are wonderful things to look forward to. And my weekends are free, so people are planning on coming to the city to visit me?! I couldn't be happier.

One of the more- erm-- bittersweet excitements I'm feeling now is the fact that I will have TIME to clean my apartment and make it look the way I want. The bitter, of course, is that I will actually have to clean, and probably for an extended period of time. But I'm ordering furniture and drawing plans on a yellow legal pad and Babs is running and hiding under the bed. She does not like change.

As much as I would love to sit here and gush more about how happy I am (entertaining as THAT may be), I must be off. It's time to get ready for my second to last Sunday brunch for a while. Bring on the Bloody Marys.

Does anybody else feel this way once summer has started? Some other time of year? What kinds of things are you feeling excited about? I guarantee that once you start thinking about it, you'll start to feel great. :)

Runner's High

Let's pretend that you and I are going to get together for coffee. ONly instead of chatting with present-day me, you'll be chatting with me from one year ago. So we'll have to meet in Philly. Hope that's okay. We'll go to Crossroads in Roxborough.

So, we're drinking our coffees and catching up and you ask me, "hey, how's the running going?"

"Ugh," I tell you as I roll my eyes. "I'm almost up to a mile now, but it's really hard. And it makes`my chest hurt."

My, how times have changed!

I'm not exactly sure when the change happened, but at some point between my willing myself to run a mile and my completion of a half marathon, I realized: I LIKE to run! I look FORWARD to running! And when the weather isn't great, I get pouty because I can't run. It's a very drastic change.

Some things, however, do not change. For example, the first 10-15 minutes (in my case, the first miel to mile and a half) are still pretty brutal. I have to keep reminding myself that while it WOULD be nice to turn around and go home and lay on the couch, it will be even better to press on and run further before I head home. And I'm right- afterwards, I DO feel really great. And as the distance I've run increases, so does the euphoria. I don't know what causes this sensation (asides from an obvious release of chemicals in my brain). Maybe it's the feeling of satisfaction about how far I've gone- maybe it's my brain's way of saying "Hallelujah, the torture is over!" I don't know. But I DO believe that the feeling has a name: Runner's High.

It's a bizarre feeling. I feel tired, but energetic. I feel fresh and awake and alive. And it's awesome.


Now let's pretend that we are getting together for coffee today. We'll go to Champignon- it's right down the street from my apartment. This time, when you ask me how the running is going, I'll gush to you about the half marathon I'm running in July, the challenges of staying hydrated, and my quest to find a good pair of compression socks.

My, how times have changed.

Minnie Mouse Meltdown

My Minnie Mouse watch is currently MIA. I have looked in all the usual spots, and suspect a certain black-and-grey thief who is attracted to shiny objects may have hidden in somewhere. You can rest assured that I will be ripping the house apart this afternoon until I find it. *sigh*

However, this missing watch made me realize how often my life reflects some kind of cartoony-funny moment- though I should note that it's usually at a time that whose humor is lost on me until later. HERE is what I looked like yesterday as I walked to work, on the phone with my Mum, sans watch. Just replace any gripes about John Stamos with gripes about the missing timepiece and BAM- exact match.

You're welcome. Happy Sunday!

Next Semester's Resolution...

VICTORY!! I've done it! My first grad school semester is OVER!! And I don't want to brag...except yeah, I totally do. Two out of the three grades are in...and they are both A+. I'm feeling exceptionally proud of me and my effort and my brain. But that's enough gloating.

I was expecting my main gripe for the semester to have something to do with procrastination- just waiting until the last minute to get the gigantic projects done. But I didn't do that- I actually planned them out ahead of time (amazing, I know), and had everything all set...but then...I would double check the rubric, and a frenzy would ensue.

I know that rubrics are supposed to be there to help you and make sure that you are on the right track. And for most people- most normal people- that is probably what it did. However, I would look at the expectation and the standard that substantiated an A, and suddenly freak out, worried that my paper/case study/curriculum/what have you didn't match those qualifications. I would drink tons of coffee and do a nearly complete overhaul- only to have the finished product be nearly identical to what I had in the first place.

This did not happen just once. It happened on four separate occasions.

SO, with that in mind, I am making a resolution for next semester. Instead of double checking my work by the rubric's standard at the last minute, I will only read through the expectations as I am working, and once I'm finished, there will be no freaking out and starting over. BAM. DECREED.




But that is for later. Right now I am going to focus on my NEW job, FINALLY cleaning my apartment, and reading FICTION! Which reminds me- does anybody have some good read recommendations?

Babs Blips- The Fur

Babs has a strange affinity for anything that is different- different color, different size, different texture- and will often position her self to lay down on said different item. This doesn't mean that this item is more comfortable than her previous spot, just that it is different. Different is very important.

Next week, once I am free from any graduate school obligations, I have made a promise to myself to get down to all the spring cleaning that needs to be done in APT 6D. Seeming to sense this, Babs has taken this time to start depositing as much white hair on as many non-white things as possible.




Here she is with a double whammy. NOT ONLY are my clothes a different texture than that of the chair they are resting on, but they are also a very dark color, where white hair will definitely be noticeable. Good Luck, future Mandy...

--itis.

I've been having a little bit of trouble focusing this week. Now, don't get me wrong, I usually do struggle with focus, particularly on my days off, but it's sort of an opposite feeling than the way I feel now. Typically, my problem lies in the fact that I have a lot of different ideas for a lot of different projects (both school-related and...non-school-related...) and I can't quite decide what to settle on first. I usually end up with a bunch of partially done things at the end of the day, and need to deliberate on what should be prioritized first. I don't mind that so much. To me, it feels better than just laying around not doing anything. Which has sort of been my problem this week.

It can't be senior-itis. I am nowhere near completing my masters. So let's just call it end-of-the-semester-itis (wow, that just flows RIGHT off the tongue...). I feel like I am so close to the end...I only have a couple of things left to do....and yet I can't bring myself to actually finish them. Illogical as it may be, it is my current predicament. I have a take home test, a curriculum plan to finish, and *sigh* one last observation to nail down. Not to mention that the house is a mess and if I don't do some laundry soon- let's just say that it won't be pretty.



I WILL TAKE CARE OF THESE THINGS TODAY! Wish me luck! At least it's cloudy outside. When its sunny that saucy minx known as Central Park coaxes me outside for a longer-than-necessary run. Or walk. Or seat on the bench watching the area first-graders play capture the flag.

Hope everybody enjoys their Friday!!!

The End of the Semester Cometh...

So the blog has been on a sort of hiatus these past couple weeks as I struggled to get my sh*t together. Or keep my sh*t together, more rightly. There were projects to finish and quizzes to take and observations to be had and interviews to go on and--basically it was me running around the island of manhattan with a giant cup of coffee and a twitch-y eyelid.

Things are going well, and the times- they are a changin'. I promise that, once I get a free minute, I will sit down and explain everything in excruciating detail. But for now, have a look at the mandala that I made for my art class. It is my very favorite thing that I've made all semester.

Babs Blips: Studying

Ben and I have both been on intense homework benders this past week, and I'm not gonna lie, next week shows no signs of letting up. We went to meet up with J and F in Queens, and both brought textbooks on the subway. We get up in the morning and are reading and writing before the coffee is even ready. It's been rough, but it is making summer "vacation" look THAT much more appealing.

Occasionally, Babs will read a few pages, too. You'd be surprised by the great insights she brings to our discussions.

Happy Friday!

ReMemoirs

I was first introduced to David Sedaris during my junior year of high school. My creative writing teacher photocopied a story of his that she particularly liked- one about strange neighbors and Halloween candy- and read it aloud to us in October. I'm not sure what was funnier- the situation described in the story, or the fact that my teacher laughed so hard and so much that she had to stop several times to collect herself. I went out and bought that book shortly after.

In the years that have followed, I've read dozens of Sedaris stories, and even better, have gotten a hold of recordings of David himself reading them aloud. And I love them. They are clever, they are poignant, they are relatable, and they are just so funny. But here's the thing that I love the most and envy the most about the way that David Sedaris tells a story- the graceful way that he handles situations. Several of his stories deal with times that must be painful to recall- often David feels embarrassed or downright humiliated through the telling of it, and yet the story is still hilarious. He is able to laugh at himself, and so we are, too.

How does he do that?

Often when I think about a time that I've felt humiliated, it is with a twinge of pain and blushing and telling myself , "I don't want to think about that." I know that many of these events have the potential to be humorous, but I doubt that I'd be able to manipulate them so that I thought they were funny, let alone someone else.

Maybe I need more life experience- I could try and cast these memories aside for a while longer, and revisit them when they've had even more time and space. But how long should that take? In some cases, it has been YEARS and still the thinking of it brings a pained expression. I suppose it's worth a shot. I could get a little notebook- maybe in an ironic and brightly- colored pattern, and write down all the things that I don't want to think of now, but that might be funny later. Or when I'm 40. Or after that. Yeah, that might work. But I think that that strategy, however helpful it may seem, is still putting off the inevitable. I think the real secret to finding the humor in painful circumstances deals more with facing those beasts head-on. If I ever WANT to find the good in these memories, I will have to embrace the bad. I will have to re-live the stomach lurches and shaky breaths and the "Mandy, why are you turning so red?"'s. And then I will laugh at it. And let it go. I'm not sure that I am quite ready for that process.

Maybe later. Or when I'm 40. Or after that.

i is organized.

Everybody has some weeks that are better than others. If anybody you know claims otherwise- in either direction- they are lying. For me, last week was a real downer. Aside from the obvious laundry list of horrible things that happened around the country I was not feeling well, and spent most of my free time being totally unproductive and feeling absolutely 100% disorganized.

Not that it would take much, but I have a feeling that this week will be better. I've really organized my time.

Ben likes to organize his time while he's in the shower. I suspect that they majority of the time he's in there is devoted to planning his day. The whole washing thing is sort of an after thought. I wish that my brain worked like that. My bouts of extreme time organize-ed-ness always occur at the worst possible moments. I'll have an epiphany while I'm deep in the weeds at work, or- my personal favorite- when I am comfortably in bed, just hovering between being awake and asleep. I always promise myself that I'll remember the schedule that I should implement one I wake up, but of course I never do.

Except, mysteriously, for this past Sunday night. It was late and I was in bed, trying ti stop my brain from focusing on things that weren't sleep-- i.e. wedding planning, clothes shopping, my mile-long list of chores, and more recently, a case study due in one of my classes. "You know what?" I told myself, "I'm gonna get up early and FOCUS on that case study tomorrow." I wouldn't be surprised if I slept with my brow furrowed in determination. And, sure enough, Monday morning, I DID. I know, this kind of things NEVER happens, but it really jazzed me up for the rest of the day. I organized my time for the rest of the week, working carefully to allow an outing with J and F tonight, AND time for Ben and I to experience his very favorite Star Trek- TNG episode on the big screen. Spoiler Alert: They separate the saucer section of the Enterprise. Apparently it's awesome.

So. THIS week is looking excellent. now, if I can just keep my momentum. And hey, if my brain wants to do something similar EVERY Sunday night into Monday morning, I'm totally okay with that.

But I won't hold by breath.

Babs Blips: The Gargle

Our apartment is on the 6th floor, and as a result, overlooks the roof of the building next door. It's like a labyrinth of chimneys and steam pipes and bricks, and it seems to be a premier hangout for pigeons and other birds of East Harlem.

Babs loves to bird watch. She was delighted to find that this apartment had not one, but THREE large windows with cat-friendly windowsills. She sits and gargles at them every morning- or some strange mix of meow/purr/growl/gargle. “If I were not in here,” she tells them, “I would EAT you!”



They remain unconvinced.

the world we live in.

I heard about the Marathon explosions through a lunch guest at the restaurant. I changed the TVs to the news station and waited for more details, and when S came in around 4:30, I couldn't help but ask immediately if she had heard about it. She hadn't.

"You know," she sighed, "I feel like I'm not even surprised."

I had to admit that I, too, was concerned by the lack of shock that I felt when I heard the news. Instead of a state of disbelief, I found myself getting angry and upset- that THIS is what our world is coming to- that an event that has long been a celebration of community, of athleticism, of people coming together, has been scarred forever by an act of senseless violence. Marathon Monday would never again exude the same brightness and enthusiasm. Sure, that energy would still be there, but not without the shadow of sorrow from times past. Not without a constant, nagging feeling to look over your shoulder and be sure that everything is all right. Not without children who want to stand close to the runners, but instead must grapple with the fear that they might accidentally stand too close to an explosive.

S was feeling similarly, and suddenly, she was so angry and speaking so quickly that it was difficult to understand. "This is why I feel sorry for my nephews!" she spat, "this is why I don't have children! I feel so sorry about the world that we are leaving behind for them!" I think the dismay on my face must have been too much. S rummaged through her bag and offered me a Twinkie.

Most of the evening was pretty grim. Everyone who walked in wanted to watch the news coverage and talk loudly- "what a shame, so terrible, are there any more details?" New York 1 ran the same clip of the explosions over and over- a clip that appeared to be taken from someone's cell phone. I watched as the tremors from the blast knocked runners over, and- this was really hard- as a group of people sprinted forward into the left side of the screen. I gasped when I saw that they were pushing a stroller. It was rough- the whole thing, just--devastating.

And then I took note of something that I hadn't before. As the explosion played and replayed, I saw the police, the volunteers, the bystanders, all rushing toward the barrier from which it came. They worked together to rip the fence down and get to the wounded. If any of them were concerned about another device, or for their own safety, they didn't show it. The only thing that mattered was getting to those people. I watched as people ran toward the smoke, ran into the chaos, to try and help others. I heard later about runners who literally RAN to the hospital to try and donate blood, about bystanders helping to comfort those suffering from the physical and emotional turmoil of the day. The outpour of love from social media sites was through the roof. And I changed my mind.

It is easy to embrace the anger fueled by this event. I woke up this morning feeling really angry. I shouted several choice phrases that culminated in me wondering aloud "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THIS? HOW ARE WE GOING TO CHANGE THIS?" And in all honesty, I really don't know. We don't have answers for these questions yet, but I know that they will come. But I do think that a glimmer of hope has emerged from all this. Even in the face of pointless and devastating violence, there is a kindness in humanity that will not soon be changed. That's the kind of thing that gives ME hope. Even in the wake of such a travesty of humankind, it's hard to not feel at least a little optimistic- so many people were there to help. SO many risked their lives to help others and to try and make everybody safe. A terrible act of violence may have occurred yesterday, but we will rally. Marathon Monday will return in all of it's glory. The present devastation is only a momentary low. Humanity will not be held down.

guess I still need work on this whole "consistent" thing...

In the past week, I had two major assignments due for separate classes. Now, before we all go assuming that I procrastinated until the very last minute, I want to assert that my newfound grad-school self doesn't do that. I had finished the paper due Tuesday on Sunday, and the lesson plan for Wednesday even earlier. However, while my newfound grad-school self does not procrastinate anymore, she does something even worse. Monday came, and I had the entire day at work to consider the rubric of my paper against what I had actually written. I went home absolutely panic-stricken: my paper was all wrong. I would have to start over.

And so I did. Two or three times, actually. I wanted to make sure that I had addressed everything that my professor would assess and that it was as perfect as possible. I didn't drink any more coffee than usual, but if someone had told me that I had actually woke up Tuesday morning and smoked crack, I would have believed them- my energy was off the wall insane. After my fifth or sixth time reading my paper over (which, by the way, was eerily similar to my first draft..), I decided that enough was enough. If nothing else, I would be awarded points for the obvious time and effort that I had put in. I went to the coffee shop on the corner and tried to concentrate on regulating my heart rate and keeping my eyelid from twitching. I'm sure that my pupils were about twice their normal size. BUT the most important thing is that I handed my paper in. I can only hope that the extra time and worry that I put into it will not result in it's downfall (e.g. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Chrystal Skull...).

When class was finished, I suddenly realized that I was starving, grabbed some takeout from the Indian place on 95th, and headed home to transcribe my lesson plan from the page to the computer. Then I got a glimpse of a portion of the assignment I hadn't seen before- TWO EXTRA pages of items that I hadn't begun to think about. And I might have had a meltdown. But I was miraculously able to pull myself together and actually READ the items. No big deal. However, when I got to class the next day (a day that was also spent wondering if my coffee had had crack in it), I saw that almost everybody in the class must've had a similar moment. I walked in to the sound of my professor yelling over the buzz in the room, "LOOK, I DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW. IF THERE WAS SOMETHING YOU DIDN'T UNDERSTAND, WE WILL GO OVER IT TODAY AND YOU CAN RE-SUBMIT. THERE IS NO REASON TO PANIC." Everybody was so freaked out that I had to laugh a little. You know, I'd imagine that all grad school classes ARE like this, but it is just so funny to have a bunch of people (mostly women) with VERY similar attitudes, personalities, and organizational styles all in the same room, all trying their best to over-achieve.

As a reward to myself for finishing the two giant projects of the moment, I went on a Kindle shopping spree. I usually use my Kindle to buy four types of books; 1) free downloads/vanity presses, 2) books I'm interested in reading that are less than $3 in the Kindle store, 3) books that I would like to read but are so embarrassing that I would be too ashamed to actually bring them to a cash register/check out desk, and 4) Agatha Christies. "I'll just read one chapter of [shameful harlequin romance title here] before I go to bed," I told myself. Chya. Fast forward to 2am, when I decide that it REALLY is time for bed. I learned a valuable lesson that night: do not start a book so close to bedtime. Especially if you are feeling particularly cracked out. Results can be dire.

I bounced out of bed on Thursday, feeling crack-eyed and ready for the day, but it was short lived. After a brief observation of a local classroom, I crashed. Hard. And yesterday was decidedly devoid of that cracked- out feeling and instead full of laundry. OH, and a trip to Babbo with Ben and his friend, Alex. But that's another story.

And I guess that brings us to today. I usually spend Saturday mornings moping around and griping about how I don't want to go to work, but this weekend, my boss is out of town AND I get to work a double with a co-worker that I much prefer over the usual one. So I guess I'll survive. OH. and a best friend is in town and we have plans to get together tomorrow. So if I can somehow make it through today unscathed, I'll be incredibly pleased with myself.

I'll probably need more crack. COFFEE. I'll probably need more coffee.

...well, I thought it was funny...

Saturday morning was off to a rough start. After fielding a distressing phone call about one of my relatives (she was in surgery- she is now recovering and doing well, considering), I was walking to work and a giant hunk of ice came tumbling off a building and hit my head. When I regained my composure and finally made it to the restaurant (10 minutes late), I was convinced that Saturday would be a bad day, and there was nothing that could happen that would possibly put me in a better mood.

However.

I did not anticipate this particular couple coming in to have brunch. They were young and good-looking, and at first I was jealous because I never get to go to brunch with my beau on the weekends. I took their order and went about my business, and then I saw it. On the floor. Next to their table. At first I wasn't sure if the falling ice had had some sort of residual effect on my brain, but it was there, unmistakable. A condom.

Before you get too grossed out, I want to point out that it was still in the package. But it was just laying there while they drank their Mimosas. I wondered if I should point that out to them, but resisted for fear that it was some sort of 'candid camera' situation. I mean, is there a "good" way for that to be handled?? I assumed that just letting it lie, so to speak, was the best solution. Luckily, one of them DID see it and snatch it up before they left, but for some reason, the whole thing struck me as incredibly funny. In addition, the new guy brought me a banana, and I was disproportionately happy about eating it.


Maybe that falling ice DID have some lasting effects.

Slice of Life- Favorite Photos.

I'll be the first to admit- I am certainly not a gifted photographer. That, however, does not hinder my love of taking pictures. I'll spare you all the speech about how looking back on my photos reminds me of the good feelings that I wanted to document, and how those feelings radiate in and out of my iphoto and make me so happy, and just show you. Here are some of my favorites.


Enjoy!!

New Year's Eve, 2011. All of the bars on Main Street were full, so we entertained ourselves in other ways. To this day I am still not sure what type of business requires a hammerhead shark to be leaping out from the laminant.

Love this slug. Love those marigolds.

This one is from a few years ago. I have no idea why my sister and I are wearing boxer shorts, but I love the look of triumph on her face. And her skinned knee.

Best. Christmas. Ever.

The view from the apartment that Land and I shared in Bangor.

A windowpane from the quirky and fun Main Street in Manayunk.

Captured from a book store in Reading Terminal Market.

<3

I was not the photographer on this one. This photo was taken by Kathleen, a 4 year old girl that I babysat in Philly. I do not know WHAT this is a picture of, but it looks SO cool. Way to go, Kathleen!

"Sisters Going To Church on Christmas Eve Gothic."

Love this guy's sales pitch.



So, what did you think? Did you like them?? Did you hate them?? Oh! does anybody have good captions for them? That might be a fun game...

Have a wonderful weekend, everybody!!

A Sign.

Some time before Christmas, I was sitting in the living room of my parents house with some of my best friends. We were musing about what the new year might bring, and sort of laughing about the fact that most of us had had pretty crappy 2012s, or, at the very least, ends of 2012s. I think we all were hoping for some kind of magical sign to tell us that we were on the right track. And a few days later, after I had returned to New York, that is exactly what happened to me.

This is the story of how I knew that 2013 would be a good year, and that the choices I've made for the future are the right ones.

Picture it: Bistro Nora. December 31, 2012. I am a total grouch. I was told that we would close early because the restaurant is not exactly a New Year's destination. Turns out: it was more of a destination than we had planned, and I wasn't going anywhere. Cue the pity party.

It was then that a family walked in. I won't say much about them aside from the fact that they come in fairly often and that they have two children- a daughter and a non-verbal son who usually sits in a high chair and doesn't do much in the way of communication.

I went over- could I interest Mom and Dad in a little champagne? Why sure! And then, this little boy grabbed my hand.
“Oh honey, don't..” his mother protested from across the table.
He gave my hand a kiss.
“Oh, I'm sorry!”
“It's okay!” I knelt down so that I was eye level with the child. He still held my hand. And then he wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me the most wonderful hug- and kissed my cheek too.
“Oh- my gosh!!” his mother looked surprised, but in a good way, “he- he never does that with strangers!”

I knew in that moment that my grad school decision was the right one. I've got to work with children. I like them, they like me, and I cannot begin to express the joy that I felt when this little boy squeezed me into his chest. After a brief conversation about my future plans- Mom thought I would be a great teacher- I had such enthusiasm, she said- I walked back into the coffee station and wiped the happy tears off my face. I am so, SO glad that I had to work on New Year's Eve. The goals for the future that I was still getting used to were reaffirmed by an awesome little guy and his mother.


And I knew that 2013 would be good.


And yeah, I know that this is a little late, but I just found it yesterday- so let's just apply it to the REST of 2013...

the oldest

Saturday brunch was off to a slow start this past week, but I was glad to see one of our brunch regulars. She had beat the rush, and so I had time to talk to her.
“We have very similar interests,” I explained to the new guy when he asked me about her. “We like a lot of the same books, and we both like to knit and to cross stitch- she's even given me websites with cute patterns.”
The new guy smiled and shook his head, “you are just- the oldest lady.”

I feel like this might be an offensive statement to some, but I didn't take it as such- mostly because it is true. I'm not really into the bar scene, I like to be able to go to bed early, and I consider a night where I get a few chores done or get to work on my latest craft to be immensely satisfying. Not to mention the fact that I'm a rabid Golden Girls fan. I'd do crazy things for a chance to meet Betty White.

And I don't see that theres anything wrong with that. In those ways, yeah- I am old. I'm really old. And I like it that way.

That's all....


HAPPY FRIDAY!!