Emdeedubs

I feel like we start the wait for Memorial Day Weekend the second week in November. Once the temperature dips, we know it's time to get our mama bear on and snuggle up in the cave until that sweet siren odor of grilling meat and sunblock calls us back to the world of the fun.

It is also the hardest three day weekend to jump back from - who wants to work on the Tuesday after Memorial Day when there is glorious sunshine that we just got to spend three whole days playing in? 

This year it was even worse because our long weekend started on Wednesday and the party did not stop until this morning when it cops-showed-up-beers-run-out-parents-come-home-eeerrrrkkk-on-the-record-player stopped and real life started again...

Friendly Ground

Today we are skipping town to go watch my baby sister 'Bear graduate from college. Obviously, this makes me incredibly old and I'm working through all my old-person emotions.

The best way to do this is with booze, obviously.

When I was ordering this balanced breakfast, I asked the bartender if I could take this back to my gate to enjoy while stealing the wireless from Boyfriend's phone.

"Of course, young lady, you can take this wherever you want. Welcome to the South Side of Chicago."

My heart bubbled with Chicago pride. We booze when we want (8:30 a.m. on a Wednesday), where we want (the gate because airport bars are sad) and how we want (it was only 40 cents extra to get Kettle One. Hell. Yes).

As I reflect back on my college graduation which was EIGHT YEARS AGO OMG. I am so grateful for the opportunities I had and the choices I made that led me to such a great town.

Cheers.

Thursday afternoon sibs bits

We are the meanest, dirtiest, lowest blowest of fighters, but true life:

I love my siblings.

Namaste. Bless You.

I think that yoga might be the one form of exercise I can do constantly without getting sick of while still deriving some sort of athletic benefit, but my current house of yoga costs way more than I can justify spending on anything these days. So I recently canceled my membership.

I think of yoga as a workout, it is how I justify eating all the snacks (and yes, I know we don't actually need to justify snacks, but unless you are going to buy me new pants - justify) but I know that for most people yoga has some deeper meaning. 

For the longest time, when I was told (asked?) to set an intention at the beginning of class, it was always, "let's just get through this." Then, when Boyfriend's mom got sick, the idea of dedicating my practice became a habit.  Occasionally it was for someone else, sometimes it was for me.

Today, I had an epiphany in class. Maybe it was because I was the sweatiest I had ever been. So sweaty, I thought I would dissolve into a swampy pile of yoga sweat goo. I just realized that this is as close to prayer I will ever get.

I have never been religious, and it has always felt pretty douchey to pray when things get bad, when I have never once prayed when things are good. Plus, if there is a man upstairs, he is probably actually a lady and thusly hates hypocrites. Lady Gods cannot abide by hypocrites.

When I dedicate a practice to someone it feels like an opportunity to try to take some of their pain or sadness or confusion away. As I sweat and strain I reach out into the universe, find one person and say, "I'm already working hard, give me some of your weariness because I can take it."

It feels stupidly wonderful (and very cliche-y) to have a workout with bonus substance. To not only feel like I've earned that extra beer but that I have stepped out of me and all of my goofy first world problems and given an hour and fifteen minutes of my breath and self to someone else.

Being the dick pragmatist I have always been, thoughts and breath come up short when what people need are medicine and cures, but as I have gotten older and life has gotten more real I have realized that thoughts (and prayers, if that is what you are cooking) are pretty valuable too.

I have about a month of yoga left in my membership before I move into other things and I try to find other ways to devote myself to others but until then, I will celebrate these opportunities to sweat it out for others.

And please, someone remind Boyfriend when I come home just smelling like a hockey locker room that sometimes, I do this for him.

No Place like it.

I had such an amazing time while I was home for Christmas. One of the best adventures being the day that nearly everyone on my Mom's side of the family went into D.C. for a day of museums.

This is how I feel about being home.


Thanks to my baby sister, 'Bear for shooting this amazing vid.

TYOE: Maryland (part 2)

More eating recommendations for any time you might spend in the Fredneck/MoCo area.

Isabella's has an amazing lunch tapas special. 3 ladies x 3 plates each = all the fried asparagus. Their plates are generous and delicious anytime but lunch seems like a no-brainer.  

Bonus points for popping into Muse, across the street, and buying a beautiful handmade stuffed animal for one of your besties, or any of their other amazing locally created trinkets and delights. 

I do not spend a ton of time in Charlestown, West Virginia but my favorite little monsters (ages 4 and 6) live there, and I have it on good authority that they are pizza experts, and they eat Papa Johns. So, clearly Papa Johns is the best in the biz, with a little Yellow Tail Shiraz blend for the grown-ups, hello Tuesday night.

Side note: this was the first time I have gotten to hang out with these kiddos in about three years, just us and not our entire enormous, loud, crazy pants family. It was so wonderful even though they are quite simply, the rottenest. 

I have a crafted a theory about the restaurants Voltaggio after having eaten at all four.

If you are looking for a fancy, lets impress everyone meal - you go to Volt. If you want to do this and have it not be an incredible strain on your wallet, you do it for brunch. 

If you are looking for a delicious dinner that will make everyone happy - you go to Family Meal. You make sure you have at least one order of duck fat fries for the table (maybe two if some people skipped lunch), and you order the fried chicken. Let your friends make their own choices, but don't mess around with this, it's fried chicken or its pack it up and go home.

If you need a sandwich, go to Lunchbox (duh). 

If you are just looking for some short eats and a craze-mazing cocktail, you go to Range. Having eaten dinner at Range, I can tell you it is not worth it. The price tag on a meal that makes you full is steep, and for the quality of food, impractical. We had some amazing bites, but that only made the bad ones all the more obvious. Get the rockfish, and the sunchokes, and anything that you can smear bacon relish on. Get a drink, be brave and order something with at least one word you don't know, and then be done.

When Congress continues to deny you buttermilk fried alligator bites, Good Stuff Eatery is getting all the sloppy seconds by way of some realdecent cheeseburgers. Get a milkshake, because you only live once. If you see Barack Obama there, tell him Rachel says hello. 

Pacifico has sangria. Apparently they have food too, but after all that cheeseburger, sangria is all you need to spend an afternoon catching up with your friend-who-is-family.

When you find out your 21 year-old sister has never eaten Greek food, lament her entire childhood being spent in Western Maryland, and then head to Ayse (pronounced Eye-shay). You must get the Brussels sprouts. This is not a negotiation. These are world champion Brussels sprouts. They are so freaking delicious. Get two, who cares, they're a mystical, magical vegetable. Then whatever other Greek food you need, which is mostly just lamb and cheese on fire.

For your final meal, you convince your Granny to take you out to lunch, and really the only acceptable place is Clyde's. Cross your fingers for seating in the hunting room and enjoy the bizarre placement of this kitschy Adirondack lodge in the middle of sterile, boring Montgomery county. Get whatever you want (a crab cake). Thank your grandmother for lunch and for telling you about all the ways you could be a better granddaughter. 

And then as you're leaving, get Chipotle at the airport, because there is a chipotle at the airport. God bless you, BWI. 

Fall Madness

It has already started.  A fall unlike any other. One that will leave me so grateful for any free moment I find myself in front of a television on the weekends.

It started with celebrating Wedding #1
now its onto trying to keep the luck of the Irish
then the biggest, scariest, work thing I've ever done
followed by getting our wedding guest on back-to-back Maryland style
with a week-long M'town trip snuck in on the tail end
chased by a trip down to Charlotte to see the incomprable Chellis.
then its Birthday Trip 1 LasVegasHooverDamGrandCanyon
with Birthday Trip 2 SeattleTeenytimeTreeHouse right behind it.
a weekend in Madison with one of my favorite baby Badgers and her delightful parents
time to try on a taste of famous with our third trip to Cali this year, L.A. style
(shhhhh, I have one weekend with no plans, donotjinxthis)
a turkey-time adventure in Orlando
my second big, scary work thing (significantly less big and scary)

Then there are two weeks until Christmas Vacation.

On.your.mark.get.set.go

Buffy.

Here are some things I am not going to miss about our cat Buffy, who passed away earlier this week.

1 - Her room clearing farts. Apparently, once you lose half your colon - your gas becomes more frequent and potent. Nothing like a purring cat on your chest who rips a noxious gas bomb and then refuses to get off of you.

2 - Her uncanny ability to vomit directly where you are about to walk. Something about cat puke on your bare foot first thing in the morning that makes you reevaluate all of your life choices.

3- Her pathetic yowl. It was like a meow, if Lady Gaga meowed and it wasn't autotuned.  Luckily, it was something she just did when she was hungry, which was pretty much all the time.

I loved her very much. She was a wonderful part of our family but with all old pets, it is eventually time for them to go. I don't know if I'll ever know another animal as dumb and as patient as she. And let's be honest, for the reputation of cats everywhere - that is probably for the best.

I'm finna talk about my mama if yall don't mind

Its Mother's Day. And I would be remiss not to mention the most important Mom I know. The one who ever so patiently waited two weeks past my due date for me to make my grand entrance. And then loved all 10 pounds of me even though I was sickly and required lots of special attention (typical).

There are a billion reasons why my Mom is the bees knees. But my Dad (who is also pretty great) reminded me of one of my favorites this morning. 

When we were all a lot younger we lived in Washington D.C. in a townhouse with a yard and a toy room in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood which had its share of problems in the mid-1980's.

Just down the street was Our Church. It looks like this.

Image (via)

Some day I will write more about how much this place and the people who came with were game changers in my existence. But this was not only just Our Church - my Mom worked here as the Parish Administrator (a two-fer, if you will)

And in 1988 - when things were really bad, and people were selling drugs literally on the steps of the church, two young men were killed on the sidewalk in front of the building.

Something had to be done. So my Mom decided to have a vigil.

She sat on the steps of the church, every night, with some other amazing folks, as the sun set. And people didn't sell drugs. Were they being sold somewhere else instead? Maybe - but my Mom was doing her part to keep her family and community safe.

Every time I think about this story - it makes my heart burst with pride. And I recognize where my fierce determination to do good comes from. In the same situation, I hope I would find the same spirited stubbornness. A "Hey you kids, get off my lawn," mentality with a "let's change our corner of the world," mission.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Thanks for keeping me safe.

(You can read more about this story and Our Church here)

Princess Organizer

This past weekend I got to spend some quality time in Maryland. It was a very under the radar trip, without any sort of extensive planning or promise of social engagements - which was exactly what I needed.

I still got to eat amazing food and see some of my favorite people AND I got to do amazing, practical things - like organize Mom's wrapping paper closet.

I spent most of my life being a horrible slob and then I grew up, had a roommate who was the Felix to my Oscar, and realized how much less likely I was to break/lose things if I kept them tidy.

So now, I get a huuuuge rush out of cleaning and organizing. It helps to have it not be my own things and to have it be things with little sentimental value, but either way - it is immensely satisfying and I wish I could do it professionally.

Anyway - we started with this.

This is even after a whole bunch of the stuff fell out as I was trying to get enough light for the picture. I started by taking everything out, there is really no point in organizing if you are only going to do it half way.

This is maybe 3/4 of the stuff. The rest is on the floor and on the chairs.

Then I organized like with like. All the boxes together, all the Christmas bags in one pile and the "various other holidays" in another.

A dining room table is a perfect place to do this because you have the added benefit of having chairs to put your piles on. If a pile cannot fit on a chair, it is too big and needs to be reevaluated.

Throw things away. Anything that was kind of broken or dirty and I didn't think I would want to present to someone as the wrapping for their gift automatically went in the trash. I probably threw away at least as much as I kept, if not more.

And then think critically about how you are going to use things. My mother mostly wraps presents at Christmas, so those things are the most prominently featured (the bag on the right and the paper at the top of the pile). Everything is easily accessible, the boxes are full of other boxes - the goal is to not have to take out more than one thing to get to what you need.

The only caveat to my brilliant plan is the shipping supplies (big boxes, peanuts, etc) are behind all of this. I wish there had been a way to make them more accessible but since they are always used in conjunction with everything else, it seems like it won't be too tedious. We'll have to see how she does.

Anyway, please let me come organize your house. You will have to pay me some money, but it turns out that, for now, I work for brunch and peanut butter M&M's.

light my way

We finally finished doing battle with our insurance company after the break in so it was time to compile the list of all the things that got swipped (Like a Good Neighbor, State Farm will screw up your life, not return your phone calls and hire morons in their local offices).

This was hilarious for all the reasons that any interaction in my house is hilarious.  Boyfriend is super efficient and thorough - and I am a freaking space cadet.  I made my list from memory (duh, but Boyfriend also had receipts and whatnot to help prompt his memory) - which meant that there was no order or thought put into it.  For goodness sake - the list started as an MacBook sticky note, before Boyfriend made me transfer it to an excel spreadsheet.  To be fair - his list was all electronics, which can be easily found on the internet and cross referenced.  It is nearly impossible to describe most jewelry (apparently), making it even more impossible to find it using a basic google search.

So I did what I could and gave the list to him to work with.  Then this conversation happened:

"You put lightship basket earrings on your list twice."
"Yeah.  I had two pairs."
silence.
"Okay..."

I did.  I had two pairs of lightship basket earrings.  Because what my Grandmother lacks in creativity, she makes up for in her giving spirit.  Two pairs - one that just sits on your ears (from my google searching I believe these are called "post") and one that has a post backing but like hangs down (so I have dubbed, "dangling").  Two pairs of earrings that were, sorry Granny, almost identical and now I don't have either.

It's strange.  I didn't think I'd miss them.  They were cute, but completely absurd and made me feel a little pretentious, mostly because when people would ask, "are those earrings baskets?" I would have to explain that they were actually Lightship baskets which were a thing from Nantucket which is a place that is kind of a big deal where lightship baskets were kind of a big deal which I guess, begrudgingly makes Me a big deal..."

Why I have to explain this, I am not quite sure.

Anyway, on Monday night I wore my Lightship basket necklace for the first time in (possibly) ever.  It was silly, but reminded me of my Grandmother and her island and her stupid, stupid addiction to these ridiculous things.

Attack of the future phone

On the same day that we went and stuffed our faces at Girl and the Goat, I also, finally, got my grubby mitts on an iphone 4.

This moment had been a long time coming.  I wanted an iphone the minute they came out however many years ago.  But when i went to go out and be a big girl and get my own phone plan, the told me how much it was going to cost per month.  So I slinked back to my crappy LG phone and figured it was only a matter of time before Verizon jumped aboard this Apple-licious crazy train.

That's the thing about time though - it can move so slowly.  And then when it came out for Verizon we had to have the epic battle of, "We waited so long, why not just wait for the iphone 5 to come out??"

My patience, while epic, could not wait past Dad getting a new droid.  I thought we were in the crappy phone club together, Dad. So once he was out of the club it was only a matter of time before I followed him.

And its been about two weeks now and they've been two of the happiest weeks of my life.  Boyfriend thinks he has found some sort of magical key to my happiness.  A new cellphone, apparently, does the trick.

The one major downside?  I cannot fathom ever reading another book ever again.  Why would I read a book when I have the whole world in a convienent palm-sized device?  I figure I give myself one more week of playing, but then I need to start limiting the angry birds and the words with friends so that I can spend some time with words on pages.

But then the future phone chimes and beeps and tweets and sings and I find myself digging in my bag for it wanting to know why its making noise.  Its like a really adorable, smart, useful baby full of clever applications.

Anyway - there are many reasons I've been a blogging failure lately, and this is totally one of them.  Future phone for life.

letters of letters

My wonderful Mother came for a visit a few weeks ago and deposited the first (of what I am sure will be many) piles of childhood in my apartment.

I understand, she needs to get the ish out of her house and now that I am a full fledged grown up (who now has some room to spare ... too soon??) its time I took on the burden.  Boyfriend already had to do it  and he's like ages and ages (6 months) younger than me AND the youngest in his family, which means his parents are contractually obligated to love him more than my parents love me.

Unlike Boyfriend, who had boxes full of toys and awards and odds and ends - the theme of mine is: boxes of words.

There were some photos, a few fur coats (awesome, and practical but yet - not?  We'll discuss this in a later blog) but everything else was words.  Most of my notebooks from college, play bills and programs, phrases I had cut out of magazines (in that way that girls do that should be weird and creepy but since the letters are pink and sparkly...isn't) but mostly letters and cards.

 Back in my youth, I was an avid letter writer.  This was of course in the age before e-mails when a letter was really the only way to get information from one human to another (except for maybe the telephone...) - and I had a lot to say (about, if memory serves me correctly, nothing at all) so I wrote lots of letters.

I had the good fortune of knowing some really lovely people who were willing to write back and so there were exchanges that stretched years and all that remains of most of them is all the letters that were written to me and that are now sitting in a mess on the floor in my bedroom.

I am at a loss for what to do with these letters.  Most of them I would not actually miss if they were to disappear.  There are not any specific words that mean more than others.  There are some pieces of paper that are prettier and some with pop culture references (one friend of mine had a serious thing for Hanson) that are more delightful but most of the information shared, is not really information that I will need going forward in life.

But there is something that has kept me from throwing them out these past two weeks they have sat in a really impractical pile.  Maybe, nostalgia?  I've taken the opportunity during teeth brushing and avoiding house cleaning to sit in the midst of them and pull them randomly out of envelopes to read - and its been fun, but more than fun - its been really, really strange.

Its a weird sensation to be reading words that were either inspired by, or were inspiring words that I had written...and to have no idea what my words are.  Its like listening to someone who is talking on the phone and only hearing their words...but knowing that you are the person on the other end.

I've spent some minutes pondering what 10 year-old, or 14 year-old or 18 year-old me said.  Sometimes I  know exactly what it was but a lot of the time I am at a complete loss about how I would react to questions about boys or school or well, boys mostly.  Younger me was as clueless about boys as older me.  Its a little disconcerting to not have any clue how I thought about things.

Most people don't probably take the time to think about how they thought about things in the past.  And why would you?  We're a forward thinking species.  But to be aware of just how much you change in 10 or 15 years is kind of crazy.

I want an opportunity to read through all the letters and officially say goodbye to all those relationships.  I might even use it as an opportunity to get into contact with some of these people (many of whom I have not talked to for years) and see where life, after all these letters had lead them.  And say goodbye to this last relic of life before e-mail and future phones and always knowing what we've been thinking.

The notebooks from college will stay, but the sparkly cut out letters will go, because at this age, they are totally weird.

Great clothes

Tonight when I was brushing my teeth (where most of the brilliance happens) I realized I was wearing two pieces of clothing that belonged to my great grandmother*

I considered taking a picture of myself wearing these "pieces" but after a few cell phone photo test shots, I realized this was a terrible, terrible idea.  I am a pretty girl, but right before bed is not a super attractive time for anyone.  So a vivid word description will have to do (I will do my best to keep it under 1000 words).

I am wearing her old tee-shirt with a B. Kliban cat in a tub.  I've sported this shirt out in public before, so there's a chance you've seen it on me - but its getting old and I'm afraid of getting food on it.  The design is so old I cannot find it on the internet (even when I add vintage to my google search).  Which means it's probably from before I was born.  Great Granny wasn't much of a t-shirt kind of lady, so I don't know if she ever wore it.  But its super comfortable.

Over the shirt I am wearing one of the most recent additions to my closet - an excellent LeRoy black cardigan that hits me a few inches above my knee.  It doesn't have buttons up the front, but it does have excellently large pockets.  They're good for a cell phone and chapstick.  Or about 20 tissues, when your nose is still all snotty.  This sucker is also probably older than me.

Anyway!  The clothes themselves are kind of irrelevant except for the fact that they are probably around 30 years old and still kicking!  How great is that?!  Great Granny must have done a phenomenal job taking care of her clothes because I end up with holes in most things after about a year.

Also, I feel crazy lucky that I've ended up being the only girl in my family who fits into Great Granny's clothes (some of my younger cousins probably would also fit, but they are too busy loving Justin Beiber to really care).  I also have two other shirts that belonged to her in my closet but I am terrified that they're not fashionable enough - I should probably get one of my trendy friends to check this out for me.

Weight and clothing size is such an Issue with my Mom's family (a bajillion girls will do that to themselves) and I've never quite felt like I was really the right size, especially since I have a gorgeous older cousin who is/was/will always be taller, skinner and more glamorous than I am.

But if I was any taller this tee shirt would ride up too high on my stomach.  And if I was any smaller, this sweater wouldn't be as warm and comfortable (okay- that's a bit of a stretch, but it fits quite perfectly).  Anyway - Great granny was an awesome, awesome lady - and I am incredibly lucky to have these reminders of how wonderful she is around all the time, keeping me warm and cozy.

Good night.


*At least this is what I think I have been told.  After someone in my family reads this blog, I am sure they will correct me with a quickness.

all the things

There's been a whole bunch going on in the past few weeks - I apologize for the lack of posts, but life keeps getting in the way.  It seems that with life and exercise and the need for cat food (how are we always out??), I can only manage to spend an hour or two at home before bed and that hour, I've decided, is best spent away from my computer and with Boyfriend and the hungry, hungry kitten.  And of course - on the never ending search for the missing drill bits.

Anyway - here is some stuff that is happening.

1-Last weekend Kristin and Howie got engaged last weekend.  Making them the 7th couple I know to get engaged since Christmas.  Congratulations KristinandHowie!! and the rest of you - and the 4 couples getting married this year.  I am totally happy for you - and also wondering if there is some sort of Kool-aid or water or something that I should be steering clear of.

2- I had blood drawn today and x-rays.  Nothing too big, but it required me to fast from midnight last night to 9:45 AM.  For normal people this would be no biggie - but I am an emotional wreak when it comes to food.  I am used to eating by 7 or 8 AM, if I'm awake.  So the fact that I did not get to eat until 11 (after all the testing was done) - meant that I was completely irrational.  There was a farmer's market inside the hospital (a bizarre occurence that I never even though to question while I was experiencing it). And so I had to buy 2 pounds of organic, free-range bratwursts and a loaf of banana chocolate chip bread.  This, in hindsite was dumb but I was so hungry!  They say not to go to the grocery store hungry. I say - don't put the grocery store inside a place where I am forced to be hungry.

3- I am excited that people are deciding to visit me this year.  Cougar AND Buttmunch might be coming, and my big 'Cuz!  Summer in Chicago is amazing, but its a bajillion times better when you get to share it with other people.

4- I finally bought a day planner two weeks ago.  I thought that maybe this would be the year I would become a digital planner, but since I STILL don't have an iphone (come on July!) this is not the case - because I have no way of synching my computer with my phone or anything else.  At least 5 days of the week - when I am glued to a computer, this is not a problem, but on the off chance you try to plan something with me on a weekend, for the entire month of January and most of February - There was a chance we would make plans and by the time I got home and powered up the laptop, I would have forgotten.  So I went to Borders and bought at $1.00 planner.  I keep forgetting I have it though.  At 10 cents a month, I still feel like I am getting my money's worth...

5- E! plays Sex and the City from 7 - 8 PM every weeknight.  It has made my hour on the elliptical far less tedious.  Even though I think I've decided I hate Carrie Bradshaw - its a nice walk down memory lane.

6- I think this might be the year I go downtown and watch them dye the Chicago river green for St. Patrick's Day.  I have a meeting that morning, so I won't be down there until noon, at which point it might be back to its normal green color.  I have this funny feeling that if I don't make a concerted effort to go see it in the next two years, I will be moving away in a decade or so and realize that I never saw them dye the river green.

That's all.  See you in a few days.

work it.

I've been bad about blogging and I really have very few excuses.  But there have been some interesting things going on.

I went to a fancy black-tie event with my dad.  He got invited by one of his baller business cohorts and I came along for the free food and the excuse to buy a new dress.  Naturally it was very strange to be at a networking event and not networking (and since they were all dentist people, I couldn't even really like fake network because we had no common ground).

I did end up making friends with a girl who was my age who was going to be seated at our table.  She actually is someone my dad should have been networking with, but instead she and I tried to forge a friendship based on the fact that we were some of the youngest people there.  This tickled my Dad to no end, because when I was a kid I always had the ability to make new friends wherever I went.  Only very rarely did they end up being long term friendships, most only had the shelf life of however long we were where we were, but it was an excellent coping mechanism none the less.  And I am sure it is one that has served me well in all of my many relocations.

This was by far the fanciest networking thing I've ever been to (and not been working) and I have to say - these rich people really like to booze it up.

Here's some math for you.

We went to the pre-gala reception which was from 4:45 - 6:15 (we got there around 5:45).  This was drinks and very wee, very weakly passed apps.  Super delicious (fig with gorgonzola wrapped in prosciutto?  Yes please) but not really food.

Then there was cocktail hour round 2 which was from 6:30 - 8.  So, more booze - but this time, no food.  Awesome, feeling good.

Then dinner was supposed to start at 8, but there were many speeches and hands to be shook before we actually started eating but the waiters (bless their hearts) were having a grand old time pouring the wine.  So we started eating at about 8:45.

And at that point, I am already hammer drunk (TM Chelsea Long).

Why?  Because I had been subject to three hours of open bar and I am only human.  Even at pacing myself - that's at least four or five glasses of white wine on (essentially) an empty stomach.  And I MISSED the first hour.  Thank the baby jesus, because other wise, things could have gotten really, really messy.

And it wasn't just me.  My new (and now forgotten) friend also admitted to me that she was a little drunk.  Maybe they expect the networking to take up most of your attention and so the drinking gets forgotten?  No idea - but that plan failed on me being the +1.  Failed.

So of course, once the food got there, I completely forgot how to interact with other humans and ate all of my food as fast as possible, hoping that some of the steak and crab stuffed prawns would soak up the bottle and a half of white wine I had consumed.  (I am the classiest girl you know.)

The rest of the event was fun, I was hella pissed that I got outbid on a pair of earrings I was lusting after during the silent auction.  They used these fancy touch screens where you just put in your bidder number (practically located on your name badge) and you could touch the screen and look at everything.  This technology was far too cool not to utilize, so I bid on the cheapest thing.  This was going well until one of the high roller auction guys outbid me - I think just because he thought I would get into a bidding war over them.  Wrong again, Steve Jones.  Have fun with your Black Onyx drop earrings, sucker.

I did come away with a rather pretty (if poorly set) ring that was gifted to me by another of my father's business pals.  Apparently they were auctioning off this sapphire ring and if you bid you got like a place holder ring to get you all excited for the real one.  He did not win the real ring, and I am afraid that just the site of his faux ring made him remember his terrible luck.  Its cool, I'll take it.

Grandpa

Today is my Grandpa's 80th birthday.

For some reason I thought his birthday was February 19.  But it isn't.  It's February 9.  Its okay though.  I don't think he would have minded if I got it wrong.  Especially if I got it wrong every year.  In fact, he would probably find it funnier that I am so insistent that his birthday was the 19th, then he would be offended that his own granddaughter doesn't know his birthday.

Grandpa wasn't big for celebrating birthdays anyway.  The cakes and the presents and the singing - they were for us.  If it was up to him he would have spent every birthday alone in his truck driving down two lane alternate highway routes.  But Grandpa loved us more than he loved himself, and that was the amazing thing about him.  He was surrounded by all these women who wanted to celebrate him.  These women who worshiped him.  And so he celebrated because he loved how happy it made everyone else.

For some reason, when I imagine Grandpa and his four daughters they're all wearing swirling full-skirted dresses out of the 1800's.  I have no idea why, since they were a bunch of hippie/cowboy/beachbums but its a lovely image that I can't really get away from.

Grandpa would laugh at me for writing this blog at 11:30 at night.  He would have told me to go to bed.  He'll still be 80 tomorrow and then I'll have had a good night sleep and can celebrate him properly.  Or at least, that's what I think he would have said - thinking of my adult relationship with him is something I can't really wrap my brain around.  Its too sacred and sad to think about for too long.

I think one of the reasons I love Boyfriend as much as I do is because there are these flashes of Grandpa I see in him, this silent stoicism in the face of an overload of very noisy estrogen.  This dry humor sliced paper thin, so subtle that you almost don't notice it.  This terrible singing voice.  Naturally, this makes me Granny.  Which is a little hard to swallow, and yet - exactly right.  A love that defies the laws of just about everything. 

 

When I was a kid, I was pretty sure Grandpa knew all the secrets to the universe and that we were all so busy running around we never got around to asking him about it.  But even if we had, he probably would have shrugged and said, "ask your Grandmother, she knows everything."

a couple words

It has come to my attention that I am terrible at putting up pictures on this business. While words are nice - I feel like pictures take the game up a notch. Also, I have 8,800 pictures on my computer which means that every time I open iphoto everything comes to a screeching halt for 4 or 5 minutes as it loads. Its time to share the wealth.

My first word/photo essay is entitled "Photos of me with famous people."

This is one of my favorite pictures of all time. Its framed next to my bed, which if Mr. Sedaris ever knew would either delight him or terrify the shit out of him. Its one of the only pictures of us all together as either my Mom or I tend to be behind the camera, but some nice lady took this for us. Apparently David Sedaris doesn't like to have his picture taken so this is a pretty rare find. He looks so content? confused? angry? I have no idea - we almost look photoshopped behind him- which would kind of brilliant of him - to sell this image and you can just put your own family behind him. Also we all look very young in this picture - it is about five years old, but those are 5 clutch face-changing years.

What is super unfortunate is I look like a pile of awkward garbage in this picture. This was poor planning on my part. This picture never should have happened. I had an English class and wasn't feeling well. But Miss D said two little words - Christopher Meloni. And I was there. With my pigtails and my raggedy tee-shirt and my make up - oh wait no, not so much that last one. This night was also the night that brings you this little number...


Back when this picture was taken four long years ago - I was a senior in college, young and full of dreams and bad skin and the ability to understand the physics of how to take a good picture. And this guy was just finishing a show called Light on the Piazza which I had loved in that way that you are pretty sure you should love something but are mostly just distracted that the lead male is supposed to be Italian and does not even resemble a pasta noodle he is so un-Italian looking. Anyway - at this point I was madly in love with him, having seen the show and since he wasn't actually a celebrity yet - he was incredibly nice and chatty. And now he's all famous and I still kind of look that weird, but am better at being pictures (sort of).

Okay - this picture almost doesn't count for a few reasons - 1) Vanilla Ice isn't really a celebrity any more, and 2) you can't actually see my face, just my enormous cobra-esque mouth that has the capacity to swallow you hole. The fact that I went to a bar just to see Vanilla Ice shows just how desperate I was for human interaction when I moved here. The fact that my coworker invited me out - I would have probably gone and seen MC Hammer (actually - that's 100% true - I would go see MC Hammer by myself).

Again - why must I look atrocious in every celebrity picture? This is going to really hurt down the road...when we get to later pictures. Ryan Shaw doesn't really count because he did not blow up like Matthew Morrison. Bummer - but we like him anyway.

And then next three all happened in one day too - you can tell because I'm wearing the same clothes. Also - I look *almost* okay



McKim looks gorgeous in these pictures - she is flipping radiant. I look like I need some sun, and may or may not have to pee. I get so excited when I meet celebrities I care about (...or I just make terrible faces) that I forget how to look like a normal person. But its nice to have pictures to remind me of meeting a bunch of strangers.

Day 4 - 6: More Santa Severa and Universal Health care

The next three days were very low-key for me. Which was nice in preparation for the tourist-gasm that was about to go down a few days later. I spent the time sleeping, discovering that the castle was closed for repairs (lame), and working on my sweet tan.

The best part of the last three days was the meal we had up in the countryside of Santa Severa. It was about a 20 minute drive into the mountains from our beach house. We got to spend time with Lei Lei and Christine, his wife, who is the ONLY person (out of all 4 adults) who remembers me from when I came when I was four. She said I looked exactly the same, which I have no doubt, is totally true.

The restaurant we went to was basically in this huge enclosed porch off of an old house. It was the traditional Italian country dinner you've heard about. We started with three types of bruschetta and appetizers, then two or three different types of pasta, followed by Pork, Beef and Mutton. All probably killed within the week and served with greens and potatoes. Bear really liked the pork, and the mutton was over done and dry (although I think I was expecting lamb, so over done is probably normal) but the beef was perfect. It was just rare enough. It was amazing, and we just ate and ate and ate until I had literally made myself sick, but I so wanted to keep eating because I hardly ever get meals like this. It was perfect.

While we were living a life of hedonism, Buttmunch was also kind of dying.

Its a long story, but the moral of it was Buttmunch was on antibiotics when we got to Italy. The first day I notice a red rash developing on his arms, and back and legs and really everywhere. The rash got worse and worse and basically left the kid a pile of hot mess by the time we were in Rome.

He was a champion about it - dutifully walking around with us as the sun blazed overhead. But it got to a point where he was resembling a tomato more than a human and was too tired to be sarcastic.

So he and Dad hoofed it to the pharmacist where he was told that he was for sure having an allergic reaction to something (probably the antibiotics) and he needed an antihistamine and he should go have a chat with a Doctor.

The next day, Buttmunch, Dad and Lei Lei drove out to one of the two or three doctors within a 20 mile radius and just walked in, saw a doctor - found out what the dealio was (a reaction to the sun while on the antibiotic) and got the medicine he needed. Total cost - NOTHING. Not a dime. (Well, the drugs might have cost something, but the doctor's visit was on the house).

Can you imagine if someone from Italy walked into a clinic (any clinic) in the US (especially in a resort/beach/country area) and had a crazy rash? No matter what kind of explanatory paperwork they had - there would be a battery of tests, an epic wait and then a bill akin to dinner at Alinea.

So THEN, Buttmunch takes the antihistamines and feels moderately better, until he takes the antibiotics again and busts into a Oscar-worthy asthma attack. We no longer have access to a car (and so the clinic from the day before) so they hoof it back over to their new bff - the pharmacist - who tells Buttmunch to throw those antibiotics away - and gives him an alternative drug and an inhaler to deal with the whole not-breathing thing. Sure these cost some Euros - but here's what they didn't cost - a prescription, a doctor's visit, or a waste of everyones' time.

I was consistently amazed by how much treatment he got for so little. What a civilized society.

*** edited to add the part about our delicious meal, that I had forgotten all about in the discussion of health care***

Day 3 - Roma

One of the things that remained completely unplanned during this trip was our schedule while we were in Italy. When I left, I dutifully typed out an itinerary of where I thought I would be day-to-day (as told to me by Dad) and then it promptly was untrue. Thankfully nothing bad happened as no one would have known where I was.

So after much changing of plans, on Sunday, we took a bus from Santa Severa into Rome. The bus is apparently for poor people and foreigners (of which we are sort of both) but was very comfortable and air-conditioned (sort of).

When we got to Rome we met Eugenio, my dad's other cousin. Eugenio (pronounced exactly like that because I don't know how its actually spelled) wears black Armani Jeans, drives a car with two sun roofs, and speaks a very little bit of English (but is excited to try).

He was about fifteen minutes late picking us up. This is also a common theme of Italy. Everyone takes their time, or forgets the time, or is meh about time. Trying to not panic about this was something I didn't really get better at all week.

Eugenio picked us up and took us right into the Vatican. Where he found parking thanks to a handicap hang tag he keeps around for situations just like these (being tourists at the Vatican on a Sunday - or I guess taking an elderly aunt to doctor's appointments...but mostly the first one).

I found the walls around Vatican City somewhat intimidating, but was excited to learn that the Pope used to walk along the top to get to Castle St. Angelo when things got rough at St. Peter's.

When we got to St. Peters we met up with some of our first-cousins-once-removed (Eugenio and Lei Lei's kids - who are Bear's age, and younger). They are all very nice, but all of them were over a decade younger than I am so we didn't have really anything in common, but it was interesting to see Rome from teenagers' perspectives.

We got to St. Peters right before noon which meant A- it was blazing hot, and B- we were told that if we waited a few minutes we might get to see the Pope. The Pope is a big enough celebrity that we were willing to wait a few minutes (once we found some shade) to sneak a peak.

According to my cousins (the younger ones) the Pope's Italian is terrible, and he has a very heavy German accent, making him almost impossible to understand. He also did a few verses in German and English which was interesting to listen to as we walked down to get in line to go into St. Peter's.

St. Peter's is a very large church. While I find churches somewhat interesting, they don't quite get me whipped up into the historical, theological, artistical frenzy of some others. The most interesting thing that happened at St. Peter's was that when they attempted to enforce the dress code (no tank tops) on my 18 year-old cousin she refused to put on a sweater or figure out a plan B. Instead she just sat outside and waited for us - her reasoning being, "if they're allowed to molest small children, I'm allowed to wear a tank top." I was impressed with her ballsy-ness. Especially since it seemed like no one else was remembering that the Vatican is embroiled in some pretty messy business right now.

I really wanted to see the Sistine Chapel because its one of those things I felt that I should see but we were on a pretty tight schedule, apparently - so this ceiling was going to have to do. I enjoy all the sky lights I discovered in European churches. I feel that sunlight is probably as close as you'll ever get to "God" so you should let it shine in from on high.

After St. Peter's there was a very fast trip past the Coliseum, and the University of Rome, Engineering Building before going back to Eugenio's house for lunch. We didn't actually go into the Coliseum because the family said it was a waste of time. It was one of those things where people in Rome have much different opinions on what you should and shouldn't see. As I am sure people in DC/New York/Chicago are opinionated on what are the most important landmarks. It just seems different because the Coliseum is so much older? I don't know.

Lunch was an amazing yet, so simple, affair. Pasta with tuna, basil and tomatoes were served first. We assumed that that was all we were getting because it covered a fair number of food groups so Bear and I had two helpings each (tuna in the Med. is so delicious, it has something to do with their water). But then there was a buffalo mozzarella ball the size of my whole head
This picture doesn't really do it justice, but it was huge and so delicious. And then after the big, milky pieces of cheese, there was prosciutto, and then cantaloupe to eat with the prosciutto. And by this point my stomach couldn't possibly take anymore. So we stopped for a while before having this amazing ice cream cake desert (the name of which totally escapes me, but it is loaf-of-bread shaped and it has like a hard chocolate top and vanilla-y ice cream and there are various flavors - tiramasu, neapolitan etc. Ugh...this is going to kill me- please leave a comment if you know the name of what I am talking about, it starts with an "S?").

After an enormous lunch there was more walking around the city with family. We saw all of the typical tourist landmarks which was satisfying, and I eavesdropped on my cousin and sister as they talked about the differences in teenage life in Italy versus America. Mostly I just looked. I really, really love European architecture, and this will become a serious obsession when we get to Venice. But there is something about the structure and colors of older buildings in Europe (or at least Paris and Italy) that I really love.

Eventually we headed back to the bus stop, where we discovered there was no where to buy bus tickets. And then we discovered that apparently no one buys tickets for the bus because they hardly ever check it. Naturally, my father insisted that on every other ride we buy a ticket - but for this one, we rode home like locals - for free.

**edited to correct some silly mistakes - 7/6/2010**