donations to my new home office can be made here in case someone out there is interested ;)
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!
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