I made a New Years resolution to cook more, exercise more, and be neater around the house. Although I can't say that my house is any tidier than it was in 2010, or that my waistline is any smaller than it was in 2010, I can say that I've - we've - made an honest effort to cook more.
In addition to bringing unprepared food back into my home (despite the rising opposition from the ice cubes, ice cream and the bottles of booze), cooking has also opened up a whole can of worms of the tools that I need to complete my recipes - spatulas, colanders, cutting boards, zesters, pepper miles, knife rack - which brings me to my biggest problem.
To quote Wayne's World "A gun rack... a gun rack. I don't even own *a* gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack. What am I gonna do... with a gun rack?" Cart before the horse much? I don't even have a knife to put on the knife rack that I swear I need. Well, until today.
I manage a restaurant in downtown Philly, which, if you're one of my two readers you already know this. A little while back I was talking to one of my coworkers about my new years resolution, swapping easy recipes for me to try with limited resources, and I mentioned in passing that I was in dire need of a knife. Like I'm-"chopping"-cilantro-with-scissors dire need of a suitable knife. Today, I got my wish. At approximately 2:45 pm, my dear friend passed me a retired, lovingly used but freshly sharpened 10" chef knife.
The knife that I was given has definitely been used, you can tell. Like buying a used bike, I can tell that this blade has battled the bravest sirloins, racks of lamb, and duck breasts. Overcome the tedious tasks of deboning chickens, filleting salmon, and trimming pork loins. The handle is black, faded near the base, missing chunks along the side, and comfortable resting in your hand.
It's a great knife, and not because now it's mine, but because it really reminded me of why we all have resolutions anyway. Why each year we swear to be better people, try new things, push old boundaries, and forgive ourselves for our shortcomings in the previous year. We can all be so hard on ourselves, and for what? Because we're still 5 pounds heavier? Because we're 1 of ten million 20 something's that doesn't have it all figured out?
I think we could all give ourselves some space to not know the answers. To give ourselves the space to be confused, and to not have it all figured out. To absolve ourselves for our mistakes, and to keep loving ourselves and each other for our light and our darkness. To find the courage to accept our shortcomings as a piece of our puzzle, and make resolutions that don't put us on an island, but brings us closer to the people who love us the most.
When I'm cooking, 12 legs are dancing around mine, doing their best to keep the floor clean. Drive-by kisses land on my shoulder, and four hands work around chopping, dicing, searing, and stewing, the pot and sometimes my patience, when I reach for something and it isn't there or I burn myself on my awful electric range. The kitchen is filled with steam and stories about how fun and sometimes challenging the day has been, and big plans for tomorrow. Sometimes I get unexpected outcomes, but nine times out of ten I love them.
I still don't have all of the tools that I need to be a successful home cook, or whatever it is that I'm becoming. But sometimes all you need is a friend, or your only devoted reader, to remind you that you have the power to make resolutions, and to become your absolute best, to create a world that you want to live in, maybe forever. Lets all help each other keep the knife before the knife rack, absolve ourselves for forgotten resolutions, and celebrate our little victories, one dish at a time.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Monday, July 26, 2010
Since Yesterday, Until Tomorrow
Yesterday was my Pop Pop's birthday. Each year I travel to the hill of his gravesite to celebrate his birthday. I've always been silently teased by the irony, but ultimately understood by my family for this ritual. When I was a kid my Pop would sneak roll ups of salami and bags of seed cookies when my Mom wasn't looking-a betrayal to the current diet he was sworn to follow. He would quietly look at me from across his kitchen, lifting his pointer finger to his lips. Secret's safe with me.
I bring seed cookies to his grave, dig a little hole in the soil in front of his tomb stone, and push lit candles into the soil for the wind to blow out. Over the years I've convinced myself that I know he's still near me because eventually the wind blows, and for a moment he's still here. Sneaking seed cookies and rolls of salami when my Mom isn't looking.
This year I got caught up in whatever tedious detail that was on my plate at the time, and I forgot his birthday. And his seed cookies. And since I've remembered that I've missed it, I've been beating myself up for not only what I've missed in 24 hours, but what I've missed in the past year. Since I've "moved on." Since I've "grown up."
I think it's interesting how we keep track of our weeks and days, well, nowadays.
It's been a year since I've posted. And not even figuratively. Down to the week, one year. In the past year I've caught myself saying "since" and "until" more and more. But since and until what?
The ebb and flow of the since-and-until can be terrifying when you've forgotten where you're standing right now, all because you were too busy holding on for the storm you were told was coming tomorrow yesterday.
Each year I renew my calendar with a new starting point. January renews our calendar, but it leaves the fiscal year in the red, the zodiac's spliced and the seasons in flux. What used to be arbitrary dates are now pillars in our personal history creating anniversaries much stronger than calendar days. We catch ourselves living day to day looking forward to whats coming our way, but constantly reminding ourselves of the past. Never present, never focused, never living in the minute.
I've let some days fall off my calendar, forgetting that they've even passed. With a little effort, I've picked up some new dates to add to the 365. Some dates have passed that still leave me heartbroken, others not. Some dates make me blush, others still make me nauseous. Some dates remind me of bright blue walls and exhaust fans, and some remind me of pools with sprinklers.
I'm living in the ebb and flow of the since and until, and it's terrifying and comforting at the same time. I don't know what I'm waiting for, or what the until is. For the first time in a long time, I've stopped counting my weeks since the big fall. I'm not waiting for things to get better, they just are. But some of the big questions still remain. What am I moving towards? What's next.
It's been 11 months since I switched jobs, one month until I can finally celebrate a happy anniversary. One year since I finally started rowing again, one month until my big vacation. I don't know whats next, what I'm waiting for, or what I think is waiting for me. I guess for now, I'll just go with the flow, or in my case, with the breeze.
Happy Birthday
I bring seed cookies to his grave, dig a little hole in the soil in front of his tomb stone, and push lit candles into the soil for the wind to blow out. Over the years I've convinced myself that I know he's still near me because eventually the wind blows, and for a moment he's still here. Sneaking seed cookies and rolls of salami when my Mom isn't looking.
This year I got caught up in whatever tedious detail that was on my plate at the time, and I forgot his birthday. And his seed cookies. And since I've remembered that I've missed it, I've been beating myself up for not only what I've missed in 24 hours, but what I've missed in the past year. Since I've "moved on." Since I've "grown up."
I think it's interesting how we keep track of our weeks and days, well, nowadays.
It's been a year since I've posted. And not even figuratively. Down to the week, one year. In the past year I've caught myself saying "since" and "until" more and more. But since and until what?
The ebb and flow of the since-and-until can be terrifying when you've forgotten where you're standing right now, all because you were too busy holding on for the storm you were told was coming tomorrow yesterday.
Each year I renew my calendar with a new starting point. January renews our calendar, but it leaves the fiscal year in the red, the zodiac's spliced and the seasons in flux. What used to be arbitrary dates are now pillars in our personal history creating anniversaries much stronger than calendar days. We catch ourselves living day to day looking forward to whats coming our way, but constantly reminding ourselves of the past. Never present, never focused, never living in the minute.
I've let some days fall off my calendar, forgetting that they've even passed. With a little effort, I've picked up some new dates to add to the 365. Some dates have passed that still leave me heartbroken, others not. Some dates make me blush, others still make me nauseous. Some dates remind me of bright blue walls and exhaust fans, and some remind me of pools with sprinklers.
I'm living in the ebb and flow of the since and until, and it's terrifying and comforting at the same time. I don't know what I'm waiting for, or what the until is. For the first time in a long time, I've stopped counting my weeks since the big fall. I'm not waiting for things to get better, they just are. But some of the big questions still remain. What am I moving towards? What's next.
It's been 11 months since I switched jobs, one month until I can finally celebrate a happy anniversary. One year since I finally started rowing again, one month until my big vacation. I don't know whats next, what I'm waiting for, or what I think is waiting for me. I guess for now, I'll just go with the flow, or in my case, with the breeze.
Happy Birthday
Friday, December 25, 2009
2009
“Think back one year.
What were the top 3 things you experienced? How did you grow? What did you learn? Who supported you? What did you transcend? What light came into your life?
What were the top 3 things you experienced? How did you grow? What did you learn? Who supported you? What did you transcend? What light came into your life?
I haven't had much time to write these past six months, but to stay in line with this time last year, I wanted to ask myself the same questions, and compare answers.
It's funny how some answers change so drastically while others stay the same. I stopped myself from reading the entire post, because I wanted to answer this year honestly. 2009 was interesting, from start to finish. The first day in January I spent jet-lagged in a pink dress.
Top 3 things experienced:
1. Finding myself on a bike ride through France, and being shockingly surprised, and happy to find the girl I used to know.
2. Breaking, but more importantly, healing when I didn't think it was possible.
3. Taking a risk and jumping.
It's funny how some answers change so drastically while others stay the same. I stopped myself from reading the entire post, because I wanted to answer this year honestly. 2009 was interesting, from start to finish. The first day in January I spent jet-lagged in a pink dress.
Top 3 things experienced:
1. Finding myself on a bike ride through France, and being shockingly surprised, and happy to find the girl I used to know.
2. Breaking, but more importantly, healing when I didn't think it was possible.
3. Taking a risk and jumping.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
near and far
There's been a lot of traveling in the midst as of late.
I just got back from Europe, spending 18 days throughout the Netherlands, Belgium, France and Italy. I had an amazing time. Stretching my wings and flying around, finding new faces and corners of the world that made it easier to smile, easier to breathe, and easier to write.
I managed to keep a journal to record thoughts here and there, pieces of scrap paper to remind me of moments, and a few scars on my legs (to add to the pile) that will still help me tell my story in years to come.
I haven't really written anything longer than a blog post, and if I have, I haven't shared it. Not even with my mother. Which says a lot. I'm always "writing in my head" as I tell my mother, when she finds me staring off into a rock, or a corner, or at my feet. She was really a sport while we were traveling around and I would spontaneously bolt for my bag, sit down and write for a minute.
That being said, I'm going to buckle down and write down the long version of my trip. Not that anyone needs to read it, but I need to get the words out of me and onto paper. Because honestly, I'm running out of room in the cramped space in my chest. And some thoughts and feelings should go recorded, even if it's just for me.
I've made a few trips that have changed my life. That sounds dramatic huh? But it's true. Hopefully, by the time this short story (?) is done it will cover events, the impact, and why any of it mattered. I read a book while I was riding the rail system about a women who was the first woman to row across the Atlantic ocean in a single. She said it wasn't enough to write about the rowing, she had to talk about the boat, the woman, and the ocean. And it's true.
To be continued...
pictures will be here soon! I know I always say that, but this time I promise
I just got back from Europe, spending 18 days throughout the Netherlands, Belgium, France and Italy. I had an amazing time. Stretching my wings and flying around, finding new faces and corners of the world that made it easier to smile, easier to breathe, and easier to write.
I managed to keep a journal to record thoughts here and there, pieces of scrap paper to remind me of moments, and a few scars on my legs (to add to the pile) that will still help me tell my story in years to come.
I haven't really written anything longer than a blog post, and if I have, I haven't shared it. Not even with my mother. Which says a lot. I'm always "writing in my head" as I tell my mother, when she finds me staring off into a rock, or a corner, or at my feet. She was really a sport while we were traveling around and I would spontaneously bolt for my bag, sit down and write for a minute.
That being said, I'm going to buckle down and write down the long version of my trip. Not that anyone needs to read it, but I need to get the words out of me and onto paper. Because honestly, I'm running out of room in the cramped space in my chest. And some thoughts and feelings should go recorded, even if it's just for me.
I've made a few trips that have changed my life. That sounds dramatic huh? But it's true. Hopefully, by the time this short story (?) is done it will cover events, the impact, and why any of it mattered. I read a book while I was riding the rail system about a women who was the first woman to row across the Atlantic ocean in a single. She said it wasn't enough to write about the rowing, she had to talk about the boat, the woman, and the ocean. And it's true.
To be continued...
pictures will be here soon! I know I always say that, but this time I promise
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
bottled up, boxed up
I remember the day I cleaned out my apartment and moved from 15th and Spruce to Queen Village. I came home from labor day weekend to find my entire apartment filled, floor to ceiling, with roaches. Some dead in my toilet and bathtub, some roaming free on the walls and on the floors. Apparently my dear o'neighbor set a roach bomb while I was gone, and they all ran under the floorboards and walls.
Poor stella (RIP kitty) was left to fend for herself, battling against the roughest bugs on the east coast. I on the other hand wasn't prepped for the battle, and spent the night on a friends couch.
The next day I came home to clean up the mess. Top to bottom I sprayed, laid traps, disinfected as much as I could. At the end of the night there wasn't a bug to be found. I decided a bath was the way to go. I turned the nozzle on the bathtub on and i saw something JUMP up at me. It was a mouse. Swimming. Swimming in my bathtub.
I bought boxes the next day.
I've boxed up my life many times now. There's something cathartic about putting all of your belongings into a box. Deciding what is worth packing, what is worth leaving behind, what should go to good will, and what belongs in the trash. Forever.
In all the times I've boxed up my life, I've found that it's during a pivotal time in my life. When I'm leaving my first one bedroom apartment, when I'm moving across the country, when I'm moving back across the country, when I'm establishing my space in an oh-so-cramped world.
The process of boxing up memories can be the worst. Re-reading letters of love, tokens of good times, and clothing with memories too painful to revisit. Well not all painful. You get a very unique opportunity to watch yourself grow. To see a transformation from year to year. In shoe choice, in home decor, in underwear, in love. You can see a change from that of a girl to a woman, from that of a lover to a loved one, from that of a significant to an insignificant, from cowering to courageous.
We box up and bottle up everything that's too overwhelming, daunting, or challenging. Throw on a shipping label or a 3x5 cards labeled "livingroom", "fragile", "open when you're ready."Why? Why not throw it all out for a landfill to deal with? Closure? Once something is packed and shipped it's gone for good? We think.
I've unpacked enough boxes in my day to say the least. The latest was probably the worst. Although good friends helped sort the dry cleaning from the washer safe, the living room from the "open on a rainy day."It brought back old memories involving hoop earrings and christmas cards. But finally closure, on the opposite end of a box that I didn't pack myself.
Gone are trips to the beach, vegas and new york. Scrambled eggs and bacon, movies at the ritz, walks to the park, sunday mornings, chinese food in the middle of the night, special light through my window, blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies. Bottles of wine, dinner over candle light, and pumps from west broadway. Mexican food, plans for the wine country, shoulder nook, love in the morning, grey's anatomy during finals, nina simone at the end of the day. Never learning to dance, singing while fast sleep, singing while crying. Walking through the snow, meeting in the cold, my red nose in the winter, my cold toes in the morning, my hair through the sunroof.
Bottle it up, box it up. I'm ready for the next move.
Poor stella (RIP kitty) was left to fend for herself, battling against the roughest bugs on the east coast. I on the other hand wasn't prepped for the battle, and spent the night on a friends couch.
The next day I came home to clean up the mess. Top to bottom I sprayed, laid traps, disinfected as much as I could. At the end of the night there wasn't a bug to be found. I decided a bath was the way to go. I turned the nozzle on the bathtub on and i saw something JUMP up at me. It was a mouse. Swimming. Swimming in my bathtub.
I bought boxes the next day.
I've boxed up my life many times now. There's something cathartic about putting all of your belongings into a box. Deciding what is worth packing, what is worth leaving behind, what should go to good will, and what belongs in the trash. Forever.
In all the times I've boxed up my life, I've found that it's during a pivotal time in my life. When I'm leaving my first one bedroom apartment, when I'm moving across the country, when I'm moving back across the country, when I'm establishing my space in an oh-so-cramped world.
The process of boxing up memories can be the worst. Re-reading letters of love, tokens of good times, and clothing with memories too painful to revisit. Well not all painful. You get a very unique opportunity to watch yourself grow. To see a transformation from year to year. In shoe choice, in home decor, in underwear, in love. You can see a change from that of a girl to a woman, from that of a lover to a loved one, from that of a significant to an insignificant, from cowering to courageous.
We box up and bottle up everything that's too overwhelming, daunting, or challenging. Throw on a shipping label or a 3x5 cards labeled "livingroom", "fragile", "open when you're ready."Why? Why not throw it all out for a landfill to deal with? Closure? Once something is packed and shipped it's gone for good? We think.
I've unpacked enough boxes in my day to say the least. The latest was probably the worst. Although good friends helped sort the dry cleaning from the washer safe, the living room from the "open on a rainy day."It brought back old memories involving hoop earrings and christmas cards. But finally closure, on the opposite end of a box that I didn't pack myself.
Gone are trips to the beach, vegas and new york. Scrambled eggs and bacon, movies at the ritz, walks to the park, sunday mornings, chinese food in the middle of the night, special light through my window, blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies. Bottles of wine, dinner over candle light, and pumps from west broadway. Mexican food, plans for the wine country, shoulder nook, love in the morning, grey's anatomy during finals, nina simone at the end of the day. Never learning to dance, singing while fast sleep, singing while crying. Walking through the snow, meeting in the cold, my red nose in the winter, my cold toes in the morning, my hair through the sunroof.
Bottle it up, box it up. I'm ready for the next move.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
fun
This past weekend my partner in downtown crime was kind enough to accompany me to the old ceremony concert. It's been my deep dark secret dream to perform on stage. Not in the stripper way, but in the iplayanintrumentandsingallatthesametime kind of talent. Dream=realized this past sunday. Well, kinda ;) I got to play tambourine for one of my favorite bands during one of my favorite songs. It was damn near perfect.
Four gin and tonics later Lana and I were chatting up the band and generally being charming. Thank god Lana has tact, because she grabbed me by the belt and threw me out of the concert right after I passed my suave and charming peak, and before the words started jumbling, or confessions of love started to flow. A trip to the karaoke bar and a bowl of cheesefries later we called it a night. What can I say, we're classy broads.
The next day I headed to the beach for my first day of the season. Oh fun in the sun, swimming in the ocean, building sand people, drinking PBR, taking naps on the beach....fuck. Naps on the beach. I'm pail, very pail. I'm pretty sure I've been told that one shade decrease would result in clear skin. I woke up after a twenty minute nap with the most painful sunburn to date.
I've been sleeping and working on my stomach for the past two days, and trying, oh so desperately, to explain to Puck why he can't jump on me. So confused ("Mom?! you don't LOVE ME?!?!"). I must say, I'm a little pathetic, and felt oh so sheepish when I had to approach my boss and ask to work from home because my ass and thighs were LITERALLY on fire. Thank god for understanding employers with daughters.
In other exciting news, I finally bought myself one of those snazzy, skinny, digital camera's, so before you know it more pictures will be involved in the blogging. Excellent. To be continued...
Four gin and tonics later Lana and I were chatting up the band and generally being charming. Thank god Lana has tact, because she grabbed me by the belt and threw me out of the concert right after I passed my suave and charming peak, and before the words started jumbling, or confessions of love started to flow. A trip to the karaoke bar and a bowl of cheesefries later we called it a night. What can I say, we're classy broads.
The next day I headed to the beach for my first day of the season. Oh fun in the sun, swimming in the ocean, building sand people, drinking PBR, taking naps on the beach....fuck. Naps on the beach. I'm pail, very pail. I'm pretty sure I've been told that one shade decrease would result in clear skin. I woke up after a twenty minute nap with the most painful sunburn to date.
I've been sleeping and working on my stomach for the past two days, and trying, oh so desperately, to explain to Puck why he can't jump on me. So confused ("Mom?! you don't LOVE ME?!?!"). I must say, I'm a little pathetic, and felt oh so sheepish when I had to approach my boss and ask to work from home because my ass and thighs were LITERALLY on fire. Thank god for understanding employers with daughters.
In other exciting news, I finally bought myself one of those snazzy, skinny, digital camera's, so before you know it more pictures will be involved in the blogging. Excellent. To be continued...
Thursday, June 4, 2009
aha! dont forget...
Thought I'd throw it up here that The Old Ceremony is playing the Tin Angel this Saturday at 9:30. An excellent destination after the Roots Picnic if I say so myself. You might remember, I posted their new album a bit ago. Check them out if you can, you won't be disappointed!
shows
So I finally managed to run over to Kung Fu Necktie, which I have to be honest, I drive past the place everyday. This whole time I was convinced it was a tattoo parlor. Anyway, the interior is awesome, with very comfy booths and barstools and even better, fabulous bartenders. At one point, in my haste to dance, I left my purse sitting on my barstool like an amateur, and the bartender grabbed it and put it up on the shelf so no one would steal anything.
We're called the city of brotherly love for a reason. And in the spirit of love, I bring you Love is All, a wonderful band with a great sound. The lead singer is this super cute, 5 foot nothin chic from across the pond. We're so lucky to have such a vibrant music scene in the area. I'm really spoiled by the venues in a 1 mile radius. I'm never moving.
Listen, enjoy, love.
We're called the city of brotherly love for a reason. And in the spirit of love, I bring you Love is All, a wonderful band with a great sound. The lead singer is this super cute, 5 foot nothin chic from across the pond. We're so lucky to have such a vibrant music scene in the area. I'm really spoiled by the venues in a 1 mile radius. I'm never moving.
Listen, enjoy, love.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
i want these
silly but true. they're just so darn cute! when i file, i file in style...
donations to my new home office can be made here in case someone out there is interested ;)
donations to my new home office can be made here in case someone out there is interested ;)
Thursday, May 28, 2009
tired of feeling guilty
The to-do list has become a little overwhelming as of late. I need to find a way to get to the end of my to-d0 list, or accept that I can't be in 10 places at the same time, prioritize, and get over it. A few things....
1. My laundry goes from the dryer to my hamper then worn. My clothes rarely make it to the closet or the drawer, and i REALLLLY want to be one of those people that organizes their clothes by color, that presses them before they're hung, that matches their socks, that knows where "that shirt" is...I've tried, honest I have.
2. I've had a toothache for the past two weeks and I'm too stubborn to go to the dentist. I hate the dentist, and I can honestly say, my dentist hates me. I swear his voice drops every time he hears me on the other line. But I have this pang of guilt every time I eat something, swear to make an appointment, and don't follow through.
3. I need to either learn how to speak French with Bamba (my west African French tutor) or just skip it. My French books look at me, all dusty and such, and yell." YOU! YOU THERE! Je ne parle pas FRENCH?! NO, no you DON'T!" Something needs to be done about talking books...
4. Which brings me to the pile of books next to my bed that have been neglected. I was on a roll, then I wasn't. Now Ayn Rand has taken permanent residency under my lamp, collecting dust. I need to read it, or give it back.
5. The chairs that I swore would be recovered in weeks still remain, uncovered and shedding stuffing almost a year later. Honestly em, is it that hard? You covered a sectional couch in a WEEKEND, I think you can handle the chairs. Just not enough time.
6. Credit card debt. I think that's enough said. I made some bad travel decisions, some bad clothes decisions, and well....bad, bad decisions in the past 5 years that surface as a monthly reminder on the 15th and 22nd of every month.
7. Biggest disappointment of the spring, my garden. I had this big plan to create beds with half veggies and half flowers. No such garden had materialized (however, to give credit where it's due, my flower box is choc' full o' pansies). I really need to decide if it's going to happen before Europe.
8. Cooking for myself has always been a chore that I've avoided. I'm the queen of eating at restaurants, boxes of mac and cheese, and take-out sandwiches for lunch. The half of it is always working in restaurants, but now that i'm (gasp) getting older, I've considered buckling down and cooking. I hate the idea of it. I hate food shopping. As Leah tells me, I snack shop, not food shop.
9. My lack of a home office or personal computer. It's really getting old.
Despite all the guilt, things that I can be happy for...
1) I'm painting like a mad woman
2) My traveling dream is happening in less than 28 days
3) The boys and I finally have some more quality time
4) I started rowing again
5) I'm going to more shows than I have in years
1. My laundry goes from the dryer to my hamper then worn. My clothes rarely make it to the closet or the drawer, and i REALLLLY want to be one of those people that organizes their clothes by color, that presses them before they're hung, that matches their socks, that knows where "that shirt" is...I've tried, honest I have.
2. I've had a toothache for the past two weeks and I'm too stubborn to go to the dentist. I hate the dentist, and I can honestly say, my dentist hates me. I swear his voice drops every time he hears me on the other line. But I have this pang of guilt every time I eat something, swear to make an appointment, and don't follow through.
3. I need to either learn how to speak French with Bamba (my west African French tutor) or just skip it. My French books look at me, all dusty and such, and yell." YOU! YOU THERE! Je ne parle pas FRENCH?! NO, no you DON'T!" Something needs to be done about talking books...
4. Which brings me to the pile of books next to my bed that have been neglected. I was on a roll, then I wasn't. Now Ayn Rand has taken permanent residency under my lamp, collecting dust. I need to read it, or give it back.
5. The chairs that I swore would be recovered in weeks still remain, uncovered and shedding stuffing almost a year later. Honestly em, is it that hard? You covered a sectional couch in a WEEKEND, I think you can handle the chairs. Just not enough time.
6. Credit card debt. I think that's enough said. I made some bad travel decisions, some bad clothes decisions, and well....bad, bad decisions in the past 5 years that surface as a monthly reminder on the 15th and 22nd of every month.
7. Biggest disappointment of the spring, my garden. I had this big plan to create beds with half veggies and half flowers. No such garden had materialized (however, to give credit where it's due, my flower box is choc' full o' pansies). I really need to decide if it's going to happen before Europe.
8. Cooking for myself has always been a chore that I've avoided. I'm the queen of eating at restaurants, boxes of mac and cheese, and take-out sandwiches for lunch. The half of it is always working in restaurants, but now that i'm (gasp) getting older, I've considered buckling down and cooking. I hate the idea of it. I hate food shopping. As Leah tells me, I snack shop, not food shop.
9. My lack of a home office or personal computer. It's really getting old.
Despite all the guilt, things that I can be happy for...
1) I'm painting like a mad woman
2) My traveling dream is happening in less than 28 days
3) The boys and I finally have some more quality time
4) I started rowing again
5) I'm going to more shows than I have in years
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
updates from the desk of...
It's pretty ridiculous when you only have time to update your blog monthly. I'm surprised it hasn't been cycled out of the internet, taken to cyber pastures to make room for someone else to babble. But again, some noteworthy events have gone down that are fun to share....
The Week: Mom kept asking me leading up to my annual event, "honey, is it your week yet?", which taken out of context, announced in a supermarket may mislead anyone else in the isle. "WHY NO MOM, IT'S NOT ENTREPRENEURSHIP WEEK YET" hoping desperately that the cute guy shopping for taco shells heard me rather than my mother. None the less, the event went off very well thanks to the help of some very talented individuals. Yay!
My Mom is a Rock Star: But seriously, she is. Mama graduated from Temple this month with a B.A. in Community and Regional Planning and a minor in architecture. God she's a slacker. Someone should really talk to her.....She was absolutely radiant the entire day, and really rocked a gown like it was her job. I'm so damn proud of her for sticking with it, and for being such a smart cookie. Go mom!
Richard is One with the Lord: After lots of school, work, and praying Richard is officially a priest. He was ordained in the Cathedral Basilica of Peter and Paul during a beautiful ceremony. The whole process was very touching, with good friends and family there to support him and his big step. The rest of the weekend consisted of luncheons and enough gin to help me deal with my grandmother. Sometimes there just aren't enough distilleries...
Holy Smokes Jakey is 23: Yea that's right, you heard me. Twentyfuckingthree. My little brother. He's such a grownup it's scary. I feel bad because his birthday has fallen on a "richard holiday" for the past 8 years, so his time to shine is always shared. However, this was the last of it. We celebrated my dear brother with yummy cake and wine. Jakey, as always, I love you. Thanks for being here :)
Hot Damn the Roots are Sexy: Still. It's hard not to love them, they have such a great stage presence and rep Philly like non other. I shot up to NYC to meet up with some friends and, while grabbing myself a drink, turned to check out the opening band. Turns out a friend of mine was opening for the Roots. How. Cool. Is. THAT?!?!?! Very cool...we all managed to climb back into the car by 3, get home by 5 and get to work by 8. I think I'm getting too old for that schedule!
Don't Stop Believin': Hold on to that feeeeeeeeeEEElllLLiiiNNNN! My first wedding coordinating gig went off without a hitch...well kinda. After I removed dead birds from the aisle, moved 150 chairs to the opposite side of a field in less than 15 minutes, was asked by the maitre d' if this was "what I was wearing", and sewn three bustles into Kendra's dress we were all set to go. Everyone had a wonderful time and the night ended exactly as it should have, with Journey. Congrats to Kendra & Dave!
All of this time with family and friends always gets me thinking about how fluid families have become. Good friends are sisters, nieces feel like your own children, pups are extensions of your arms. Each year we gather together for holidays, birthdays, graduations, housewarmings...and each year we have some new faces, some faces have also gone missing, some that weren't expected, some we saw from a mile away. So yes, different, but better? or worse?
The new faces can be so exciting; new babies, new puppies, new love...but the missing faces are always so stark and hurt when you least expect it. Eating a slice of pie, ordering veal piccata, standing with a friend before she walks down the aisle, opening a bottle of wine, holding a dozen roses, holding a single rose. In these moments our minds flash forward and backwards like a pendulum, with hope, with sadness, with butterflies, with heartache.
And we cling to memories as if they are fleeting, and warmth as it fades, with a desperation that if we don't hold tight enough, if the memories get foggy, that the moment, the love, the people will be lost. Is there a balance? How do we hold on? Do we whisper "I love you" whenever we think of them, and hope they're somewhere out there to hear us? Sit down with memories until they feel so real we can touch them?
To all the newcomers, welcome, we love you so much. To those lost, we love you still, and miss you endlessly. To those who will always be there, come rain or shine, thank you. And as always, limitless love for you too.
pictures to come....
The Week: Mom kept asking me leading up to my annual event, "honey, is it your week yet?", which taken out of context, announced in a supermarket may mislead anyone else in the isle. "WHY NO MOM, IT'S NOT ENTREPRENEURSHIP WEEK YET" hoping desperately that the cute guy shopping for taco shells heard me rather than my mother. None the less, the event went off very well thanks to the help of some very talented individuals. Yay!
My Mom is a Rock Star: But seriously, she is. Mama graduated from Temple this month with a B.A. in Community and Regional Planning and a minor in architecture. God she's a slacker. Someone should really talk to her.....She was absolutely radiant the entire day, and really rocked a gown like it was her job. I'm so damn proud of her for sticking with it, and for being such a smart cookie. Go mom!
Richard is One with the Lord: After lots of school, work, and praying Richard is officially a priest. He was ordained in the Cathedral Basilica of Peter and Paul during a beautiful ceremony. The whole process was very touching, with good friends and family there to support him and his big step. The rest of the weekend consisted of luncheons and enough gin to help me deal with my grandmother. Sometimes there just aren't enough distilleries...
Holy Smokes Jakey is 23: Yea that's right, you heard me. Twentyfuckingthree. My little brother. He's such a grownup it's scary. I feel bad because his birthday has fallen on a "richard holiday" for the past 8 years, so his time to shine is always shared. However, this was the last of it. We celebrated my dear brother with yummy cake and wine. Jakey, as always, I love you. Thanks for being here :)
Hot Damn the Roots are Sexy: Still. It's hard not to love them, they have such a great stage presence and rep Philly like non other. I shot up to NYC to meet up with some friends and, while grabbing myself a drink, turned to check out the opening band. Turns out a friend of mine was opening for the Roots. How. Cool. Is. THAT?!?!?! Very cool...we all managed to climb back into the car by 3, get home by 5 and get to work by 8. I think I'm getting too old for that schedule!
Don't Stop Believin': Hold on to that feeeeeeeeeEEElllLLiiiNNNN! My first wedding coordinating gig went off without a hitch...well kinda. After I removed dead birds from the aisle, moved 150 chairs to the opposite side of a field in less than 15 minutes, was asked by the maitre d' if this was "what I was wearing", and sewn three bustles into Kendra's dress we were all set to go. Everyone had a wonderful time and the night ended exactly as it should have, with Journey. Congrats to Kendra & Dave!
All of this time with family and friends always gets me thinking about how fluid families have become. Good friends are sisters, nieces feel like your own children, pups are extensions of your arms. Each year we gather together for holidays, birthdays, graduations, housewarmings...and each year we have some new faces, some faces have also gone missing, some that weren't expected, some we saw from a mile away. So yes, different, but better? or worse?
The new faces can be so exciting; new babies, new puppies, new love...but the missing faces are always so stark and hurt when you least expect it. Eating a slice of pie, ordering veal piccata, standing with a friend before she walks down the aisle, opening a bottle of wine, holding a dozen roses, holding a single rose. In these moments our minds flash forward and backwards like a pendulum, with hope, with sadness, with butterflies, with heartache.
And we cling to memories as if they are fleeting, and warmth as it fades, with a desperation that if we don't hold tight enough, if the memories get foggy, that the moment, the love, the people will be lost. Is there a balance? How do we hold on? Do we whisper "I love you" whenever we think of them, and hope they're somewhere out there to hear us? Sit down with memories until they feel so real we can touch them?
To all the newcomers, welcome, we love you so much. To those lost, we love you still, and miss you endlessly. To those who will always be there, come rain or shine, thank you. And as always, limitless love for you too.
pictures to come....
Thursday, April 9, 2009
1000 words
I didn't have a camera
If i had a camera it would have told you about the view of the sunset through a battered mesh fence from the Girard el stop. Above the avenue, looking down at cabs, and SUVs trying to dodge pot holes and new construction. The steeple of St John Newman piercing the fading blue sky, and clouds terrorizing the escaping sun. It might tell you about the different colors and perspective of my left and right eye;
switch, switch.
switch, switch.
camera a, camera b.
camera a, camera b.
It would have taken a blurred shot filled with commotion as the city flashed past like a flip book, our train racing through 80 blocks of Philadelphia's wealth and poverty. Above ground, underground, above ground. I watched the colors and shapes change, station to station, mirrored by the reflection of my brother. A reflection that has changed over the history of our taking sub rides together. He used to be shorter. I used to wear less makeup.
A camera would tell you about our stint in the 69th street terminal, getting lost in the maze of stairwells and revolving doors, then finally making it across Market Street, passing one to many people just looking for a little help. A quarter here, some food there, nothing too much, if it's not too much of a bother. Knowing full well that I was going to spend any available cash on overpriced merchandise and whiskey. Head down, walking just a little faster to avoid the pang of guilt for saying sorry buddy, can't help you.
We waited in line to find out that 2 beers and 2 shots of jameson is running at $35 collectively. A lens may have captured the belly laugh to follow. Or maybe not. I learned pretty quickly that a shot in a crowd turns into a half shot at the back of the room. Round two brought the wisdom to drink at a counter. $40 more got us matching tshirts. "can we geek out and wear them now?" "no....but we can later when we're shooting pool and singing obnoxiously at the bar." I love a good compromise.
The birds eye view with a wide angle shot of the room could have shown the rest of the hustle around us dissipate into slow motion, then softly disappear when i finally got the chance to talk things over with a guy who's seen it all; permed bangs in the second grade, running away from home with peanut butter crackers, failing chemistry, repeating mistakes; and still doesn't mind spending his nights going to see a show with me. Catching up on something on his mind, something on my mind. Remembering how funny he can be when he isn't wrapped up in being an asshole, just 'cause.
More beers, more music, more drums and we grab seats. Plush and red. Three trips to the bathroom later through crowds of women, or should I say girls, far too young to appreciate their seats, and the lights finally dim. If i had a high quality camera, and a solid tripod, it would have shown you the spotlight on the guts of the guitar, slowly panning out to reveal fingers attached to a hand, attached to a man with a voice I could recognize without ever meeting, and a stage of filled with musicians. Even slower yet, the infusion of red light emerging from the darkness, and finally the glow reaching our faces, bouncing from neighbor to neighbor.
If i had a camera it may have captured the panning light from head to toe, of the warmth that blue light creates on my eyelids, or the vibration that the bass line sends through my hip bones. It may have told about the moment when we were all finally communicating on the same page through pitch and tone. About the tingle in my nose that i feel every time I'm about to cry, and the wave of cool blood that runs down my face when I hear my favorite song.
It could have shown the small moment that my brother danced with me, or better yet, the hours that he let me stand in the crowd and dance alone. even when i was the only one standing, the only one dancing, and the only one singing along. All without a single demand for me to sit down. all without an eye roll. because he knew it's what i needed.
If i had a camera i would have been lazy, and would have returned with 5 pictures of my brother and i, and maybe a dark stage. I would have missed the reflection, the connection, the tingle in my nose. I would have let another concert pass without writing down how i really felt. How music finds a way to communicate when i can't, how cords have always felt right when the world is feeling oh so wrong. How music is the one of the few things that can make a rainy day bearable, a sunny day brighter, a shitty day tolerable, and bring a devastating day to an end.
Back on the subway, no words, no crazy drunken photo's. Just sound. Wheels on the tracks and a car filled with people humming, "i need you so much closer." And it's true, I do.
If i had a camera it would have told you about the view of the sunset through a battered mesh fence from the Girard el stop. Above the avenue, looking down at cabs, and SUVs trying to dodge pot holes and new construction. The steeple of St John Newman piercing the fading blue sky, and clouds terrorizing the escaping sun. It might tell you about the different colors and perspective of my left and right eye;
switch, switch.
switch, switch.
camera a, camera b.
camera a, camera b.
It would have taken a blurred shot filled with commotion as the city flashed past like a flip book, our train racing through 80 blocks of Philadelphia's wealth and poverty. Above ground, underground, above ground. I watched the colors and shapes change, station to station, mirrored by the reflection of my brother. A reflection that has changed over the history of our taking sub rides together. He used to be shorter. I used to wear less makeup.
A camera would tell you about our stint in the 69th street terminal, getting lost in the maze of stairwells and revolving doors, then finally making it across Market Street, passing one to many people just looking for a little help. A quarter here, some food there, nothing too much, if it's not too much of a bother. Knowing full well that I was going to spend any available cash on overpriced merchandise and whiskey. Head down, walking just a little faster to avoid the pang of guilt for saying sorry buddy, can't help you.
We waited in line to find out that 2 beers and 2 shots of jameson is running at $35 collectively. A lens may have captured the belly laugh to follow. Or maybe not. I learned pretty quickly that a shot in a crowd turns into a half shot at the back of the room. Round two brought the wisdom to drink at a counter. $40 more got us matching tshirts. "can we geek out and wear them now?" "no....but we can later when we're shooting pool and singing obnoxiously at the bar." I love a good compromise.
The birds eye view with a wide angle shot of the room could have shown the rest of the hustle around us dissipate into slow motion, then softly disappear when i finally got the chance to talk things over with a guy who's seen it all; permed bangs in the second grade, running away from home with peanut butter crackers, failing chemistry, repeating mistakes; and still doesn't mind spending his nights going to see a show with me. Catching up on something on his mind, something on my mind. Remembering how funny he can be when he isn't wrapped up in being an asshole, just 'cause.
More beers, more music, more drums and we grab seats. Plush and red. Three trips to the bathroom later through crowds of women, or should I say girls, far too young to appreciate their seats, and the lights finally dim. If i had a high quality camera, and a solid tripod, it would have shown you the spotlight on the guts of the guitar, slowly panning out to reveal fingers attached to a hand, attached to a man with a voice I could recognize without ever meeting, and a stage of filled with musicians. Even slower yet, the infusion of red light emerging from the darkness, and finally the glow reaching our faces, bouncing from neighbor to neighbor.
If i had a camera it may have captured the panning light from head to toe, of the warmth that blue light creates on my eyelids, or the vibration that the bass line sends through my hip bones. It may have told about the moment when we were all finally communicating on the same page through pitch and tone. About the tingle in my nose that i feel every time I'm about to cry, and the wave of cool blood that runs down my face when I hear my favorite song.
It could have shown the small moment that my brother danced with me, or better yet, the hours that he let me stand in the crowd and dance alone. even when i was the only one standing, the only one dancing, and the only one singing along. All without a single demand for me to sit down. all without an eye roll. because he knew it's what i needed.
If i had a camera i would have been lazy, and would have returned with 5 pictures of my brother and i, and maybe a dark stage. I would have missed the reflection, the connection, the tingle in my nose. I would have let another concert pass without writing down how i really felt. How music finds a way to communicate when i can't, how cords have always felt right when the world is feeling oh so wrong. How music is the one of the few things that can make a rainy day bearable, a sunny day brighter, a shitty day tolerable, and bring a devastating day to an end.
Back on the subway, no words, no crazy drunken photo's. Just sound. Wheels on the tracks and a car filled with people humming, "i need you so much closer." And it's true, I do.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
shows, shows, and more shows
Sitting around the other night with not much to do, I flipped through the area shows: JBs, Barbary, KungFu Necktie, the Fire, M Room...aha! the M Room, how you saved my Thursday night.
I was lucky enough to catch the opening band, and was floored by how good these guys are. Shipped in from Lousiana, this trio had amazing stage energy. After the show I met up with them, got to chatting, and managed to score two free cds! Their album really doesn't do them justice. I left the concert all glowy and bubbly, describing "if the Boss and Fall Out Boy birthed a child down south I think it would sound alot like these guys." People, I give you the Sons of William...
Message - Sons of William
Savannah - Sons of William
Lucifer Hands - Sons of William
Follow by Val Emmich, also a sure bet for musical entertainment....do listen, my fav being hurt more later, as he described as a song "for everyone that leaves a relationship while it's working, so you don't have to stick around for the bitter end." He also played a great song for those that have wandered far and wide "Back to Eastern Standard Time" that has only been played on this tour. Hopefully someday soon I can share.
more showing coming- ra ra riot/death cab for cute, gildon works & maria taylor. very.very. happy :)
I was lucky enough to catch the opening band, and was floored by how good these guys are. Shipped in from Lousiana, this trio had amazing stage energy. After the show I met up with them, got to chatting, and managed to score two free cds! Their album really doesn't do them justice. I left the concert all glowy and bubbly, describing "if the Boss and Fall Out Boy birthed a child down south I think it would sound alot like these guys." People, I give you the Sons of William...
Message - Sons of William
Savannah - Sons of William
Lucifer Hands - Sons of William
Follow by Val Emmich, also a sure bet for musical entertainment....do listen, my fav being hurt more later, as he described as a song "for everyone that leaves a relationship while it's working, so you don't have to stick around for the bitter end." He also played a great song for those that have wandered far and wide "Back to Eastern Standard Time" that has only been played on this tour. Hopefully someday soon I can share.
more showing coming- ra ra riot/death cab for cute, gildon works & maria taylor. very.very. happy :)
Thursday, March 26, 2009
i <3 215...
...and everyone knows it. I've been told that I'm philly's biggest cheerleader. And I am. I love this place. I'm running for mayor in 2027 (and I would appreciate your vote!). Not to say that I haven't enjoyed time spent in different corners of this country (and the world), but this will always be home. I find something new to love everyday.
Which is why I was oh so excited when I read this article. I was all smiles. I'm happy to read that other people, and cities (shout out to Ottawa!!) are noticing.
Which is why I was oh so excited when I read this article. I was all smiles. I'm happy to read that other people, and cities (shout out to Ottawa!!) are noticing.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
full house
man`cheetah (noun): gathering of old friends, new friends, and family requiring the bi monthly use of the oven, large consumption of beefy wine, and tiramisu.
man`cheetah (verb): -to mancheetah. to partake in mancheetah activities resulting in low wednesday productivity, dry mouth, nausea, and narcolepsy.
man`cheetah (verb): -to mancheetah. to partake in mancheetah activities resulting in low wednesday productivity, dry mouth, nausea, and narcolepsy.
This week it was my week to cook. Normally not good for anyone, and I've done one HELL of a job dodging cooking for weeks now ("hey lan, will you make that awesome chicken you cook so well? hey kara, I haven't had tofu in forever, why don't I grab some for you?).
BUT if there's anything I've learned in the time spent in the kitchen, it's that if you wrap anything in bacon you're good to go. So alas, chicken stuffed with rosemary & gorgonzola, wrapped in bacon and baked at 350 for 30 or so minutes over brown rice.
Dante and Sherri were sweet enough to stop by with yummy salad, and Lana and Luke came over with tiramisu, Mama and Brian grabbed some wine, Jakey brought raw chicken and film, and Kara never showed (fell asleep at 4 in the afternoon...suspect?). Great group effort :)
This morning was extra hard, but it was so wonderful to have everyone fill the house with good stories and lots of laughs. I took the camera out for the first time in a while and found an old roll of film. Wondering what it could be filled with. Happy memories? Memories that should never be developed? Random pictures of the pups? I'll let you know...**worth mentioning: last week nancy was in town and we had a great time catching up with with the gang. Drinks with jimmy at bar ferdinand (half price mondays, check it out) leading to inappropriate bar behavior, girls high reunion sleepover with mama mia and it's always sunny in philadelphia (horrible transition but always to good to have the girls over) and good times swankin it up at the red ball (R.I.P. red flats) followed by unnecessary argument with an unruly jb's bartender....i guess we'll never go back there!
plenty of great memories, so good to see you!! pictures are on their way....
**the old ceremony finally pulled their shit together and released their next album. stay tuned for a show near you, but in the meantime, feast your ears on this...
....what made me fall in love with them initially (not to mention Django is just damn dreamy...if you're reading this and are ever up for another whiskey let me know ;) )
....and the more recent musical candy (my fav's are murmur and til my voice is gone although i prefer the live version of TMVIG)....
....and the more recent musical candy (my fav's are murmur and til my voice is gone although i prefer the live version of TMVIG)....
enjoy!
Monday, March 16, 2009
7:45 am
I was laying in bed this morning staring at my alarm clock waiting for the perfect song to "wake up" to...didn't want to waste the beginning of the day on just any old song.
Then this came on...
.....and then this came on....
...and then i decided it was time to wake up. I think you'll agree with me. A good way to start a week :)
happy listening!
Then this came on...
.....and then this came on....
...and then i decided it was time to wake up. I think you'll agree with me. A good way to start a week :)
happy listening!
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