Tuesday, July 10, 2007
A QUICK 1 mo. OVERVIEW
Went to Chi-town with my GRRRRLs at the beginning of June. Between airplane delays and checking into the wrong hotel we managed to have (in my mind) some of the best 48 hours of our lives.
Before the fine, FINE dining (see below) we went to the original Marshall Fields (now Macy's - sacrelig!) and got FAB-ulous make-overs.
The highlight of the trip (and truly a keystone in my life) was this. Words cannot explain - either you get it, or you don't.
We get it.
A few days later, I turned 25. My sweet Quackie got me the mostly beautiful chef's knife. Folklore says that for a person to give their lover a knife means they want to cut things off. My guess is that Quack just wants me to keep cooking for him.
Just in case, he got me a helmet (pink to match my bike!) I wonder what the lover-to-lover symbolism in that is?
A few days after that I took off for my grandparent's 50th wedding celebration in the Rocky Tops.
The whole fam-damily got together in Colorado in a cabin that slept 14 (I think there were 19 of us) making for close quarters, but luckily we were in Rocky Mnt. Ntl. Park where there is about 10 sq. miles of land for every one who visits.
We paddle-boated and swam and sunned and golfed and did some shopping and horse back ridding and ate and drank and laughed until we all tumbled back down the mountain and back into reality.
My Mom's side of the family is also in CO and my granny threw a mini-reunion bash at her place.
Before I headed off to the airport, my G-mas gave me a zippy of chocolate chip/coffee cookies... YUM!
When I arrived to DIA, I didn't have any singles to tip the luggage carriers, so I gave them cookies and they were so, SO happy. Dollars be damned!
Oh yeah. On the way home a guy had a heart-attack and died on the plane. I wasn't anywhere near him, but the whole thing was very disturbing. (Nuff' said.)
Now I am back in PA doing the newspaper-tango, pencil in teeth like a rose.
Went to Chi-town with my GRRRRLs at the beginning of June. Between airplane delays and checking into the wrong hotel we managed to have (in my mind) some of the best 48 hours of our lives.
Before the fine, FINE dining (see below) we went to the original Marshall Fields (now Macy's - sacrelig!) and got FAB-ulous make-overs.
The highlight of the trip (and truly a keystone in my life) was this. Words cannot explain - either you get it, or you don't.
We get it.
A few days later, I turned 25. My sweet Quackie got me the mostly beautiful chef's knife. Folklore says that for a person to give their lover a knife means they want to cut things off. My guess is that Quack just wants me to keep cooking for him.
Just in case, he got me a helmet (pink to match my bike!) I wonder what the lover-to-lover symbolism in that is?
A few days after that I took off for my grandparent's 50th wedding celebration in the Rocky Tops.
The whole fam-damily got together in Colorado in a cabin that slept 14 (I think there were 19 of us) making for close quarters, but luckily we were in Rocky Mnt. Ntl. Park where there is about 10 sq. miles of land for every one who visits.
We paddle-boated and swam and sunned and golfed and did some shopping and horse back ridding and ate and drank and laughed until we all tumbled back down the mountain and back into reality.
My Mom's side of the family is also in CO and my granny threw a mini-reunion bash at her place.
Before I headed off to the airport, my G-mas gave me a zippy of chocolate chip/coffee cookies... YUM!
When I arrived to DIA, I didn't have any singles to tip the luggage carriers, so I gave them cookies and they were so, SO happy. Dollars be damned!
Oh yeah. On the way home a guy had a heart-attack and died on the plane. I wasn't anywhere near him, but the whole thing was very disturbing. (Nuff' said.)
Now I am back in PA doing the newspaper-tango, pencil in teeth like a rose.
First Time Tag
I've been tagged (read: e-chain letter) by Ms. Blahler. Some may find these annoying, I however need to update my blog.
So, here goes:
8 things about me:
1. I just bought my first car (traded in the Subaru Outback Wagon - which got me through 5 Duluth winters and 7 college/post-college moves - for a sleek iPod on wheels.)
2. I have an obsession/knack for painting my nails. I've trained my usually floppy left hand to paint my right without any wobbles. My favorite color is Cranberry Cream by Cover Girl (now named Magenta something-or-other, but I'm not fooled... I can spot it from a flourecent-aisled mile!)
3. Most of the jewlery I wear is hand-me-down costume jewlery from my Great Grandmother. The brand is "Sarah Coventry" and there is a tiny "SARAH" stamped into most of it. For a while I didn't know SC was as popular as the jitterbug in the 30's and 40's, rather, I thought my Grandmother had intended on giving it to me before she passed away and had everything engraved.
4. I like smoking wine-flavored black and mild cigars (VERY occasionally).
5. I helped bring a homeless shelter to the community I write for.
6.My favorite yoga-pose is a head stand, which my friends will tell you I demonstrate at every opportunity possible.
I learned it while taking a Hatha Yoga class in England from a proper Indian Buddhist (He was working on levitating in the lotus pose when I met him.)
The first day I was in the class (which grossly enough was held in the padded-floor wrestling room of a University) the instructor came up to me while I was struggling into a pose and whispered "A lot harder than the fitness-club American yoga, huh?"
That padded floor, with small curly hairs all over it, saved my arse while I was perfecting it. But it was worth it, especially when it comes time for party-tricks!
7. My parents and Quack's parents were college roommates. He (my BF) was actually in my mom and dad's wedding, as his mother was uber-preggers with him while serving as my mom's maid-of-honor. To this day, our moms and dads are very close friends.
8.I am a total addict of Public Radio. I listen to it in my car (talk and music stations) and on my iPod and on my iPod in my car (but with an adapter to the speakers, not with headphones in!)
So, I guess I'm tagging Eating Through the Year and Scrumpies
I've been tagged (read: e-chain letter) by Ms. Blahler. Some may find these annoying, I however need to update my blog.
So, here goes:
8 things about me:
1. I just bought my first car (traded in the Subaru Outback Wagon - which got me through 5 Duluth winters and 7 college/post-college moves - for a sleek iPod on wheels.)
2. I have an obsession/knack for painting my nails. I've trained my usually floppy left hand to paint my right without any wobbles. My favorite color is Cranberry Cream by Cover Girl (now named Magenta something-or-other, but I'm not fooled... I can spot it from a flourecent-aisled mile!)
3. Most of the jewlery I wear is hand-me-down costume jewlery from my Great Grandmother. The brand is "Sarah Coventry" and there is a tiny "SARAH" stamped into most of it. For a while I didn't know SC was as popular as the jitterbug in the 30's and 40's, rather, I thought my Grandmother had intended on giving it to me before she passed away and had everything engraved.
4. I like smoking wine-flavored black and mild cigars (VERY occasionally).
5. I helped bring a homeless shelter to the community I write for.
6.My favorite yoga-pose is a head stand, which my friends will tell you I demonstrate at every opportunity possible.
I learned it while taking a Hatha Yoga class in England from a proper Indian Buddhist (He was working on levitating in the lotus pose when I met him.)
The first day I was in the class (which grossly enough was held in the padded-floor wrestling room of a University) the instructor came up to me while I was struggling into a pose and whispered "A lot harder than the fitness-club American yoga, huh?"
That padded floor, with small curly hairs all over it, saved my arse while I was perfecting it. But it was worth it, especially when it comes time for party-tricks!
7. My parents and Quack's parents were college roommates. He (my BF) was actually in my mom and dad's wedding, as his mother was uber-preggers with him while serving as my mom's maid-of-honor. To this day, our moms and dads are very close friends.
8.I am a total addict of Public Radio. I listen to it in my car (talk and music stations) and on my iPod and on my iPod in my car (but with an adapter to the speakers, not with headphones in!)
So, I guess I'm tagging Eating Through the Year and Scrumpies
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
What IS that?
I guess I should've included a little more info than just the tattoo picture. But it was a teaser to get all of you to email me!! Ha, ha ha... worked pretty well :-)
Here's how it went:
The tatt is a Ginkgo leaf. They have a lot of good herbal benys and a neat evolution story and blah, blah, blah.... but I just like the way it looked and thought is would go well on my shoulder. Read more about it here.
So anyways, I was strolling through the streets of the community I write for when the lovely Ginkgo twirled down from the sky. This was in the fall and it was a bright toasty yellow. I thought it was pretty, so I picked it up and pressed it in my day planner, where it remained for the last couple of seasons.
And then - SPRING FEVER.
I was killing some time in Philly one fine Thursday this Spring when I passed a neat looking tatt shop. It was called Tikki Tattoo, and it was themed like a cabana with breezy murals and ALL female artists with pretty arm art and dainty facial piercings.
The music wasn't Death Metal, I swear they has some aromatherapy going on and there was even some tea and a back porch to relax on.
It all just felt right.
So I asked if they took walk ins, and they said yes.
My artist Andrew (the only guy in the place), with the help of some transparency paper, sketched the exact leaf I'd been carrying around for my shoulder.
"Perfect!" I thought.
"Lovely," I said.
"Whee!" I felt.
"I have to run down the street and plug my meter," I said. "Be right back."
"Okay. Meet me down there," Andrew said pointing to one of "those" tatt shops a couple of doors down.
I walked back toward "Body Graphics," heels dragging. The Death Metal blared, the bathroom was out-of-order and there were more examples of dragon, skull and serpent tattoos on the walls than I'd ever seen before.
Mistake, right? HUGE. MISTAKE.
But not so my friends, not so.
Andrew turned out to be an awesome jokester who said the Death Metal relaxed him even if it tensed me up - and I suppose he's the one I want relaxed, what with the needle wielding gun and all.
He told me what the howly-sinister metal words were as we went, such as "Zombies Rise!" and "Apocalypse to All!" and we laughed at how stupid it actually sounded in a sweet slowed down MN accent.
Finally, what relived me the most, was the bathroom was actually in-order, they just put the sign up so that every bum off the street wouldn't ask to use it(those Andrew's words.)
At the end, he let me do a little wheelin' and dealin' on the price and I tipped him So that's the story of the Ginkgo leaf on my shoulder- a story that was better on my way out of "Body Graphics" than it was going in.
I guess I should've included a little more info than just the tattoo picture. But it was a teaser to get all of you to email me!! Ha, ha ha... worked pretty well :-)
Here's how it went:
The tatt is a Ginkgo leaf. They have a lot of good herbal benys and a neat evolution story and blah, blah, blah.... but I just like the way it looked and thought is would go well on my shoulder. Read more about it here.
So anyways, I was strolling through the streets of the community I write for when the lovely Ginkgo twirled down from the sky. This was in the fall and it was a bright toasty yellow. I thought it was pretty, so I picked it up and pressed it in my day planner, where it remained for the last couple of seasons.
And then - SPRING FEVER.
I was killing some time in Philly one fine Thursday this Spring when I passed a neat looking tatt shop. It was called Tikki Tattoo, and it was themed like a cabana with breezy murals and ALL female artists with pretty arm art and dainty facial piercings.
The music wasn't Death Metal, I swear they has some aromatherapy going on and there was even some tea and a back porch to relax on.
It all just felt right.
So I asked if they took walk ins, and they said yes.
My artist Andrew (the only guy in the place), with the help of some transparency paper, sketched the exact leaf I'd been carrying around for my shoulder.
"Perfect!" I thought.
"Lovely," I said.
"Whee!" I felt.
"I have to run down the street and plug my meter," I said. "Be right back."
"Okay. Meet me down there," Andrew said pointing to one of "those" tatt shops a couple of doors down.
I walked back toward "Body Graphics," heels dragging. The Death Metal blared, the bathroom was out-of-order and there were more examples of dragon, skull and serpent tattoos on the walls than I'd ever seen before.
Mistake, right? HUGE. MISTAKE.
But not so my friends, not so.
Andrew turned out to be an awesome jokester who said the Death Metal relaxed him even if it tensed me up - and I suppose he's the one I want relaxed, what with the needle wielding gun and all.
He told me what the howly-sinister metal words were as we went, such as "Zombies Rise!" and "Apocalypse to All!" and we laughed at how stupid it actually sounded in a sweet slowed down MN accent.
Finally, what relived me the most, was the bathroom was actually in-order, they just put the sign up so that every bum off the street wouldn't ask to use it(those Andrew's words.)
At the end, he let me do a little wheelin' and dealin' on the price and I tipped him So that's the story of the Ginkgo leaf on my shoulder- a story that was better on my way out of "Body Graphics" than it was going in.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Nice to meet you.
Went to put some fuel in the old Subi-Roo this weekend. It was a Friday around 3p.m. and the Easterners were gassin' up to go to The Shore.
These folks were lined up at the pump like the Iraq War was going out of style.
Motorhomes, motorcycles, motorcars and motorcades had all formed neat little lines according to which side their fuel-filler was on.
With the exception of one middle-to-maximum aged d-bag in a stupid yellow Mustang. You know the color, the one that should be reserved for those with eternally sunny/loony dispositions.
He had situated himself in such a way that which ever pump opened up next he would be able to dart into (I can only assume this is what he was doing in the middle of the lot.)
I unfortunately pulled in right behind him, my parents in tow by the way, (my Dad is ridding shotty and my Mom in the back.) His selfish maneuver made it so I looked like the a-hole with the big-butt of my Subaru hanging out in the middle of the entrance intersection.
I manage to squeak around Mr. Sunshine and pull into a "right-side" gas-tank line.
Evidently, this did not suit Sunny.
He zoomed up next to my window and started mouthing words.
I was so oblivious to doing anything wrong that I rolled down my window and politely said, "Excuse me?"
"I'm Chopped Liver, nice to meet you," he said, his toupee sliding slightly over his right eye.
"Uhhh...." I said, still not understanding that I had foiled his fuel plan.
He continued to rant as I rolled up my window, his insults muffled by the pane and giggles from my mom and I.
"Nice to meet you Chop," my mom sweetly delivered in that Midwest way of hers.
We. lost. it.
----
In other Midwest Mom news:
"I'm in a perpetual state of hotness," claimed my mother (in response to the humidity of course.)
Went to put some fuel in the old Subi-Roo this weekend. It was a Friday around 3p.m. and the Easterners were gassin' up to go to The Shore.
These folks were lined up at the pump like the Iraq War was going out of style.
Motorhomes, motorcycles, motorcars and motorcades had all formed neat little lines according to which side their fuel-filler was on.
With the exception of one middle-to-maximum aged d-bag in a stupid yellow Mustang. You know the color, the one that should be reserved for those with eternally sunny/loony dispositions.
He had situated himself in such a way that which ever pump opened up next he would be able to dart into (I can only assume this is what he was doing in the middle of the lot.)
I unfortunately pulled in right behind him, my parents in tow by the way, (my Dad is ridding shotty and my Mom in the back.) His selfish maneuver made it so I looked like the a-hole with the big-butt of my Subaru hanging out in the middle of the entrance intersection.
I manage to squeak around Mr. Sunshine and pull into a "right-side" gas-tank line.
Evidently, this did not suit Sunny.
He zoomed up next to my window and started mouthing words.
I was so oblivious to doing anything wrong that I rolled down my window and politely said, "Excuse me?"
"I'm Chopped Liver, nice to meet you," he said, his toupee sliding slightly over his right eye.
"Uhhh...." I said, still not understanding that I had foiled his fuel plan.
He continued to rant as I rolled up my window, his insults muffled by the pane and giggles from my mom and I.
"Nice to meet you Chop," my mom sweetly delivered in that Midwest way of hers.
We. lost. it.
----
In other Midwest Mom news:
"I'm in a perpetual state of hotness," claimed my mother (in response to the humidity of course.)
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
10 situations under which 10 blocks can feel like 10 miles:
1. The fender you so lovingly polished - falls off.
2. That skin on your thumb, you didn't need that right?
3. It's only 6 a.m.
4. The stoop-loungers watching you can't help b/c they haven't gone to bed yet.
5. The sidewalks in your city haven't been repaired since the days-of-yore.
6. The bike trail - loose gravel in an old railroad bed. Your bike - wibbly.
7. The gentlest of slopes proves to be too much for the single-speed you posses.
8. You're wearing a helmet - while walking the bike.
9. Even though the peddles are fine, with each pump you're sure they'll fall off.
10. Once you're home - your burning lungs convince you the few cigarettes you've ever smoked were a bad idea.
1. The fender you so lovingly polished - falls off.
2. That skin on your thumb, you didn't need that right?
3. It's only 6 a.m.
4. The stoop-loungers watching you can't help b/c they haven't gone to bed yet.
5. The sidewalks in your city haven't been repaired since the days-of-yore.
6. The bike trail - loose gravel in an old railroad bed. Your bike - wibbly.
7. The gentlest of slopes proves to be too much for the single-speed you posses.
8. You're wearing a helmet - while walking the bike.
9. Even though the peddles are fine, with each pump you're sure they'll fall off.
10. Once you're home - your burning lungs convince you the few cigarettes you've ever smoked were a bad idea.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Operation Spit-Shine (Done and done!)
Maiden voyage was fine.
I ran into my neighbor as I was wibbling (this should say wobbling, but how funny is wibbling?) out of my driveway for the first time...
"Just take it kid-style," he said "You know, ride it up and down the street until you get the hang of it."
Seems to have done the trick.
BTW - It appears that $3(+) per gallon is my breaking point for fuel. I will be riding this baby to work tomorrow (the coffee shop that is 10 blocks away, that is.)
We'll see how round two on ol' Hollywood goes. (Any other name suggestions for my new companion?)
Maiden voyage was fine.
I ran into my neighbor as I was wibbling (this should say wobbling, but how funny is wibbling?) out of my driveway for the first time...
"Just take it kid-style," he said "You know, ride it up and down the street until you get the hang of it."
Seems to have done the trick.
BTW - It appears that $3(+) per gallon is my breaking point for fuel. I will be riding this baby to work tomorrow (the coffee shop that is 10 blocks away, that is.)
We'll see how round two on ol' Hollywood goes. (Any other name suggestions for my new companion?)
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