Several people have told me that I am a Baldwin through and through, despite my olive skin and tendency to talk with my hands. It has only been in recent years that I realized I have “Harvey-isms” – quick wit, clever responses, an offbeat sense of humor. But I have always known I’m like my grandmother. I have been writing, writing and writing since I could hold a pen, and every time I had a new story to tell anyone, I’d hear, “Oh, she gets that from her grandmother.”
Anyone who knows her knows she was a storyteller. She still remembers her father as "a giant of a man, six foot three, with the broadest shoulders you've seen." And she can still tell you about the time she was attending Catholic school at age 6, and how her mother yelled at the wretched nun who hit my grandmother with a ruler. Age 6? I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday and she remembers 86 years ago.
People joked that Grandma and I were a perfect match because I listened to her stories in total awe every single time, no matter how often she repeated them. But I think I speak for everyone here when I say we will miss the stories. The silence that replaces them now is heart wrenching. The ending to her story was a sad one – but rarely did Grandma end her stories with “happily ever after.” That wasn’t her style.
But the silence does not stand a chance against the most powerful weapons against death and loss: Legacy. She has left us a legacy of memory, of human experience, of all the little anecdotes that make our lives complicated and beautiful. You will be in your kitchen one holiday, frantically trying to prepare dinner, and you’ll remember the story Anne told you about the time that she had to pluck, clean and cook a turkey in the late hours of Christmas Eve. You will always laugh when you reach a Certain Age and think of Anne, who used the line “It’s not like I’m 90!” until it could no longer apply.
And her legacy goes beyond the written word. It was in her patience (take one look at her grandchildren and you’ll get it), her warmth and her almost-famous sense of decorum. She would probably take offense to the word “Old,” but to me, she embodied old-world charm. She was always impeccably and stylishly dressed and always offered a place to sit and something to eat when you came to call, even when only rice cakes were on the menu. And, of course, she always had a story to share.
To this day I sometimes still cannot believe I inherited a talent that became the very core of who I am – a writer. My grandmother was the woman who taught me how to tell a story. I cannot thank her enough for that. There is a part of me who feels as though I’ve lost my biggest inspiration, but I still have her legacy.
Whether we're writers or not, we can all learn from her example: never be afraid to express yourself. I believe she would want us to speak from that place in your heart where you are most yourself. Speak directly, simply, honestly. Don’t be afraid to speak with a little sass and without any apologies. Tell us what you see and want us to see; tell us what you hear and want us to hear. Trust your own heart. The words will come.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
That's the way we get by
Illness, death, loss. They get inside of your head and seep into your soul. They bring out levels of raw emotions – anger, sadness, despair, denial – that you didn't think you were capable of feeling. Death shakes you; it turns you inside out. It is ruthless, it is merciless and it wants to wreck you, and rarely do we know exactly when and how.
For those of us living and breathing who experience the death of a loved one, the opposite of loss becomes cope. The way we get by.
I've learned more about cope in the last 48 hours than I thought was possible to know. I've learned it can be synonymous with strength and desperation all in the same day.
Coping...the way we get by. It can be simple: Some people cry too much. Others don't at all. There are those who use humor as a weapon against sadness, and some who use the contents of a bottle of wine.
Sometimes coping goes far deeper. Some of us watch helplessly as everything shatters or begin to self-destruct, putting everything that is good in their life in harm's way.
I used most, if not all, of those coping mechanisms this weekend, but I am not here to blog about my indiscretions right now. Maybe one day I'll come to terms with the way I cope. What happened in the last 48 hours is a story too raw and too real to be ignored. I'll do my best to edit myself out.
With my grandmother's condition rapidly worsening – she had been moved to hospice - our parents, mid-family-barbecue, calmly let my sister and I know they'd be going up to Boston early the following morning. Lauren instantly jumped aboard. It took about an hour for me to realize what Lauren already knew: Mom needed her wolfpack. It wasn't going to be a fun trip, but we could sure as hell make an attempt for it.
Trying to have a last bit of fun, I stayed out far too late, drowned my sorrows in gin, overslept and finally hurried to the house, bewildered, half an hour late. In four hours, thanks to Lauren's superb driving, we arrived. There was no time to wrap my head around how quickly we made it; there was too much to be done.
The visit was harder than I had anticipated. She was waking up from the cocktail of painkillers, so she was completely disoriented. She had wasted away – a plump middle replaced with chicken legs and a wedding ring rattling around her bony finger. A vast departure from our visit in February.
She managed to speak, but it's barely understandable anymore, thanks to the tumor that chokes her voice. Because being in a hospice is apparently not enough of a punishment. All she said was “I don't understand how this could happen to me.”
I have never been filled with more anger and sadness in that moment. I could not give her the answer she deserved. The terminally ill are the terminally condemned. I do not care how often someone tells me that my grandmother wasn't in pain that day. Pain is deeper than the physical hurt. My grandmother, who could hardly move, could hardly speak and barely knew where she was, was in mental agony.
In a not so brilliant move, my sister and I later took our frustration out on gigantic dishes of ice cream at Cabot's. Knock, knock; who's there? Emotional eating, that's who! Coping tastes especially good with peanut butter candy crumbled on top. Still, no amount of dairy could prepare us for the task of emptying out grandma's apartment.
I'd like to think we coped with this task far better than anything else. It became a fun treasure hunt. My mother discovered a thought-to-be-lost wedding ring; I took home a ledger that's filled with grandma's one big legacy - her stories. There was one person who did not take this well: my aunt.
It would later prove to be a hilarious moment on her 4th phone call to my mom. As Leslie, in a total state of denial, begged my mother not to throw anything away, claiming Grandma would come back from this, my father, sister and I had already bagged up 80% of the room. “Maybe I should take pictures before you start,” Leslie offered, and Mom could only awkwardly survey our progress and respond with “Uhhh... well.....”
The rest of the weekend was a strange, surreal blur of laughter, tears, hilarity, drunkenness and angst, all held together by strength. I may not be proud of how I cope, but I am proud of my ability to rise to the occasion and step up to the plate. I learned it from my parents' example. Sometimes, you gotta do what you've gotta do.
And that's the way I get by.
For those of us living and breathing who experience the death of a loved one, the opposite of loss becomes cope. The way we get by.
I've learned more about cope in the last 48 hours than I thought was possible to know. I've learned it can be synonymous with strength and desperation all in the same day.
Coping...the way we get by. It can be simple: Some people cry too much. Others don't at all. There are those who use humor as a weapon against sadness, and some who use the contents of a bottle of wine.
Sometimes coping goes far deeper. Some of us watch helplessly as everything shatters or begin to self-destruct, putting everything that is good in their life in harm's way.
I used most, if not all, of those coping mechanisms this weekend, but I am not here to blog about my indiscretions right now. Maybe one day I'll come to terms with the way I cope. What happened in the last 48 hours is a story too raw and too real to be ignored. I'll do my best to edit myself out.
With my grandmother's condition rapidly worsening – she had been moved to hospice - our parents, mid-family-barbecue, calmly let my sister and I know they'd be going up to Boston early the following morning. Lauren instantly jumped aboard. It took about an hour for me to realize what Lauren already knew: Mom needed her wolfpack. It wasn't going to be a fun trip, but we could sure as hell make an attempt for it.
Trying to have a last bit of fun, I stayed out far too late, drowned my sorrows in gin, overslept and finally hurried to the house, bewildered, half an hour late. In four hours, thanks to Lauren's superb driving, we arrived. There was no time to wrap my head around how quickly we made it; there was too much to be done.
The visit was harder than I had anticipated. She was waking up from the cocktail of painkillers, so she was completely disoriented. She had wasted away – a plump middle replaced with chicken legs and a wedding ring rattling around her bony finger. A vast departure from our visit in February.
She managed to speak, but it's barely understandable anymore, thanks to the tumor that chokes her voice. Because being in a hospice is apparently not enough of a punishment. All she said was “I don't understand how this could happen to me.”
I have never been filled with more anger and sadness in that moment. I could not give her the answer she deserved. The terminally ill are the terminally condemned. I do not care how often someone tells me that my grandmother wasn't in pain that day. Pain is deeper than the physical hurt. My grandmother, who could hardly move, could hardly speak and barely knew where she was, was in mental agony.
In a not so brilliant move, my sister and I later took our frustration out on gigantic dishes of ice cream at Cabot's. Knock, knock; who's there? Emotional eating, that's who! Coping tastes especially good with peanut butter candy crumbled on top. Still, no amount of dairy could prepare us for the task of emptying out grandma's apartment.
I'd like to think we coped with this task far better than anything else. It became a fun treasure hunt. My mother discovered a thought-to-be-lost wedding ring; I took home a ledger that's filled with grandma's one big legacy - her stories. There was one person who did not take this well: my aunt.
It would later prove to be a hilarious moment on her 4th phone call to my mom. As Leslie, in a total state of denial, begged my mother not to throw anything away, claiming Grandma would come back from this, my father, sister and I had already bagged up 80% of the room. “Maybe I should take pictures before you start,” Leslie offered, and Mom could only awkwardly survey our progress and respond with “Uhhh... well.....”
The rest of the weekend was a strange, surreal blur of laughter, tears, hilarity, drunkenness and angst, all held together by strength. I may not be proud of how I cope, but I am proud of my ability to rise to the occasion and step up to the plate. I learned it from my parents' example. Sometimes, you gotta do what you've gotta do.
And that's the way I get by.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Let's be real.
I do not want to talk about my weekend. It was horrible. Family problems are everywhere and mine aren't any different from yours or yours or yours.
That said, after feeling low, down on myself and lethargic for most of the day, I realized it was almost time to pick up my roommate from the airport, as I'd promised her. Before I left, I jazzed up the apartment with birthday things - she turned 24 yesterday - and ran out to put the finishing touches on her gift.
I got to ACY -- it was a sweet ride down, a perfect day to drive, really -- and went all-out when I saw her. We gave each other the lamest, silliest hug, I got her suitcase in the trunk, I had an apple and a Coke Zero waiting for her, along with a birthday crown.
A long talk and a short ride later, we rolled back into Point and went out to dinner. A little later, it came up that CK's boyfriend bailed out on picking her up from the airport, and it had kinda let her down. She turned to me and said "You showed up and had an apple, a Coke Zero and a birthday tiara. No one knows me better than you do."
I could have laughed til I cried. My biological family will always be my family. But on bad, bad days like this, I find peace and comfort in friends that are, to me, like family. I am lucky.
Two weeks until France. Making my packing list? Oh you bet. :D
That said, after feeling low, down on myself and lethargic for most of the day, I realized it was almost time to pick up my roommate from the airport, as I'd promised her. Before I left, I jazzed up the apartment with birthday things - she turned 24 yesterday - and ran out to put the finishing touches on her gift.
I got to ACY -- it was a sweet ride down, a perfect day to drive, really -- and went all-out when I saw her. We gave each other the lamest, silliest hug, I got her suitcase in the trunk, I had an apple and a Coke Zero waiting for her, along with a birthday crown.
A long talk and a short ride later, we rolled back into Point and went out to dinner. A little later, it came up that CK's boyfriend bailed out on picking her up from the airport, and it had kinda let her down. She turned to me and said "You showed up and had an apple, a Coke Zero and a birthday tiara. No one knows me better than you do."
I could have laughed til I cried. My biological family will always be my family. But on bad, bad days like this, I find peace and comfort in friends that are, to me, like family. I am lucky.
Two weeks until France. Making my packing list? Oh you bet. :D
Monday, April 5, 2010
Financial Rant
I’m a bad blogger who doesn’t write nearly as often as I should.
Wow, April. 21 days until Paris, and 25 until my 2th birthday. I’m getting “old” or something.
So I wanted to share some thoughts concerning debt, the economy and all that other family dinnertime talk. I got into somewhat of an argument with my dad and cousin last night about the current state of things. I was explaining to him that the bracket of people that are myself and my sister’s age are way worse off than people his age.
My dad and cousin graduated college without nearly the costs and debt that Lauren and I got into. Everything was cheaper - even taking inflation into account. Even a 5-year difference is staggering: my sister made roughly my salary now upon graduation and was able to live in PA in a real apartment. With her salary in NJ, I live in someone's basement.
While it’s depressing and upsetting to see that my dad’s salary was chopped in half in 24 hours, to know that he had the rug pulled out from under him, at least he was working toward the light at the end of the tunnel. This generation never saw the light. Someone pulled the plug, and now we’re working toward a lot of nothing. Here’s no telling how retirement options, interest rates, and 401Ks will change. I don’t think we’re out of the woods, and I don’t see the light getting plugged back in. I envision myself always being poor, always strugging with debt. What if I choose to get married and have kids? What if I want to buy a house one day? None of this seems even fathomable, not in 5 years not in 10. It angers me.
Well, other than that, the Easter holiday was chaos as usual, but I baked a cake and topped it with fresh strawberries and home-made whip cream, thank you Olivia for the inspiration! Was going to originally do ladyfingers, but couldn't find a suitable kind. Here's the finished product:
Yum. OK, back to work, but more omorrow or tonight!
Wow, April. 21 days until Paris, and 25 until my 2th birthday. I’m getting “old” or something.
So I wanted to share some thoughts concerning debt, the economy and all that other family dinnertime talk. I got into somewhat of an argument with my dad and cousin last night about the current state of things. I was explaining to him that the bracket of people that are myself and my sister’s age are way worse off than people his age.
My dad and cousin graduated college without nearly the costs and debt that Lauren and I got into. Everything was cheaper - even taking inflation into account. Even a 5-year difference is staggering: my sister made roughly my salary now upon graduation and was able to live in PA in a real apartment. With her salary in NJ, I live in someone's basement.
While it’s depressing and upsetting to see that my dad’s salary was chopped in half in 24 hours, to know that he had the rug pulled out from under him, at least he was working toward the light at the end of the tunnel. This generation never saw the light. Someone pulled the plug, and now we’re working toward a lot of nothing. Here’s no telling how retirement options, interest rates, and 401Ks will change. I don’t think we’re out of the woods, and I don’t see the light getting plugged back in. I envision myself always being poor, always strugging with debt. What if I choose to get married and have kids? What if I want to buy a house one day? None of this seems even fathomable, not in 5 years not in 10. It angers me.
Well, other than that, the Easter holiday was chaos as usual, but I baked a cake and topped it with fresh strawberries and home-made whip cream, thank you Olivia for the inspiration! Was going to originally do ladyfingers, but couldn't find a suitable kind. Here's the finished product:
Yum. OK, back to work, but more omorrow or tonight!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The 5K!!
Whoa.
So, yesterday.
Wow. I wish I had written this post yesterday to better capture the exhilaration of the experience. Today, I am tired. It's a deep kind of exhaustion; my muscles ache, my feet are swollen, I just want to sleep, and ohhh do I have blisters.
But yesterday morning was the best ever. It started out a little dubious. I got there entirely too early, after skype-ing with Chris and stretching out/warming up with Billy Blank's 8-minute tae bo workout. After 5 minutes at St. Peter's, I had finished registering, annnnd had an hour to kill. My sister called before 9 to talk and wish me luck, my dad sent me a text telling me he'd be on the boardwalk part of the course.
9:30 eventually arrived, and, bundled in my layers, which included my awesome free commemorative t-shirt, plus a hat and gloves, we all gathered at the start.
3...2...1!
Mile 1. Welcome to hell, Mother Nature cackled at me. Hardest mile: I struggled against a horrifyingly cold wind as we ran north along St. Louis Ave (which is about halfway between my apartment and the beach), eventually heading right and down another neighborhood street, then down Ocean Ave (which runs parallel to the boardwalk. Not easy - I slowed down to a slow jog twice, then saw we were approaching Mile 2 and the boardwalk. That was when everything got a little easier:my body was warming up, I was no longer snotting all over the place in the bitter wind, my breathing was normal. I passed my dad on the boardwalk and only had enough time to yell where he could meet me at the end. "It's freezing!!!!" he said as I passed. The end of that mile was slow again for me, and I really began underestimating myself. Yes, the fact that I showed up and ran at all was enough to be proud of, but I was fearing a really poor time at this point. I walked twice, but realized that it was pointless because it didn't make me feel warmer, less achy and it certainly didn't get me there any faster.
We exited the boardwalk and ran up NJ Ave. People in my group were beginning to slow down and walk at this point. We turned down a street and I realized I was only another few blocks away from the finish. Already?? Really?
Now, I had taken a lot of time to prep my playlist, and wanted the music to play in a certain order. Well, after the race began, I realized the good old iPod was on shuffle...so now, I didn't know what song was next. Still, I couldn't have planned this moment better: as I rounded the 2nd to last bend, the Foo Fighters came on. Everlong.
I admit I put far too much emotional stock in song, but Everlong's one of my favorite running songs as well as one that reminds me of Chris. I knew it was going to help me through. So I lept going. As I reached the last minute, the song changed again, to "Generator" (also by Foo Fighters). It seemed so right to see the finish line as the lyrics played: "I'm the generator, firing whenever you quit. Whatever it is, you go out and it's on."
The music, my mindset and my adrenaline took over completely. I forgot that I was tired, cold and achy. I sprinted to the end, pushing as hard as I could, crossed the line, got my finisher card. And then I started crying.
I don't know what came over me. The past few weeks have been a mix of busy and trying. I never thought this simple little run could give me the freedom I felt yesterday. I feel like I've left negativity behind. Because if I can do this, then I can hurdle anything.
I was a little disoriented, and thankfully got my bearings with the plethora of free food and water they offered inside. I went back to the finish line to find out my time.... 32:47.
And that's when I had my Joe Biden gaff: "HOLY SHIT!" flew out of my mouth in the presence of a priest and like 4 kids. I admit I need to work on that.
So there you have it: One of my goals for March is gleefully checked off. not only did I handle the 5K, but I finished it in under 33, just as I promised. I'm a mix of tired, peaceful and calm. Then again, I haven't really done much and it's already 1:00 on Sunday. Until next time...
So, yesterday.
Wow. I wish I had written this post yesterday to better capture the exhilaration of the experience. Today, I am tired. It's a deep kind of exhaustion; my muscles ache, my feet are swollen, I just want to sleep, and ohhh do I have blisters.
But yesterday morning was the best ever. It started out a little dubious. I got there entirely too early, after skype-ing with Chris and stretching out/warming up with Billy Blank's 8-minute tae bo workout. After 5 minutes at St. Peter's, I had finished registering, annnnd had an hour to kill. My sister called before 9 to talk and wish me luck, my dad sent me a text telling me he'd be on the boardwalk part of the course.
9:30 eventually arrived, and, bundled in my layers, which included my awesome free commemorative t-shirt, plus a hat and gloves, we all gathered at the start.
3...2...1!
Mile 1. Welcome to hell, Mother Nature cackled at me. Hardest mile: I struggled against a horrifyingly cold wind as we ran north along St. Louis Ave (which is about halfway between my apartment and the beach), eventually heading right and down another neighborhood street, then down Ocean Ave (which runs parallel to the boardwalk. Not easy - I slowed down to a slow jog twice, then saw we were approaching Mile 2 and the boardwalk. That was when everything got a little easier:my body was warming up, I was no longer snotting all over the place in the bitter wind, my breathing was normal. I passed my dad on the boardwalk and only had enough time to yell where he could meet me at the end. "It's freezing!!!!" he said as I passed. The end of that mile was slow again for me, and I really began underestimating myself. Yes, the fact that I showed up and ran at all was enough to be proud of, but I was fearing a really poor time at this point. I walked twice, but realized that it was pointless because it didn't make me feel warmer, less achy and it certainly didn't get me there any faster.
We exited the boardwalk and ran up NJ Ave. People in my group were beginning to slow down and walk at this point. We turned down a street and I realized I was only another few blocks away from the finish. Already?? Really?
Now, I had taken a lot of time to prep my playlist, and wanted the music to play in a certain order. Well, after the race began, I realized the good old iPod was on shuffle...so now, I didn't know what song was next. Still, I couldn't have planned this moment better: as I rounded the 2nd to last bend, the Foo Fighters came on. Everlong.
I admit I put far too much emotional stock in song, but Everlong's one of my favorite running songs as well as one that reminds me of Chris. I knew it was going to help me through. So I lept going. As I reached the last minute, the song changed again, to "Generator" (also by Foo Fighters). It seemed so right to see the finish line as the lyrics played: "I'm the generator, firing whenever you quit. Whatever it is, you go out and it's on."
The music, my mindset and my adrenaline took over completely. I forgot that I was tired, cold and achy. I sprinted to the end, pushing as hard as I could, crossed the line, got my finisher card. And then I started crying.
I don't know what came over me. The past few weeks have been a mix of busy and trying. I never thought this simple little run could give me the freedom I felt yesterday. I feel like I've left negativity behind. Because if I can do this, then I can hurdle anything.
I was a little disoriented, and thankfully got my bearings with the plethora of free food and water they offered inside. I went back to the finish line to find out my time.... 32:47.
And that's when I had my Joe Biden gaff: "HOLY SHIT!" flew out of my mouth in the presence of a priest and like 4 kids. I admit I need to work on that.
So there you have it: One of my goals for March is gleefully checked off. not only did I handle the 5K, but I finished it in under 33, just as I promised. I'm a mix of tired, peaceful and calm. Then again, I haven't really done much and it's already 1:00 on Sunday. Until next time...
Friday, March 26, 2010
Born to run!
I neeeeeeeed to go to bed, but, I figured I'd write a brief post.
The day is finally here! Tomorrow is the Fisherman's 5K. I am one nervous Nelly. I'm a little concerned about this race. I feel like it's a great way to "break into" running if I plan on doing more of these, because a) this race is only in its 2nd year and b) it's very small. But, the perks of being new and local also comes with major disorganization. It was my mom, who dug out what looked like a basic route for the race, but it was buried under pages of shit. And the date said 2009. I'm concerned.
I finally spoke to someone who told me all I had to do was show up at St. Peter's. I think I can handle that. I just wish it were a bit more organized. I want maps, dammit!
And, unfortunately, I'll have the weather playing against me tomorrow. 45 degrees; thankfully it'll be sunny. I've heard you ought to dress like it's ten degrees warmer out. My layers include: long pants, a tank, a tshirt,a long-sleeve shirt and two hoodies (both on the light side). Am I overdoing it? Meh. Probably yes. OH, and add a hat to that too.
After the race I'm seriously considering chopping my hair off. I need a clean slate in the worst of ways for many, many reasons. Short hair won't fix my issues, but there's nothing like the redemption of being able to start over.
Well, that's all for now. I'll be back on Sunday, I'm sure, with plenty to say!
The day is finally here! Tomorrow is the Fisherman's 5K. I am one nervous Nelly. I'm a little concerned about this race. I feel like it's a great way to "break into" running if I plan on doing more of these, because a) this race is only in its 2nd year and b) it's very small. But, the perks of being new and local also comes with major disorganization. It was my mom, who dug out what looked like a basic route for the race, but it was buried under pages of shit. And the date said 2009. I'm concerned.
I finally spoke to someone who told me all I had to do was show up at St. Peter's. I think I can handle that. I just wish it were a bit more organized. I want maps, dammit!
And, unfortunately, I'll have the weather playing against me tomorrow. 45 degrees; thankfully it'll be sunny. I've heard you ought to dress like it's ten degrees warmer out. My layers include: long pants, a tank, a tshirt,a long-sleeve shirt and two hoodies (both on the light side). Am I overdoing it? Meh. Probably yes. OH, and add a hat to that too.
After the race I'm seriously considering chopping my hair off. I need a clean slate in the worst of ways for many, many reasons. Short hair won't fix my issues, but there's nothing like the redemption of being able to start over.
Well, that's all for now. I'll be back on Sunday, I'm sure, with plenty to say!
Friday, March 19, 2010
DIY gone bad + Shamrock Shenanigans
This week flew by, but I wish I were happy about it.
It’s not that I didn’t have a blast this week – I did, actually. My friend Bri came and stayed over for two days, and a few of us went out for St. Patty’s armed with ridiculous hats and shamrock tattoos. We went to Toms River, two towns over, and had a rowdy ol’ time at a normally calm and quiet sports bar. Who knew?
Last night I spent my evening outside. God, I love the arrival of spring. Everything about my life gets a little better: the frequency of which I wear sunglasses, the drive home stuck on 206 – with the windows down and some good tunes going, the free time I have on weekends. It seems so much sweeter with the sunshine and warmth.
So, I set out to fix my bike, which has been long overdue for a seat adjustment. I even wound up calling my favorite handyman, the future brother-in-law Mike, for some advice. Unfortunately, by the time he returned my call, my bike seat’s hinge was in 5 pieces and I was running out of sunlight. I can’t reassemble it, so it’s off to the bike shop.
Except getting things fixed costs money. And I’m out of it. Granted, I think I finally have a hang of why I’m running out of it so fast (unexpected expenses, not necessarily me being careless with money. I got billed for medication that I need, so…it is what it is). So now I’m faced with the strong possibility of picking up a weekend job. I’ve already applied to one or two places, but I don’t know what will come of it. I may even consider working weekends somewhere in Point, even if it’s the boardwalk, for just the month. I’m borderline desperate.
It’ll be OK. I have to keep telling myself that.
And perhaps that’s what worries me. This is not the life I imagined. Financially, I make just enough – and that’s really OK with me. But then when emergencies happen, or $100 of work on my car pops up, or Bank of America calls me about my credit card that I owe money on, I’m suddenly flat broke, and “making just enough” is not enough.
There are people out there who focused solely on their financial future and perhaps they’re smirking to themselves right now. I’d like to emphasize that I have never been happier where I am, but I am realizing the ugly necessity that money is becoming as I get older.
I worry about my future. I really worry. Everyone assumes a happily ever after when Chris comes back to France; that he’ll magically make a fortune coming out of school and we’ll buy a perfect place together. It seems to be implied that he’ll make bank and that I’ll just be able to be taken care of based on that. Well, I’ve got news for you: I never want to depend on anyone else. Ever. I have seen too much horror to believe that I’m safe from the ugly implications of when 'for as long as we both shall live' goes wrong.
And lately I question it. I do. It’s not just a long-distance thing, it’s a getting-to-know-someone thing. And I wake up from nightmares I’ve been having lately, and I wonder if this is “one of those days” or something much bigger than I can handle.
It’s not that I didn’t have a blast this week – I did, actually. My friend Bri came and stayed over for two days, and a few of us went out for St. Patty’s armed with ridiculous hats and shamrock tattoos. We went to Toms River, two towns over, and had a rowdy ol’ time at a normally calm and quiet sports bar. Who knew?
Last night I spent my evening outside. God, I love the arrival of spring. Everything about my life gets a little better: the frequency of which I wear sunglasses, the drive home stuck on 206 – with the windows down and some good tunes going, the free time I have on weekends. It seems so much sweeter with the sunshine and warmth.
So, I set out to fix my bike, which has been long overdue for a seat adjustment. I even wound up calling my favorite handyman, the future brother-in-law Mike, for some advice. Unfortunately, by the time he returned my call, my bike seat’s hinge was in 5 pieces and I was running out of sunlight. I can’t reassemble it, so it’s off to the bike shop.
Except getting things fixed costs money. And I’m out of it. Granted, I think I finally have a hang of why I’m running out of it so fast (unexpected expenses, not necessarily me being careless with money. I got billed for medication that I need, so…it is what it is). So now I’m faced with the strong possibility of picking up a weekend job. I’ve already applied to one or two places, but I don’t know what will come of it. I may even consider working weekends somewhere in Point, even if it’s the boardwalk, for just the month. I’m borderline desperate.
It’ll be OK. I have to keep telling myself that.
And perhaps that’s what worries me. This is not the life I imagined. Financially, I make just enough – and that’s really OK with me. But then when emergencies happen, or $100 of work on my car pops up, or Bank of America calls me about my credit card that I owe money on, I’m suddenly flat broke, and “making just enough” is not enough.
There are people out there who focused solely on their financial future and perhaps they’re smirking to themselves right now. I’d like to emphasize that I have never been happier where I am, but I am realizing the ugly necessity that money is becoming as I get older.
I worry about my future. I really worry. Everyone assumes a happily ever after when Chris comes back to France; that he’ll magically make a fortune coming out of school and we’ll buy a perfect place together. It seems to be implied that he’ll make bank and that I’ll just be able to be taken care of based on that. Well, I’ve got news for you: I never want to depend on anyone else. Ever. I have seen too much horror to believe that I’m safe from the ugly implications of when 'for as long as we both shall live' goes wrong.
And lately I question it. I do. It’s not just a long-distance thing, it’s a getting-to-know-someone thing. And I wake up from nightmares I’ve been having lately, and I wonder if this is “one of those days” or something much bigger than I can handle.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
The absolute must-needed weekend
The week from hell passed last week and I'm looking at even more stress ahead.
But talk about a weekend. I feel so refreshed and caught up with the important things: my friends, my sense of adventure, my abilty to just let loose and have fun.
On Friday, I went to Queens to see my dear friend Zach, who just moved to the borough. I was a little wary - an apartment in the city, in Queens no less, but... it was the cutest place. His kitchen flowed very nicely into the living room. All of it was simply and tastefully decorated. We had delish dinner and an incredible breakfast, conquered our bad habit of falling asleep way too early. SUCH a great day.
Saturday was a great adventure, well-spent tearing up the Borgota in Atlantic City. I've never been one for the casinos - but our one of our favorite new dive bands was playing a late show at Gypsy Bar.
I'll be posting pictures sooner rather than later, but I assure you: these guys ROCKED the house. They're a cover band, but a cover band who picks you up and turns your head upside down. In short, Colleen and I danced our woes - and STRESS - away.
And as if it couldn't get any better - what a DAY we had today!!! I ran outside (my first outdoor run...with mixed results. I mean' I'm not terrible at it, at the very least!), got sunshine, wore capris and drove with the windows down. And I felt happier.
And now, to watch the Oscars. A perfect end to a much-needed weekend. Bring it on, Monday Blues... I'm ready!
But talk about a weekend. I feel so refreshed and caught up with the important things: my friends, my sense of adventure, my abilty to just let loose and have fun.
On Friday, I went to Queens to see my dear friend Zach, who just moved to the borough. I was a little wary - an apartment in the city, in Queens no less, but... it was the cutest place. His kitchen flowed very nicely into the living room. All of it was simply and tastefully decorated. We had delish dinner and an incredible breakfast, conquered our bad habit of falling asleep way too early. SUCH a great day.
Saturday was a great adventure, well-spent tearing up the Borgota in Atlantic City. I've never been one for the casinos - but our one of our favorite new dive bands was playing a late show at Gypsy Bar.
I'll be posting pictures sooner rather than later, but I assure you: these guys ROCKED the house. They're a cover band, but a cover band who picks you up and turns your head upside down. In short, Colleen and I danced our woes - and STRESS - away.
And as if it couldn't get any better - what a DAY we had today!!! I ran outside (my first outdoor run...with mixed results. I mean' I'm not terrible at it, at the very least!), got sunshine, wore capris and drove with the windows down. And I felt happier.
And now, to watch the Oscars. A perfect end to a much-needed weekend. Bring it on, Monday Blues... I'm ready!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Don't sweat the small stuff.
Been a rough couple of days, however - it's clear to me now that I need an attitude adjustment. Big time.
I've been unnecessarily negative and find myself in Complaint Mode a lot. I got annoyed over Skype-ing with Chris and how our schedules really don't overlap. I got mad at traffic, my car, the price of everything. I took my stress out on a salty bag of chips yesterday, then felt like crap....hmmm, I wonder why!!
My clean eating book came yesterday. I think it's a step in the right direction. I have a lot to live for when I really think about it. I am relativeluy healthy right now. People near and dear to me are not as lucky, whether it!s cancer or just a lack of taking care of themselves.
I have neglected my body for way too long, and while I know I'm doing better, I need to try harder all around: yes, a better diet, but a better attitude has to come with it. I'm tired of trashing my body and my outlook. More later.
I've been unnecessarily negative and find myself in Complaint Mode a lot. I got annoyed over Skype-ing with Chris and how our schedules really don't overlap. I got mad at traffic, my car, the price of everything. I took my stress out on a salty bag of chips yesterday, then felt like crap....hmmm, I wonder why!!
My clean eating book came yesterday. I think it's a step in the right direction. I have a lot to live for when I really think about it. I am relativeluy healthy right now. People near and dear to me are not as lucky, whether it!s cancer or just a lack of taking care of themselves.
I have neglected my body for way too long, and while I know I'm doing better, I need to try harder all around: yes, a better diet, but a better attitude has to come with it. I'm tired of trashing my body and my outlook. More later.
Monday, March 1, 2010
And as the years go by...
I like thinking about anniversaries, age and numbers. I get a little hung up on it, but I am so fascinated by the idea that time truly is the measurement of change.
Today, for instance, is two months until my 24th birthday. Today marks one year from the first time I woke up with health insurance that didn't belong to my parents. Today, rent is due. I wrote my tenth rent check. Six more weeks marks my one-year anniversary of packin' up and moving out.
I am continually fooled by time. For that, I'm grateful. I keep thinking I've learned all I need to know, and my experiences prove me wrong every single time. That's a life well-lived.
I need to sleep before I start rambling like some philosophy major. I wrote tonight for the sake of writing; I'll make a little more sense tomorrow, maybe. Cheers!
Today, for instance, is two months until my 24th birthday. Today marks one year from the first time I woke up with health insurance that didn't belong to my parents. Today, rent is due. I wrote my tenth rent check. Six more weeks marks my one-year anniversary of packin' up and moving out.
I am continually fooled by time. For that, I'm grateful. I keep thinking I've learned all I need to know, and my experiences prove me wrong every single time. That's a life well-lived.
I need to sleep before I start rambling like some philosophy major. I wrote tonight for the sake of writing; I'll make a little more sense tomorrow, maybe. Cheers!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
SEE YA LATER, February.
Febraury is going... going... gone.
Thank God: worst month ever.
I'm revising my goal list for March and taking out "learning something new." I mean, there's plenty of room for discovery, but the best kind of discoveries are the ones you don't plan.
Which means I'll have the big 5 - a nice round number - to focus on this month.
After another 4 day weekend, I'm not looking forward to work, but I figure I'm going to attack Monday like it's no one's business. I'm talking a breakfast of rolled oats and coffee type of morning, an out-the-door before seven and checkin' emails by 8 kind of morning.
I know we're supposed to get "more inclement weather" this week, but I say this: here's to March. Here's to sunshine, skirt weather, sunglasses. To baseball (!), bike rides, to the first nice day at the boardwalk. Hang in there: we've got this.
Thank God: worst month ever.
I'm revising my goal list for March and taking out "learning something new." I mean, there's plenty of room for discovery, but the best kind of discoveries are the ones you don't plan.
Which means I'll have the big 5 - a nice round number - to focus on this month.
After another 4 day weekend, I'm not looking forward to work, but I figure I'm going to attack Monday like it's no one's business. I'm talking a breakfast of rolled oats and coffee type of morning, an out-the-door before seven and checkin' emails by 8 kind of morning.
I know we're supposed to get "more inclement weather" this week, but I say this: here's to March. Here's to sunshine, skirt weather, sunglasses. To baseball (!), bike rides, to the first nice day at the boardwalk. Hang in there: we've got this.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Gimme shelter
Another day working from home. Really? Really?
I tried to go to work. Why? Because I am a lemming of the American work ethic. I feel guilty for not showing up. So I nearly kill myself to get to my job.
I made it about ten minutes into my commute before I wisely decided to turn tail. It wasn't the roads I was scared of: it was other drivers. I showed up at my mom's in full-on tears. She showered me in hugs and reassurance and said, "want a waffle?" and everything was OK again. I did a little work from home, then crawled into my old bed and didn't move for two hours. Mom, you rock.
Hard to believe that we were in Boston a week ago.
I am more than happy to say goodbye to February. With that in mind, these are my goals for March:
1. Run my 5k in less than 33 minutes. I know I can do it - but I need to push myself to do it. That means committing to running outdoors, learning the race route and continuing my runs at a consistent pace instead of lazing out.
2. Read more. I haven't leisure read in a while and that's a damn shame. I'm pretty bummed: JFK's book, Why England Slept, doesn't seem to be in any local library, and it's $50 on amazon.com.
3. Write. I am itching with inspiration, especially in light on visiting grandma. I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to share, but I need to get back in the habit.
4. Cut back on Facebook and Twitter. I'm talking three times a week, tops. I spend wayyyyy too much time there. Instead, I'm gonna opt to spend time making a scrapbook for my trip in April.
5. Learn something new. Maybe I should think about sewing. Since I seem to ruin my clothes a lot.
and lastly: 6. Enjoy my meals. I have been rushing breakfast more and more. Hate hate hate hate doing that. I don't taste my coffee. I'm wondering if I even like coffee anymore. I really don't know: it could just be the psychological fix. I have some things to think about: maybe I'll switch to tea.
Time for bed. Saturdays and Sundays.... the best days.
I tried to go to work. Why? Because I am a lemming of the American work ethic. I feel guilty for not showing up. So I nearly kill myself to get to my job.
I made it about ten minutes into my commute before I wisely decided to turn tail. It wasn't the roads I was scared of: it was other drivers. I showed up at my mom's in full-on tears. She showered me in hugs and reassurance and said, "want a waffle?" and everything was OK again. I did a little work from home, then crawled into my old bed and didn't move for two hours. Mom, you rock.
Hard to believe that we were in Boston a week ago.
I am more than happy to say goodbye to February. With that in mind, these are my goals for March:
1. Run my 5k in less than 33 minutes. I know I can do it - but I need to push myself to do it. That means committing to running outdoors, learning the race route and continuing my runs at a consistent pace instead of lazing out.
2. Read more. I haven't leisure read in a while and that's a damn shame. I'm pretty bummed: JFK's book, Why England Slept, doesn't seem to be in any local library, and it's $50 on amazon.com.
3. Write. I am itching with inspiration, especially in light on visiting grandma. I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to share, but I need to get back in the habit.
4. Cut back on Facebook and Twitter. I'm talking three times a week, tops. I spend wayyyyy too much time there. Instead, I'm gonna opt to spend time making a scrapbook for my trip in April.
5. Learn something new. Maybe I should think about sewing. Since I seem to ruin my clothes a lot.
and lastly: 6. Enjoy my meals. I have been rushing breakfast more and more. Hate hate hate hate doing that. I don't taste my coffee. I'm wondering if I even like coffee anymore. I really don't know: it could just be the psychological fix. I have some things to think about: maybe I'll switch to tea.
Time for bed. Saturdays and Sundays.... the best days.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The 5k Playlist + Gym Woes
Good morning. Welcome to working from home, part 702. February's final "F*** you" has arrived in the form of heavy, wet snow. Another 12 inches expected on the shore. The scary part of it is how the storm moved: it was expected to graze the shore and move north east (but stay north of shore counties. Instead it kinda swung down, positioned itself directly over Jersey, then moved northward. And don't say global warming doesn't exist. We've completely changed the way storms move now. But maybe the worst implication of global warming is the creation of the word "snow-icane." Next up: snowquakes, snow-namis and snow-fires. It's true.
So, I'm working on the final playlist for my 5K. This will be simple, since I listen to the same 12 songs to begin with. I'm going to post the list next time: would love to hear feedback or your favorite "kickass" running songs.
Onto my gym woes. I'm a member of Retro Fitness. I chose the gym for the no-frill approach (it's $20 a month, which fits my broke-ass budget nicely) and I knew I needed a gym to stay healthy (and not gain any weight) during my very, very sedentary months. And it's worked. I haven't lost a ton of weight per se, but this is the first winter I can remember not gaining weight, and I'm happy with that. Thus, Retro Fitness is serving its purpose.
On most days I go to "my" gym located in Kingston, which is about 5 minutes from work, which makes it perfect for my routine. Every now and then I'll go home after work then go to the gym: the closest one is in Brick.
My roommate recently became a Retro Fitness member. Her words describe the scene perfectly: "I walked into the gym and I was alarmed."
"Alarmed" is the perfect word for it. This is not Average Joe's gym. This is not even Fitness Lovers' gym. This gym is dominated by meatheads and fashionistas. The former are in admirably great shape, but thrash around rudely on the weights and don't have ANY sense of etiquette: wipe down the machine when you're done - it's disgusting!! The entire gym smells like sweat the second you're in the door.
While I can at least respect the He-Mans and She-ras because they're in such good shape, I think I hate the fashionistas the very most. Girls who don't even tie their hair up when the work out, who are there for show. They're wearing coordinated outfits...or sometimes just a sports bra and shorts. I'm wearing my ratty t-shirt from high school, and these bitches match earrings with shoelaces. And on a personal note, it's just uncomfortable for me to be the biggest person at the gym, and I'm not even morbidly obese.
Bear in mind: this is Brick's location exclusively. I love, love, love the gym in Kingston; CK's mom works at Retro in DE and she describes it as "pristine and gorgeous." Which points me to something I have always said: There's something a little "funny" about people who live in Bricktown.
So, I'm working on the final playlist for my 5K. This will be simple, since I listen to the same 12 songs to begin with. I'm going to post the list next time: would love to hear feedback or your favorite "kickass" running songs.
Onto my gym woes. I'm a member of Retro Fitness. I chose the gym for the no-frill approach (it's $20 a month, which fits my broke-ass budget nicely) and I knew I needed a gym to stay healthy (and not gain any weight) during my very, very sedentary months. And it's worked. I haven't lost a ton of weight per se, but this is the first winter I can remember not gaining weight, and I'm happy with that. Thus, Retro Fitness is serving its purpose.
On most days I go to "my" gym located in Kingston, which is about 5 minutes from work, which makes it perfect for my routine. Every now and then I'll go home after work then go to the gym: the closest one is in Brick.
My roommate recently became a Retro Fitness member. Her words describe the scene perfectly: "I walked into the gym and I was alarmed."
"Alarmed" is the perfect word for it. This is not Average Joe's gym. This is not even Fitness Lovers' gym. This gym is dominated by meatheads and fashionistas. The former are in admirably great shape, but thrash around rudely on the weights and don't have ANY sense of etiquette: wipe down the machine when you're done - it's disgusting!! The entire gym smells like sweat the second you're in the door.
While I can at least respect the He-Mans and She-ras because they're in such good shape, I think I hate the fashionistas the very most. Girls who don't even tie their hair up when the work out, who are there for show. They're wearing coordinated outfits...or sometimes just a sports bra and shorts. I'm wearing my ratty t-shirt from high school, and these bitches match earrings with shoelaces. And on a personal note, it's just uncomfortable for me to be the biggest person at the gym, and I'm not even morbidly obese.
Bear in mind: this is Brick's location exclusively. I love, love, love the gym in Kingston; CK's mom works at Retro in DE and she describes it as "pristine and gorgeous." Which points me to something I have always said: There's something a little "funny" about people who live in Bricktown.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tres bien!
Well, most of you already know the good news: I booked my flight to Paris yesterday!
I honestly can’t believe it was that easy. I always tell people the same thing in regard to travel: “When I had the time to do it, I didn’t have the money. Now that I make money, I don’t have the time.”
And, of course, there was the whole putting off the passport thing.
And suddenly, here I am: passport and flight booked? I really, really can’t wrap my head around it.
So! I’ll be flying out on the 26th and leaving May 3rd. Yes: I’ll turn 24 in Paris.
In classic “me” form, I blabbed to the whole freaking world when it happened. I think the best reaction wasn’t from Chris, but my mom, who called me at work in near tears. It was really adorable.
That’s enough blabbing about Paris. Sixty days to go. I promise these posts will start becoming more goal-oriented and less silly!
I honestly can’t believe it was that easy. I always tell people the same thing in regard to travel: “When I had the time to do it, I didn’t have the money. Now that I make money, I don’t have the time.”
And, of course, there was the whole putting off the passport thing.
And suddenly, here I am: passport and flight booked? I really, really can’t wrap my head around it.
So! I’ll be flying out on the 26th and leaving May 3rd. Yes: I’ll turn 24 in Paris.
In classic “me” form, I blabbed to the whole freaking world when it happened. I think the best reaction wasn’t from Chris, but my mom, who called me at work in near tears. It was really adorable.
That’s enough blabbing about Paris. Sixty days to go. I promise these posts will start becoming more goal-oriented and less silly!
Monday, February 22, 2010
It's here!!
One pretty great thing happened today:
I'm a plane ticket away. And hey, I could totally go to Canada if I wanted to. And it's good for ten years. Ten years!! I'll be old by then. :)
More tomorrow, perhaps. I have a lot I want to get done; I still haven't given up anything for Lent, and I didn't go running. Instead I went shopping, and you know what? It rocked. I <3 retail therapy.
I'm a plane ticket away. And hey, I could totally go to Canada if I wanted to. And it's good for ten years. Ten years!! I'll be old by then. :)
More tomorrow, perhaps. I have a lot I want to get done; I still haven't given up anything for Lent, and I didn't go running. Instead I went shopping, and you know what? It rocked. I <3 retail therapy.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
A Wolf Pack Takes on Boston
Wow, what a weekend.
Somehow, I have to start at the very end of today before I start from the beginning. As I hugged my mother goodbye - that extra-nice, mutual mother-daughter "moment" - we both exclaimed, "This was the BEST weekend, thank you!" My dad, bewildered, said, "Man, grandma's cancer is the best thing that's happened to you."
In a way it's eerily true. I'm not here to write "my grandma has cancer" and then spend time feeling sorry about it. I am a firm believer in the old saying: It is what it is. And true, the last 72 hours were probably the last time I'll be visiting her.
She is truly remarkable. A writer at heart, she typed up her family stories - she has 91 and a half years of them, to boot - and can still tell you about the time she was attending Catholic school at age 6, and how her mother yelled at the wretched nun who hit my grandmother with a ruler. She still remembers her father as "a giant of a man, six foot three, with the broadest shoulders you've seen" - except her father passed away before she was a teenager. She ought to have written a novel. Her mind is not sharp these days, but the visuals it creates when she's telling a story is wonderful.
I will miss her the most for that very reason. I like to think that's where I get my knack for writing. To lose the person I really "leveled with" is hard. And the cancer. It's beyond me how someone who does not smoke or drink dies of throat cancer. There are a million and one factors in this illness that I won't discuss and we'll probably never truly know.
On to BOSTON! You know the trip is going to be a good one if there's Hangover references the whole time. My mother, sister and I began calling ourselves the "wolf pack," and made enough inside jokes to last us years.
The sad fact of Boston is that we never get to do anything "touristy" when we visit. We had an extra day on this trip, and got to bounce around the Kennedy museum on Saturday, which was the coolest ever. I got lo learn a little more about JFK than I already knew - his year at the American Embassy in Paris (!), his background in writing, his time in the navy, and the fact that he'd written a book called "Why England Slept" which analyzed Europe's lack of response to Germany's uprising in WW2. I actually forgot what a history geek I was. I need to read more books, and you can bet I'm starting with "Why England Slept."
They expanded the wing on the lovely Jackie O. I remember thinking to myself, "I want to be her." I rescind that. Although she was beautiful, smart and brought so much art and culture to the White House, her disposition seemed almost too breathy and housewifey. She was not the forward-thinking woman I thought her to be. But it was the early sixties, and she had an image to hold up, and part of that image was dutiful wife and mother. And I understand that.
I decided I don't want to be her, but I'd give up all my possessions to dress like her. A stunning wardrobe. So jealous!
After that, an incredible lunch followed - well, I should say an incredible dessert followed! I had some of the best homemade fro-yo ever at a tiny soda fountain called Cabot's. Loved the vintage feel (and the glassware)! Lunch itself wasn't impressive, bit Lauren and I each stuffed ourselves with sundaes. After that, we had an incredible time driving through Lexington and Concord, and made it to the North bridge, where the "Shot Heard Round the World" was fired. Loved this tiny memorial to the British soldiers, though:
It was gross and muddy on the way, and we did have a "man down." Sorry, Laur!
And I can't forget about the cosmos. When all was said and done, after every delish meal and fun little visit to cheer Grandma up, the wolf pack found themselves back at the hotel bar, chatting with our new "friend" Ram. He makes the best cosmo you'll ever have. Mmm, mmm, mmm.
Although we hit zero traffic home, it was an exhausting trip and very difficult to leave. I know it's not my last adventure in Beantown, but it was a rare kind of weekend in itself. Back to reality tomorrow.
Somehow, I have to start at the very end of today before I start from the beginning. As I hugged my mother goodbye - that extra-nice, mutual mother-daughter "moment" - we both exclaimed, "This was the BEST weekend, thank you!" My dad, bewildered, said, "Man, grandma's cancer is the best thing that's happened to you."
In a way it's eerily true. I'm not here to write "my grandma has cancer" and then spend time feeling sorry about it. I am a firm believer in the old saying: It is what it is. And true, the last 72 hours were probably the last time I'll be visiting her.
She is truly remarkable. A writer at heart, she typed up her family stories - she has 91 and a half years of them, to boot - and can still tell you about the time she was attending Catholic school at age 6, and how her mother yelled at the wretched nun who hit my grandmother with a ruler. She still remembers her father as "a giant of a man, six foot three, with the broadest shoulders you've seen" - except her father passed away before she was a teenager. She ought to have written a novel. Her mind is not sharp these days, but the visuals it creates when she's telling a story is wonderful.
I will miss her the most for that very reason. I like to think that's where I get my knack for writing. To lose the person I really "leveled with" is hard. And the cancer. It's beyond me how someone who does not smoke or drink dies of throat cancer. There are a million and one factors in this illness that I won't discuss and we'll probably never truly know.
On to BOSTON! You know the trip is going to be a good one if there's Hangover references the whole time. My mother, sister and I began calling ourselves the "wolf pack," and made enough inside jokes to last us years.
The sad fact of Boston is that we never get to do anything "touristy" when we visit. We had an extra day on this trip, and got to bounce around the Kennedy museum on Saturday, which was the coolest ever. I got lo learn a little more about JFK than I already knew - his year at the American Embassy in Paris (!), his background in writing, his time in the navy, and the fact that he'd written a book called "Why England Slept" which analyzed Europe's lack of response to Germany's uprising in WW2. I actually forgot what a history geek I was. I need to read more books, and you can bet I'm starting with "Why England Slept."
They expanded the wing on the lovely Jackie O. I remember thinking to myself, "I want to be her." I rescind that. Although she was beautiful, smart and brought so much art and culture to the White House, her disposition seemed almost too breathy and housewifey. She was not the forward-thinking woman I thought her to be. But it was the early sixties, and she had an image to hold up, and part of that image was dutiful wife and mother. And I understand that.
I decided I don't want to be her, but I'd give up all my possessions to dress like her. A stunning wardrobe. So jealous!
After that, an incredible lunch followed - well, I should say an incredible dessert followed! I had some of the best homemade fro-yo ever at a tiny soda fountain called Cabot's. Loved the vintage feel (and the glassware)! Lunch itself wasn't impressive, bit Lauren and I each stuffed ourselves with sundaes. After that, we had an incredible time driving through Lexington and Concord, and made it to the North bridge, where the "Shot Heard Round the World" was fired. Loved this tiny memorial to the British soldiers, though:
It was gross and muddy on the way, and we did have a "man down." Sorry, Laur!
And I can't forget about the cosmos. When all was said and done, after every delish meal and fun little visit to cheer Grandma up, the wolf pack found themselves back at the hotel bar, chatting with our new "friend" Ram. He makes the best cosmo you'll ever have. Mmm, mmm, mmm.
Although we hit zero traffic home, it was an exhausting trip and very difficult to leave. I know it's not my last adventure in Beantown, but it was a rare kind of weekend in itself. Back to reality tomorrow.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Boston Pregame
I sound like I'm in college with that title, ha!
I cooked my brains out today, and I am HAPPY about that! I'm making dinner for my two favorite ladies in the world (my mom and sister) before we go off to Boston tomorrow. At first I was only going to make the main course - turkey meatloaf - but then I thought I'd fiddle around with a side dish, too. Then I thought, I should make a BBQ glaze for the meatloaf. And then I made a small lunch with some fabulous flavor.
I wish I had pictures of any of these things. Bear with me.
The turkey meatloaf was run-of-mill. Ground turkey, an egg, a handful of breadcrumbs, s&p, ketchup, a finely chopped green pepper, garlic and a generous shake of steak seasoning. My last meatloaf went overboard on the breadcrumbs, and made it taste savory (or, as my Dad said, like stuffing). I want the meat and the flavor, so I tried not to go nuts with them this time!
I love my side dish. I mixed up olive oil, lemon juice, s&p, and garlic chunks, then brushed the liquid over chopped zukes, yellow squash and sweet peppers. Then I made a tomato basil pesto (I do love my dad's pesto, but sometimes I can't wrap my head around the green).by blending sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, basil and a little olive oil. That went on top of the veggies, and, the "piece de resistance" - crumbled goat cheese on top, back into the oven for 20 minutes. Glory.
The BBQ sauce was FUN to make - like tossing everything into a bowl and hoping for the best! I used ketchup as a base, then evened it out a few shakes of soy sauce, hot sauce, brown sugar, apple butter, pumpkin butter and cinnamon. I have practically no honey left, so I had to find a way to compensate. I let it all simmer in a pan for about half an hour. It's not terrible. But I may be a little more formulaic next time. ;)
This is EXCITING! I'm not exactly a great cook by ANY means, but it calms me down and it makes me feel like I'm somewhat grown up. I should start packing it all up to get ready to go to my mom's. I'll hopefully blog from Bahhhston next time!
I cooked my brains out today, and I am HAPPY about that! I'm making dinner for my two favorite ladies in the world (my mom and sister) before we go off to Boston tomorrow. At first I was only going to make the main course - turkey meatloaf - but then I thought I'd fiddle around with a side dish, too. Then I thought, I should make a BBQ glaze for the meatloaf. And then I made a small lunch with some fabulous flavor.
I wish I had pictures of any of these things. Bear with me.
The turkey meatloaf was run-of-mill. Ground turkey, an egg, a handful of breadcrumbs, s&p, ketchup, a finely chopped green pepper, garlic and a generous shake of steak seasoning. My last meatloaf went overboard on the breadcrumbs, and made it taste savory (or, as my Dad said, like stuffing). I want the meat and the flavor, so I tried not to go nuts with them this time!
I love my side dish. I mixed up olive oil, lemon juice, s&p, and garlic chunks, then brushed the liquid over chopped zukes, yellow squash and sweet peppers. Then I made a tomato basil pesto (I do love my dad's pesto, but sometimes I can't wrap my head around the green).by blending sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, basil and a little olive oil. That went on top of the veggies, and, the "piece de resistance" - crumbled goat cheese on top, back into the oven for 20 minutes. Glory.
The BBQ sauce was FUN to make - like tossing everything into a bowl and hoping for the best! I used ketchup as a base, then evened it out a few shakes of soy sauce, hot sauce, brown sugar, apple butter, pumpkin butter and cinnamon. I have practically no honey left, so I had to find a way to compensate. I let it all simmer in a pan for about half an hour. It's not terrible. But I may be a little more formulaic next time. ;)
This is EXCITING! I'm not exactly a great cook by ANY means, but it calms me down and it makes me feel like I'm somewhat grown up. I should start packing it all up to get ready to go to my mom's. I'll hopefully blog from Bahhhston next time!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Weekend Re-cap
Things are finally beginning to pick up again at the magazine, which is why I haven’t really posted.
So, it looks like the worst of February might be over (well, OK, there’s ten days of the month left, but if I can suffer through the first 18, and get snow dumped on my twice in the process, I think I’ll be OK).
Anyway, might I just say for now, that, yes, its OK to be a grown-up at Medieval Times:
My two best friends. They’re probably going to give me ell about this. I will likely get phonecalls about “misrepresentation on the internet” or something. It’s out of love, ladies, I promise.
Also, there are only about 5 weeks left until the Fisherman’s 5K! I need to stop running in my comfort zone – generally, I don’t break 3 miles in 30 minutes. Ten-minute miles are a good start, but I know I can do better. So, in honor of Lent and the “clean slate” it brings, I’m focusing harder on improving my mile time this week and next. By the way, has anyone “given up” anything for Lent?
Travel news! I leave for Boston soon! I’m sure my next post will be delightfully Beantown-inspired. For now, back to work.
So, it looks like the worst of February might be over (well, OK, there’s ten days of the month left, but if I can suffer through the first 18, and get snow dumped on my twice in the process, I think I’ll be OK).
Anyway, might I just say for now, that, yes, its OK to be a grown-up at Medieval Times:
My two best friends. They’re probably going to give me ell about this. I will likely get phonecalls about “misrepresentation on the internet” or something. It’s out of love, ladies, I promise.
Also, there are only about 5 weeks left until the Fisherman’s 5K! I need to stop running in my comfort zone – generally, I don’t break 3 miles in 30 minutes. Ten-minute miles are a good start, but I know I can do better. So, in honor of Lent and the “clean slate” it brings, I’m focusing harder on improving my mile time this week and next. By the way, has anyone “given up” anything for Lent?
Travel news! I leave for Boston soon! I’m sure my next post will be delightfully Beantown-inspired. For now, back to work.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Getting Old and liking it.
Since last post, things seem monumentally better. I guess it’s just a notion of finding something to hold onto, finding comfort in familiarity.
On this side of the Atlantic, things are also pretty great. I am hoping that Wednesday’s snowstorm, that annihilated Jersey with another 18 inches, is the last of severe winter weather (I know we’re getting a few inches on Monday, but I couldn’t give a shit). I’m honestly so happy to be at work today and was thrilled when my roommate and I shoveled out and left the apartment. I hate being cooped up.
Yesterday was a rescue mission/good deed day for my mom, who did not luck out during Snow-mageddon II. There’s an old pine tree that has been lurking dangerously above our house – above my old bedroom, actually! – for years. Whenever we had a bad storm in the summertime, I refused to sleep in my room; I was too scared the tree would fall over, hit my room and kill me.
My mom was shoveling on Wednesday night. She pulled her car to the back half of our driveway, shoveled a bit, then went inside. She says she was inside for about ten minutes when she heard a loud CRACK.
That’s her car. The branch fell between her car and the house. Luckiest. Woman. Alive.
She was somewhat of a wreck for the rest of the night. So on Thursday I hurried over with the intention of making or going out for dinner. Mom sort of beat me to the punch on that, but I did make a scrumptious salad. That counts, right?
Today has been nothing short of wonderful. I got these delivered to work today:
I’m really not into Valentine’s Day, but, I have to admit, I LOVE them, and I love that I can show them off. They’re perfect. And it’s really nice having a significant other for the holiday. Even if I really don’t care :P
I checked my bank account to discover my TAX REFUND went in, meaning I have more money than I can possibly remember in my bank account. I’ve paid all my bills for the month, put what I need to put into savings and written out my monthly budget. Can I just say how good that feels? I probably sound old and lame, but I love being financially responsible for myself. I love the independence of payday, of paying for everything I have, even if it sucks so much sometimes. It’s a true point of pride.
I’m also really looking forward to the weekend, but I’m sure there’ll be more about that next time.
On this side of the Atlantic, things are also pretty great. I am hoping that Wednesday’s snowstorm, that annihilated Jersey with another 18 inches, is the last of severe winter weather (I know we’re getting a few inches on Monday, but I couldn’t give a shit). I’m honestly so happy to be at work today and was thrilled when my roommate and I shoveled out and left the apartment. I hate being cooped up.
Yesterday was a rescue mission/good deed day for my mom, who did not luck out during Snow-mageddon II. There’s an old pine tree that has been lurking dangerously above our house – above my old bedroom, actually! – for years. Whenever we had a bad storm in the summertime, I refused to sleep in my room; I was too scared the tree would fall over, hit my room and kill me.
My mom was shoveling on Wednesday night. She pulled her car to the back half of our driveway, shoveled a bit, then went inside. She says she was inside for about ten minutes when she heard a loud CRACK.
That’s her car. The branch fell between her car and the house. Luckiest. Woman. Alive.
She was somewhat of a wreck for the rest of the night. So on Thursday I hurried over with the intention of making or going out for dinner. Mom sort of beat me to the punch on that, but I did make a scrumptious salad. That counts, right?
Today has been nothing short of wonderful. I got these delivered to work today:
I’m really not into Valentine’s Day, but, I have to admit, I LOVE them, and I love that I can show them off. They’re perfect. And it’s really nice having a significant other for the holiday. Even if I really don’t care :P
I checked my bank account to discover my TAX REFUND went in, meaning I have more money than I can possibly remember in my bank account. I’ve paid all my bills for the month, put what I need to put into savings and written out my monthly budget. Can I just say how good that feels? I probably sound old and lame, but I love being financially responsible for myself. I love the independence of payday, of paying for everything I have, even if it sucks so much sometimes. It’s a true point of pride.
I’m also really looking forward to the weekend, but I’m sure there’ll be more about that next time.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
...in lonely frustration of the life you deserved.
Any man is capable of reinventing himself. My father was fired from Waste Management a year ago this week, after 20 years with the company. My parents hover precariously in the “paycheck to paycheck" zone, sometimes, but they're getting by. My dad, at 55, is rebuilding, reinventing. My father and I don’t always get along, but I HAVE to respect someone who didn't give in.
I will not, will not, will not, share in this misery. That’s not what people do. They support each other: yes. And I will be supportive.
That phone call last night… I’ve heard it before. And I am scared. The only other person I felt I loved - he had a personal crisis about grad school, just like this. It turned into a meltdown. It turned into a coldness. He decided the best way to continue was misery. And cutting off everyone who loved him. Myself included.
I don’t believe that history’s going to repeat itself, but I do know my tolerance for self-pity has changed rapidly since then. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.
In other news. More snow tomorrow. I'm so happy I could shoot myself in the foot.
My mom teased me this weekend. "You used to love snow." I guess I'm getting older. Or maybe just more disillusioned.
I will not, will not, will not, share in this misery. That’s not what people do. They support each other: yes. And I will be supportive.
That phone call last night… I’ve heard it before. And I am scared. The only other person I felt I loved - he had a personal crisis about grad school, just like this. It turned into a meltdown. It turned into a coldness. He decided the best way to continue was misery. And cutting off everyone who loved him. Myself included.
I don’t believe that history’s going to repeat itself, but I do know my tolerance for self-pity has changed rapidly since then. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.
In other news. More snow tomorrow. I'm so happy I could shoot myself in the foot.
My mom teased me this weekend. "You used to love snow." I guess I'm getting older. Or maybe just more disillusioned.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Snowed in
Well, all of my weekend plans, minus being able to go out briefly last night, are most obviously canceled. No post office. No Medieval Times. Nothin'.
When I get bored, I tend to do two things: feel bad about having nothing to do and overeat. I know. My goal for today is to avoid both. I accept that today might not be terribly productive. I might even be a little lazy today...and I'm gonna like it, dammit ;)
And, I'll make good food choices. I have plenty of food to eat and cook so maybe I'll so that in a bit.
I did take a quick walk in the blizzard, shoveled out my walk and driveway (only to have most of it un-done in a matter of minutes. Here's what it's like in PPB:
That street was plowed at around 8 this morning...
I thought this was pretty.
Awwwww!
And lastly: the anchor is buried! I live in walking distance of a great place called Captain Ed's. The restaurant has this huge anchor outside, and, well, look !
Stay warm and safe, everyone. I don't know about you, but I need summertime ASAP.
When I get bored, I tend to do two things: feel bad about having nothing to do and overeat. I know. My goal for today is to avoid both. I accept that today might not be terribly productive. I might even be a little lazy today...and I'm gonna like it, dammit ;)
And, I'll make good food choices. I have plenty of food to eat and cook so maybe I'll so that in a bit.
I did take a quick walk in the blizzard, shoveled out my walk and driveway (only to have most of it un-done in a matter of minutes. Here's what it's like in PPB:
That street was plowed at around 8 this morning...
I thought this was pretty.
Awwwww!
And lastly: the anchor is buried! I live in walking distance of a great place called Captain Ed's. The restaurant has this huge anchor outside, and, well, look !
Stay warm and safe, everyone. I don't know about you, but I need summertime ASAP.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Day 4
Know what I hate?
The snow. The snow explicitly ruining weekend plans without actually giving me the OK to leave work early. I get to suffer on the panicked commute home AND suffer stuck inside tomorrow.
I hate being stuck, no matter who I’m with. The idea that I had no choice but to stay put freaks me out big time.
But come hell or high water, I am going to accomplish something this weekend – I’m completing my passport application. I’ll walk to the damn post office if need be.
I also want to look into this:
Chris sent me this today, with only this semi-vague explanation: “I was on a bridge in Paris today, and this fence is covered in padlocks.” I’m dying to know what it means and how it started – the fence itself doesn’t look remotely fancy, so I assume this isn’t some long-standing tradition.
Hmm. Well, if the snow ruins my life this Saturday, I can always do my taxes. And shovel, of course. Ugh.
The snow. The snow explicitly ruining weekend plans without actually giving me the OK to leave work early. I get to suffer on the panicked commute home AND suffer stuck inside tomorrow.
I hate being stuck, no matter who I’m with. The idea that I had no choice but to stay put freaks me out big time.
But come hell or high water, I am going to accomplish something this weekend – I’m completing my passport application. I’ll walk to the damn post office if need be.
I also want to look into this:
Chris sent me this today, with only this semi-vague explanation: “I was on a bridge in Paris today, and this fence is covered in padlocks.” I’m dying to know what it means and how it started – the fence itself doesn’t look remotely fancy, so I assume this isn’t some long-standing tradition.
Hmm. Well, if the snow ruins my life this Saturday, I can always do my taxes. And shovel, of course. Ugh.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Day 3: Asian Chicken in the Crock + Teavana FAIL.
So, I rushed home from the gym because I had cooking on the mind. It's literally all I wanted to do when I got home. I had quite the adventure at the Shop-Rite of Montgomery today. There was who I'd like to refer to only as a Coupon Monger who was harassing the cashier...then I realized that this was actually the most inept cashier on record.
Forty minutes and 44 dollars later, I had everything I needed to try out an Asian chicken recipe. I filled the bottom of my Crockpot with green & yellow peppers, water chestnuts, an onion and a lotttt of garlic. (I love that it's totally acceptable to LOVE heaping amounts of garlic, btw. My stinky breath thanks my supportive friends :D). Chicken breasts went in on top, with some doctored "sweet teriyaki." I started with a few splashes of teriyaki as a base, then added honey and a little organic peanut butter to thicken it, then threw in ginger for good measure. I'm not so sure about it....I think I get overzealous.
But here's how it's lookin':
My second thing was to try and steep all this loose tea I inherited from Chris:
But that, once again, was an astounding fail. It's not strong enough. I placed the infuser into hot water, waited three minutes, then pushed down on the press. My tea smells glorious. And tastes like water. With some sort of fruity kick.
I feel kinda dumb. Am I supposed to push down, wait, then pull upward? This thing came with no instructions.
Well, I'm off to sip my flavored warm water and settle in.
Forty minutes and 44 dollars later, I had everything I needed to try out an Asian chicken recipe. I filled the bottom of my Crockpot with green & yellow peppers, water chestnuts, an onion and a lotttt of garlic. (I love that it's totally acceptable to LOVE heaping amounts of garlic, btw. My stinky breath thanks my supportive friends :D). Chicken breasts went in on top, with some doctored "sweet teriyaki." I started with a few splashes of teriyaki as a base, then added honey and a little organic peanut butter to thicken it, then threw in ginger for good measure. I'm not so sure about it....I think I get overzealous.
But here's how it's lookin':
My second thing was to try and steep all this loose tea I inherited from Chris:
But that, once again, was an astounding fail. It's not strong enough. I placed the infuser into hot water, waited three minutes, then pushed down on the press. My tea smells glorious. And tastes like water. With some sort of fruity kick.
I feel kinda dumb. Am I supposed to push down, wait, then pull upward? This thing came with no instructions.
Well, I'm off to sip my flavored warm water and settle in.
Day 3
I haven't been feeling well at all, so I took the day off yesterday.
It wasn’t a good day mentally, either, which I think makes it more important than ever that I stick to this blog.
This is hard, and I know I’ve said that already. And that;s why I really need to push forward. Some accomplishments I wanted to share:
- I’m traveling this month! A road trip to Boston with my mom and sister has been set in motion. I could not be more thrilled to go. I’ve always loved traveling: driving, staying in hotels, taking in a city’s sights. We tend to cut the touristy part short each visit, so I hope there’ll be a little adventure this time!
- I did three miles in 30:08. Eight seconds away from this month’s goal. Huzzah!
- Foodisms. Tonight, I’m going to try out my teapot (it confuses the hell out of me). I’ve also been toying with creating BBQ sauce. For what purpose, I don’t really know. But cooking is certainly in the cards.
Until next time…
It wasn’t a good day mentally, either, which I think makes it more important than ever that I stick to this blog.
This is hard, and I know I’ve said that already. And that;s why I really need to push forward. Some accomplishments I wanted to share:
- I’m traveling this month! A road trip to Boston with my mom and sister has been set in motion. I could not be more thrilled to go. I’ve always loved traveling: driving, staying in hotels, taking in a city’s sights. We tend to cut the touristy part short each visit, so I hope there’ll be a little adventure this time!
- I did three miles in 30:08. Eight seconds away from this month’s goal. Huzzah!
- Foodisms. Tonight, I’m going to try out my teapot (it confuses the hell out of me). I’ve also been toying with creating BBQ sauce. For what purpose, I don’t really know. But cooking is certainly in the cards.
Until next time…
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Day 1/163
Today, I want to try and figure out the best way to list my goals. Searching through Google gadgets has left me feeling rather frustrated.
I joined Listaculous today:
Notables:
- I did an unexpected good deed today, which I think is something you ought to strive for without necessarily trying. I drove Colleen, my fantastic roomie, to work in Red Bank. The trip was kinda out of the way for me, but it was a ton of fun to make the trip together (we used to drive to RB together in the summertime, when I took the train to the city), plus I got to see the classroom where she teaches.
Tomorrow, expect quite a few of these items to get crossed off the list, and hopefully a little more content and a little less blathering.
I joined Listaculous today:
Notables:
- I did an unexpected good deed today, which I think is something you ought to strive for without necessarily trying. I drove Colleen, my fantastic roomie, to work in Red Bank. The trip was kinda out of the way for me, but it was a ton of fun to make the trip together (we used to drive to RB together in the summertime, when I took the train to the city), plus I got to see the classroom where she teaches.
Tomorrow, expect quite a few of these items to get crossed off the list, and hopefully a little more content and a little less blathering.
Monday, February 1, 2010
The beginning.
"I hope you never know how hard it is to wait."
The Solids are crooning on my iTunes. How very appropriate.
Well, I've trashed and swept out and re-started this blog a billion times over, and I think I've finally found a reason to stick to it: a 163-day to-do list.
Although I've been in a relationship for four months, I've never stood by the idea of the woman's role of a sad, clingy significant other. I've always enjoyed having my own life. And while Chris is away exploring Paris and attending grad school, I want to keep busy and keep going over here in Jersey.
(Now, it's not like there aren't things I want to accomplish while Chris is here, but I also reason that it'd be way more fun, and even challenging at times, to discover what's out there and see where my limits lie.
I'm getting together a "system." I think it would be interesting to try three goals a week, with some having more of a longterm durations than others. For example - I might try and give up swearing for a week, to do a good deed once a day, to lose a set amount of inches or pounds in a month. I'm not quite sure how to organize or approach this, but I figure things will come together somehow.
Chris just sent me his last text message in the States. I think it's appropriate that I hit "publish."
The Solids are crooning on my iTunes. How very appropriate.
Well, I've trashed and swept out and re-started this blog a billion times over, and I think I've finally found a reason to stick to it: a 163-day to-do list.
Although I've been in a relationship for four months, I've never stood by the idea of the woman's role of a sad, clingy significant other. I've always enjoyed having my own life. And while Chris is away exploring Paris and attending grad school, I want to keep busy and keep going over here in Jersey.
(Now, it's not like there aren't things I want to accomplish while Chris is here, but I also reason that it'd be way more fun, and even challenging at times, to discover what's out there and see where my limits lie.
I'm getting together a "system." I think it would be interesting to try three goals a week, with some having more of a longterm durations than others. For example - I might try and give up swearing for a week, to do a good deed once a day, to lose a set amount of inches or pounds in a month. I'm not quite sure how to organize or approach this, but I figure things will come together somehow.
Chris just sent me his last text message in the States. I think it's appropriate that I hit "publish."
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