world on fire

Return to flip-cup

2008-05-04T21:12:00.003-04:00

Remember how I said that we might be turning into grown-ups? Not so fast. Skippy and Jimbo met up with everyone in Jersey this weekend, and when a spare door from Abbey and Adam's garage was turned into an impromptu flip-cup table, it was apparent that some things have stayed the same. Unlike our MSU days, we were spent by 10 p.m. However, Adam kept true to his younger self when he busted open his lip after faceplanting into the kitchen's marble countertop. Of course, he was trying to leap across the room at Skippy, who had just smashed a browning banana into his face. Oh yes, we're maturing...

I guess we really are adults

2008-04-09T20:57:00.002-04:00

In the last six months, my best friend has gotten engaged, bought a house, and "inherited" a dog -- pretty much all of the components of adulthood. I, on the other hand, am looking for another one-bedroom apartment to rent by myself, which probably won't allow pets of any kind. So I guess I'm feeling a bit behind on the life scale... but that's for another post.

Abbey and Adam's new place is so nice. It's a four bedroom, multistory house in Hawthorne, NJ. They moved in last week and I drove over for the weekend to "try" to help them unpack, with limited success. They also picked up their new dog, Frankie, from Abbey's coworker, who gave them the 2-year-old pug with the condition that he still gets to visit from time to time. It was amazing how quickly Frankie, aka Frank the Tank, adjusted to the chaotic house. Sleeping (and snoring) from his new bed, you'd never know he had different owners just 24 hours earlier. He makes all kinds of great pug noises -- best described as a cross between a pig and someone with sleep apnea -- and he's the perfect combo of calm and entertaining. I'm sure I'll get to know him and the house much better this summer. And the lure of the built-in pool and laundry room is bound to make the hour-and-a-half drive much more bearable.

Looking for THE dress

2008-03-11T22:05:00.003-04:00

You know, that one she's going to wear down the aisle. Abbey and I started the search at David's Bridal on Sunday and had some pretty good luck. After pulling, zipping, fastening, and buttoning on an afternoon's worth of dresses, we decided on four that look equally amazing yet somehow completely different. It's going to be an extremely difficult final decision. I also got to do some modeling of my own for the bridesmaid apparel, and although the floor model in the right color was a size 26, this is the frontrunner at the moment. Don't worry, it actually looks nothing like a potato sack in the proper size.

Breathing again

2008-03-05T20:34:00.002-05:00

Literally. I don't think I've ever been so sick. It started almost two weeks ago with that unmistakable throat tingle that means you're bound to wake up the next morning with a headache and a runny nose. I did. But thankfully, it was a Friday AND a snow day at that, so I did almost nothing but stay in bed. Unfortunately, I only got worse throughout the weekend, and by Monday, I was in the doctor's office with a ridiculously swollen throat, barely able to talk, eat or breathe. Turns out I have both tonsillitis and mono. After two doses of antibiotics, steroids, a trip to the hospital and a three-day visit from nurse mom (who was so worried she flew in from Florida), I'm so happy to finally be feeling better.

More randoms

2008-02-06T20:12:00.000-05:00

Sorry, I'm not really thinking in complete strings lately.

Class: Spring semester started last week and I'm already sick of school. In a way, I like the busyness it brings. I don't do well with too much idle time. My statistics class is very small -- just nine students, and only about six who show up on a regular basis. Policy analysis is a little larger, but somehow my name was one of the five he remembered from our round-the-circle introduction session. As a result, I've been called on no less than 10 times. That's probably the only reason I've been able to stay awake.

Obama: I love him and I really want him to win the Democratic nod. I was so excited to vote and watch the results on "Super Tuesday," and then disappointed this morning to find out that yesterday's mass of primaries did nothing in terms of declaring a frontrunner. This is going to be a really exciting race.

Giants: They won the Superbowl! (Of course, you already know this, but I don't care). It was really fun to actually have a team to root for in the big game. I watched with Tiffany -- an avid Pats fan, who's still sore about the loss -- and we vegged out on lots of junky but tasty food.

Randoms

2008-01-23T21:05:00.000-05:00

We had our first "real" win in volleyball tonight. Our only other points of the season came when the other team had to forfeit because of a lack of players. This one was the real deal, 25-8. Granted, we lost the other five games. But we were all thrilled anyway. More than a couple squeals came from our side of the court when that last ball dropped.

For Christmas, Abbey's mom made me what is now my favorite blanket. When I was in Michigan, she'd casually asked what color my bedspread is (although I don't know how casually you can actually ask that). I thought it was a little strange but didn't think much of it until Abbey had a roll of a present waiting for me in her apartment last month. Made in the famous Steinhauser "silky" style (named for the smooth satin that lines the edges), the blanket has become my favorite curl-up-and-watch-a-movie buddy.

Two brand-new washers and dryers were put into my apartment complex's basement. Seeming like a major improvement over the old leaky machine, I took a load of clothes down there a couple weeks ago. However, after covering my clothes in detergent, I learned that only one of the washers actually works. And it's the one I didn't give $2 in quarters to.

Atlantic City

2008-01-20T17:03:00.000-05:00

My trip to AC started out promising, with a win just a half hour into the two-and-a-half-hour bus ride down the shore. Unfortunately, that was the only thing I won on Saturday. And that thing was a mug printed with the Taleo logo, the HR company used by Adam's company.

Abbey, Adam, Sarah, Matt, Walt and I took part in the BD day trip to Atlantic City, and the morning raffle kept us entertained for most of the ride there. After giving up $5 for what was described as a "cash prize" raffle, Abbey, Sarah and I couldn't stop laughing when the old man sitting ahead of us (one of the many on the bus) snagged the first prize -- a package of Ace Bandage heating pads. I guess it's only fitting for a trip sponsored by BD -- the company that manufactures and sells medical supplies like Ace gear. By the time my ticket was pulled, the ante was raised to mug status. Many drawings later, Abbey got really lucky with a $25 cash prize.

AC isn't Vegas, but it's still pretty cool. Lined along a boardwalk on the shore, I'm sure it's prettier in the summertime (although I've heard also much dirtier in terms of actual garbage and roaming clientele). We gambled for a couple hours and then got lunch at an Irish pub named, take a guess..."Irish Pub," which was Walt's recommendation. We were a bit skeptical on our walk there, but the food was good and drinks were cheap. So cheap, we stuck around for a while, figuring that we'd spend less getting drunk than sitting in front of a slot machine.

2007 Book List

2008-01-07T21:02:00.000-05:00

So, again, as in the year before, I didn't quite achieve my goal of reading 50 books in 2007. And since it doesn't seem likely I'll ever read that much (unless I'm fired, I fail out of class, and I ignore calls from all friends and family), I'm not going to give it another go in 2008. But don't worry. I promise I'm going to continue to read -- a lot. Just not up to the almost-a-book-a-week pace I tried to set in the optimistic and early portion of the New Year.

Below is last year's reading list. My favorite by far is "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini. If you haven't read it (and Hosseini's first novel, "The Kite Runner") you must. Also worth noting is "Something Borrowed," which I didn't expect to be much more than entertaining chick lit. But it struck me in some way. Maybe because the characters are so much like me and Abbey - two childhood friends who grow up in the Midwest, go to school together, and move out to the East Coast. It's a little scary. However, since I'm not carrying out a secret affair with Abbey's fiance, the similarities end there. (Or so you think...) Anyway, here's the whole list:

1). A Wedding in December, Anita Shreve
2). Dreams of My Father, Barack Obama
3). The Pleasure of My Company, Steve Martin
4). The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters, Elisabeth Robinson
5). Darkness Visible, William Styron
6). The Memory-Keeper's Daughter, Kim Edwards
7). Autobiography of a Fat Bride, Laurie Notaro
8). Rant, Chuck Palahniuk
9). The Road, Cormac McCarthy
10). Something Borrowed, Emily Giffin
11). Less Than Zero, Bret Easton Ellis
12). Diary, Chuck Palahniuk
13). A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini
14). Haunted, Chuck Palahniuk
15). Bright Lights, Big City, Jay McInerney
16). Girlfriend in a Coma, Douglas Coupland
17). Hey Nostradamus!, Douglas Coupland
18). The Lion's Game, Nelson DeMile
19). Something Blue, Emily Giffin
20). JPod, Douglas Coupland
21). Water for Elephants, Sara Guen

NYE in Times Square

2008-01-02T22:12:00.000-05:00

My brother and I knew what we were in for beforehand. I heard the horror stories from friends. I read about the cold and the lack of bathrooms online. And I got the classic "Are you crazy?" look from almost every Long Islander I talked to. But still, spending New Year's Eve in Times Square is just one of those things you have to do at least once in your life. So we did. And although you won't see me headed back for seconds, I don't regret any part of that night.

Our day started early, a little after 10 a.m., when we caught a train into the city with my friend, Sean (the only other person I could convince to tag along). Since you're not really allowed to leave your spot once you're there (not even for bathroom breaks or food runs), we had a plan: eat a big lunch but drink as little as possible. So, of course, we filled up at Burritoville and took full advantage of the bathroom there before heading back out into the cold. We got to Times Square around 1 p.m. and stood on the sidewalk in what seemed to be a really good spot. Too good, apparently, because we were moved back by police twice before finally being "penned" in really close to one of the performance stages. Can't complain, though. We still had a nice view of the ball, which, by the way, is really little, and celebrities to watch. We were there so early that we heard most of the performances twice: once for a practice run through, and the second for TV. Side note: Most of the performers on our stage, which included way too many American Idolists, completely faked the whole thing. The "real" bands - Velvet Revolver, Kid Rock, and the Bravery - played from a stage high up on the other end of Times Square.

After games of Eye Spy and 20 Questions got old, boredom struck pretty hard. The hour between 7 and 8 was neverending. Surprisingly, there were no bathroom emergencies (although Sean had a backup plan that involved a series of ziplocks and grocery bags). And thanks to the body heat generated by the 1 million plus attendees, we didn't get cold. Our biggest complaint was the pure pain of standing for 11 hours straight. That last minute was worth it, though, as a sea of red hats and orange balloons waited, counted, screamed and sang in unison. That's definitely an image I'll hold for the rest of my life.

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-25T08:42:00.000-05:00

Christmas in Florida is different, but good. I miss some of my family's traditional holiday events: my dad's annual store party, Christmas Eve at our house, even freezing while opening gifts in the drafty family room. But there's something to be said about the Floridian style of celebrating that my parents have adopted. It's relaxing, in the sit-by-the-pool-and-crack-a-beer way. Plus, it's warm. Of course, we've carried on some of our traditions. Mom and I made a big Italian dinner last night and pizzelles a couple days before that. And as always, our stockings were stuffed by Santa when I woke up this morning. But we've also added a couple new twists: a post-dinner bike ride down to the beach last night and sun tanning by the pool. This is a pretty nice change.

Sarge

2007-12-23T18:09:00.000-05:00

After Goldie, our last dog, died years ago, it didn't look like my parents would ever get a replacement. So Jesse and I were thrilled when my mom mentioned that she wanted a dog for her Christmas present this year. We went to the St. Petersburg SPCA on Friday and came home with Sarge - a 30-pound, 9-month-old pit bull terrier. We had planned to name our future dog Mubu, but because Sarge was my grandpa's knick name, and because Sarge really looked like a Sarge, we kept it. Outside of a bit of chewing, he's really well behaved and everyone's having a great time getting to know him.

Notes from Iraq

2007-12-10T20:29:00.001-05:00

I met almost all of my college friends at The State News. Therefore, it was only a matter of time before one of them ended up covering Iraq from Iraq. Check out Jamie's blog about an experience that I'm sure is going to be exhilarating, scary, and eye-opening all at the same time.

Wicked!

2007-12-09T20:40:00.000-05:00

As a kid, I saw Phantom of the Opera no less than seven times with my family, in addition to Les Miserables, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, RENT, Showboat, Ragtime, Miss Saigon, and many others I can't remember. So you'd think I would have seen lots of shows on Broadway in the year and a half I've lived out here. Nope. Until last Wednesday, I hadn't made it to any. For my Christmas gift, Abbey bought us dinner and tickets to Wicked, which was so, so good. She saw it once before, but I'm not surprised that she wanted an encore. The music, the set, and the story (providing a new perspective on one of my childhood favorites) were all amazing. Thanks, Abz!

Thanksgiving

2007-11-28T22:26:00.000-05:00

Even though I didn't get to see my parents or brother for Thanksgiving, it was great to see the rest of my family and friends in Michigan. It was strange, however, to be "home" without an actual home. Abbey's mom drove me past our old house, and even though it's only been in a new set of hands for a less than six months, it looks different. Somehow colder and empty, with an unfamiliar dog in the back yard. I don't think I'll ever get used to that. Anyway, I made myself home at three different places during the long weekend: Aunt Arlene's house for Thanksgiving Day, Lindsay and Trep's apartment on Friday and Saturday and Abbey's parent's house on Sunday.

The big dinner itself was great, as expected. Auntie R made TONS of food, including calzones in addition to the normal turkey day fare. In addition to my aunt and uncle, I spent some time with almost all of my cousins and their kids, who are growing so incredibly fast. (I know, I sound like an old woman who should be pinching their cheeks and exclaiming how tall they've gotten. But really, the last time I saw a few of them, walking and talking wasn't an option).

The next two days were spent shopping, catching up with high school and college friends, watching Abbey's "little" sister catapult toward complete drunkenness for the first time, and eating some of my favorite Detroit foods (including dinner in Greektown and second, post-bar dinner at National Coney Island). Lindsay, Trep, and I made a trip to the Detroit Institute of Arts, which recently reopened its doors after an extensive renovation.

On Sunday, I ate an early dinner with Aunt Melo, Uncle Tom and Grandma and then watched DVR'd episodes of Grey's and The Office with Abbey's mom, who dropped me off at the airport for a very long day of travel and delays the next day. The one upside of my almost four-hour delay: I saw Dustin Diamond on the terminal tram in Atlanta. Although I'm kicking myself for being too shy to ask for a picture.

Next up, Christmas in Florida.

The ring's NYC premiere

2007-11-18T19:37:00.000-05:00

Sarah, Fink, Mike and I met Abbey and Adam in the city on Saturday to watch the last football game of the year and celebrate their less-than-day-old engagement. After watching MSU beat Penn State (yay!), we walked over to Yogi's for cheap beer and not-so-cheap shots. Some photos:

The ring!

Go State! Believe it or not, Abbey was a little bit quieter than usual, still shocked from the night before.

Posing with the Yogi's bear.

The happy couple waiting outside of Blondies.

She's engaged!!

2007-11-17T09:56:00.000-05:00

Abbey and I don't keep much, if anything, from each other. We usually talk AT LEAST once a day, in addition to daily gchat and email. At any point in the day, I have an idea of what she's doing (whether it's working at her desk, reading in bed, or going to the bathroom...true story) and vice versa. So keeping something this huge from her - the fact that after almost five years with Adam, he really was going to pop the question - was so, so difficult.

Adam started plotting a few months ago, asking me for some advice on the ring and the proposal itself, which, from what I hear, turned out to be perfect. To ensure that Abbey wouldn't book a babysitting gig for the special night, I asked her a while ago to come out to Long Island for a friend's party. Then, last Tuesday, Adam told her that his boss had reservations at the Rainbow Room Grill for Friday night that he couldn't keep, and wanted them to take his place. Abbey cancelled our "fake" plans for the weekend, but not without mentioning her suspicion about the real intention of the fancy dinner. Adam and I panicked a bit, thinking that she'd figured the whole thing out, but through a variety of tactics, she was back to doubting that she'd have a ring to show off at Thanksgiving. So on top of the Rockefeller Center, with a view of the Empire State Building and the city below, Abbey was shocked when a desert with the chocolate-drizzled words "Abbey, will you marry me?" was placed on her table. Of course, she said "yes."

I'm so happy for them that I don't really know what to say. My best friend, and really, the sister I never had, is getting married - getting married to a wonderful guy. I've always loved Adam. Kind, smart, fun, and so very entertaining, I know he's going to make her happy for the rest of her life. I think I'm almost as, if not equally, excited for this wedding as they are.

Congrats you two!

Random happenings

2007-11-16T20:33:00.000-05:00

Our volleyball team hasn't won a single game. I believe we're something like 0-18 now. It's getting a little frustrating. OK, a lot frustrating. I'm not asking for much: just one win. Sure, there are some perks to being losers. For one, we never have to put the net away. The rulebook reserves that task for the winning team. And there are no expectations. We never have to worry about being too cocky and losing to the underdogs. The season goes through February, so the way I see it, we're bound to win at least once, if only by sheer chance.

I only have about a month left of classes. This is kind of scary as I still have two papers and two tests to complete, neither of which I've started or studied for.

A couple weeks ago, my American democracy professor told a female student in my class "You don't really think that women have the same mental capacity as men, do you?" As you can imagine, about half of the class went crazy. Um, apparently the decline of ex-Harvard President Lawrence Summers has escaped his mind?

We want to start podcasting at the lab and I've been given the responsibility of researching and editing the pieces. I have no idea what I'm doing yet, but I'm kind of excited about it.

I can't believe Thanksgiving is almost here. And I can't wait to see everyone in Michigan.

ILMBFFAMS

2007-11-12T15:46:00.000-05:00

I spent the weekend with Abbey while she housesat for a family in north Jersey. In 8th-grade slumber party style, we watched lots of classy movies (Transformers, John Tucker Must Die, Elf, and Closer), ordered Chinese food, and played Guitar Hero III (actually, she played and I watched, because I'm pretty much a failure at that game). In non-8th-grade style, because we were good kids back then, we ate at a Mexican and Irish cocina and pub called Jose O'Reilly's and washed down our dinner with no less than five glasses of sangria and two beers. JOR, as we now call it, is one of the only places I can think of where you can order shepard's pie AND quesadillas. It's also about a block away from the house Abbey was watching. Therefore, we didn't put up much of a fight when the waitress persuaded us to order a pitcher of sangria, or when the owner bought us another glass each and ushered us to the bar. It was about at this point that John Tucker Must Die began to sound like a good movie to watch.

We also bought matching PJs at the mall, which we had to wear at the same time so Justin could take our picture in the Palisades scenic overlook. Yeah, we're dorks like that.

Happy Halloween!

2007-10-31T19:28:00.000-04:00

In what is becoming an annual tradition (or at least a pick-up from where my parents left off) I had a pumpkin-carving/Halloween party at my apartment on Saturday. Just a few people showed up to the event last year, but attendance this year was considerably larger. Although, we've got to do a better job of actually carving our pumpkins. Mine and Abbey's remained untouched on my balcony, most likely because playing with sharp knives doesn't seem like such a good idea after a few drinks. This was probably a good move on our part. The night was great, though, and so were the costumes. Here are some pictures:

The Last Domino...

2007-10-27T09:06:00.000-04:00

aka John Orr, aka, Amy's new boyfriend, has been staying with me this week. John is on a two-week tour as a one-man band and is here for three NY shows. The strange part is that I've never met him before this trip, although through phone calls and conversations with Amy, I was pretty sure he was a good guy. And I was right. Abbey, Mason and I went to his Manhattan show on Wednesday night and were really impressed.

He leaves Sunday morning for North Carolina, followed by Tennessee and then back home to Indy. Getting to know him without Amy around seemed a bit unorthodox at first, but it's been kind of nice as well.

Lucky October 16

2007-10-18T15:15:00.000-04:00

I feel old. Stephen – my longtime neighbor, little brother of one of my best friends, Lindsay, and pretty much my honorary second brother while growing up – is engaged. I always get these shocks of reality as my brother’s friends pass certain landmarks. These “little” kids driving, graduating from high school, showing up in the same bars as me, getting their degrees, and now, marriage? Even though they haven’t been “little” in years, it’s still strange to think of them as actual adults. Maybe it’s because I still struggle with thinking of myself as an adult. Or maybe it’s because I feel like they’re catching up to my generation. Or is it just that we’re slowing down?

Anyway, back to Stephen, who proposed to his girlfriend Janelle on Tuesday, which, coincidentally, is the same day Lindsay got engaged two years ago. It’s the birthday of Lindsay’s husband, Chris (aka Trep). I’m told that the ring is also from Lindsay’s jeweler. Now, if the wedding date is set for December 22, I’ll have to question this coincidence thing. But at least I know that whether they’re catching up or trailing close behind, they’re following some good steps. Congrats, Stephen!

Best. Weekend. Ever.

2007-10-17T11:21:00.000-04:00

And if it wasn't the absolute best, it was pretty close. Abbey, Amy and I took Friday off of work and all flew into Tampa from our new homes on Thursday night for a weekend at my parent's house in Gulfport. Our itinerary was pretty complex: beaching, eating, shopping, and drinking, and we accomplished it all. Seriously, though, it was one of the most equally relaxing and exciting weekends I've ever had. We never rushed anywhere or stressed about anything. My mom made us some great food. My brother took two days off to drive us around. And I got to hang out with the people who are probably the five most important ones in my life. Some highlights:

The beaches: We went to Sunset Beach and St. Pete Beach, both within 15-20 minutes of my parent's house. The weather was gorgeous all weekend and we all were a little red by the end of the trip. The only downside to our beach-going was a HUGE school of fish that had to be crossed before entering deeper waters. We all did it, but not without some screaming. And my fear of the ocean wouldn't let me stay out too long before thinking something was circling around my feet.

NEPB at OG: If you're not hip to the language of Abbey, this stands for the never-ending pasta bowl at Olive Garden, one of our favorite restaurants, or rather challenges, in the fall. Amy told Abbey earlier in the day that she could eat more bowls than her. This, of course, meant war. So the two trash talked for the rest of the day and throughout dinner as they struggled to stuff just one more fork of pasta into their mouths. Their arguing left room for a silent challenger to take the lead. That's right, my mom beat them both, finishing two whole bowls and making us all question where on her little body she put it all.

POM: Or Puddle of Mudd. As we left a bar in St. Pete on Saturday night, we walked by two tour buses. Abbey and I continued to walk by, but somehow, Amy struck up a conversation with a girl poking her head outside the bus window. Before we knew it, Amy was on the bus peeing. Then I was on the bus peeing. We chatted a bit with the band's bassist and who I assume were a bunch of roadies. Amy told him the lead singer was a Nirvana wannabe and we were back on our way. We didn't really realize how cool of a situation we were in until the next morning, even though I'm hardly a fan.

Swimming while drunk: Don't do it. At least don't jump into the deep end when you can't even walk straight. Abbey and Amy learned this the hard way.

I think this will have to become an annual tradition.

Volley of the Dolls

2007-10-11T11:27:00.000-04:00

People assume that because I’m tall, I’m good at volleyball. Not true. But I joined a lab team anyway along with a couple friends. Called the Volley of the Dolls, we’re an all-girl team in the lowest of three leagues, which means no overhand serves and no hard spikes, both fine by me. I could probably count the number of times I’ve played volleyball in my life on two hands, the most recent games in a similar league at Fermilab. So I was a little hesitant to join this year. We lost all three games in our first match last night, but it wasn’t as bad as I was expected. And I wasn’t as bad as I expected. Maybe by the end of the season I’ll be halfway decent.

On a side note, Abbey, Amy and I are flying to Florida tonight for the weekend. For those of you who don’t know, we were all roommates senior year. Our apartment number was 11F. So is it a coincidence that 11F is also Amy’s seat on the plane? I think this weekend was meant to be.

Abbey's birthday week

2007-10-10T10:14:00.000-04:00

My BFF, Abbey, turned 24 yesterday, but our celebration actually began on Sunday. Abbey, her mom, Adam, and his parents met in NJ for the weekend and they all drove out to Long Island for some wine tasting. I don't think I've talked in much detail about the wineries out here. More than 30 vineyards and wineries dot the forks of the island. Some people say the wine quality isn't the best, and I agree that some are pretty terrible, but there are quite a few that I really like. Part of the fun is being able to judge one from the other. And when it's nice outside, it's refreshing to take a drive out east, past the land of strip malls and into farm country. Unfortunately, our drive on Sunday wasn't so fun. Being in the thick of Halloween season, everyone and their mom decided to venture out to the north fork for fall festivals, pumpkin picking, corn mazes, apple picking and shopping at the hundreds of farm stands. This turned the usually quick 45-minute drive into a much longer excursion. Our moods were quickly restored, though, once we ate some lunch and started the first of numerous tastings. We stopped first at Martha Clara (which in my opinion, doesn't produce the best wine, but has fun entertainment like hairy cows and llama). We spent the rest of the day at Roanoke, which is one of my favorites. I'm a wine club member there, meaning I get free tastings and discounts in exchange for buying three pre-selected bottles each quarter. The people there are incredibly friendly and can tell you anything you want to know, and more, about the wine they make. And it doesn't have the commercial feeling that many other wineries do. Abbey and I drank some of her favorite Roanoke wine, a rose, and Adam's parents must have enjoyed some of the reds because they left with a box full of bottles.

Yesterday, for Abbey's actual double dozen celebration, I met her, Adam, Sarah, Matt, Mason, Keith, and Walt at Carmine's in the city for a HUGE dinner. After putting back platters of penne vodka, salad, meatballs, and chicken (I mostly worked on the pasta), we ordered the "Titanic," a monstrosity of chocolate cake, ice cream, strawberries, bananas, whipped cream and nuts. Sooo good.

But the party's still not over. Tomorrow night, I'll meet Abbey and Amy in Florida to visit my parents and celebrate a little (or a lot) more.

ATM woes

2007-10-09T14:49:00.000-04:00

So the ATM machine in the lab’s cafeteria is one of the oldest I’ve seen. Whereas practically all other machines have a reader that you slide your card through, this one actually takes the card from you. I'm used to the newer models, where once you have your money and receipt, you’re done. The Brookhaven relic, however, doesn’t return your card until after you’ve taken your money and answered one more question: “Would you like to make another transaction?” Lots of people just grab their money and walk away, forgetting about their card, and leaving the next customer the ability to drain their checking account. I rescued one of these people's cards today, returning it to one of the cafeteria workers. But in doing so, I also forgot my own in the machine. Now I have to wait until tomorrow to see if it shows up at the branch while I worry that someone is spending my slim, but much-needed life savings.

The Lifers

2007-10-05T19:03:00.000-04:00

Amy and I would have been in stitches had we still worked at The State News when this story was published. At the end of the article, those "eight grown men who never managed to shake the Panchero’s-at-3-a.m. mentality,'" we know them. Actually, we more than know them. As the youngest of the bunch, and therefore the last to graduate, Abbey, Amy, Emily and I woke almost every fall weekend to find them sprawled every which way across our living room. We witnessed rumbles and fights. Late-night Pokey stick feasts and a number of East Lansing signage being pulled from the ground. Yes, the Holden Lifers are some of the best tailgaters I know, and I miss them.

Meet me at Blondies

2007-10-02T19:19:00.000-04:00

Blondies has become the place for college reunions. Last week was Nate and Andy. And this week, Kris was in NYC for the weekend and stopped to cheer for the Spartans between stops at Prada and Armani. It's been great to catch up with everyone lately. And despite MSU's first loss of the season, we still had a great time. Abbey and I began early with lunch at, where else, Burritoville, followed by tailgating in Central Park.

Later, we ate dinner with Justin and his friends, Amir and Gil, at a Spanish restaurant, where we drank sangria that we definitely didn't need. We continued at a couple bars afterward, and following brunch in midtown, we finally headed back to Jersey more than 24 hours after we started and curled up in Abbey's bed for some much-needed sleep.

Give me novocaine

2007-09-26T10:56:00.001-04:00

My dentist is kind of a jokester: humming the “Jaws” theme song as he enters the room and telling stories with the hygienists. But he’s not joking when he says he’s going to fill my cavities without using novocaine. Surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt…much. Maybe because most of my cavities are shallow and small, stuck in little pits that caused my childhood dental experience to be pretty traumatic. But I’ve always been a fan of major pain medication. Gas me up, numb my mouth so much that I can’t properly drink from a straw for hours afterward. I don’t want to feel a thing. So last spring, immediately after Dr. Kahn announced that he’d fill my little cavity sans medication, I think my anxiety was more painful than the actual drilling. The same was true today when he filled two holes. There were moments when I thought it was going to hurt, when that cold, sharp pulse started its sprint to my brain. But then it retreated. And now that I’m sitting safely far away from the dental office, I’m telling myself how it really wasn’t that bad.

4-0

2007-09-23T19:02:00.000-04:00

That's MSU's football record so far this season, which, despite playing teams we were expected to beat, is still pretty impressive. A winning season has been rare the past few years, so maybe we're on the up-and-up? I watched Saturday's game against Notre Dame in the city at Blondie's, where the NY alumni club hosts watch parties for every game. I met up with Abbey, Adam, Sarah and Matt, with intentions to tailgate beforehand in Central Park. The weather forecasts looked great all week -- sunny, warm, and just a 2 percent chance of rain. Well, the clouds with that 2 percent must have centered right over us. As soon as we walked off the subway, the skies opened up, and we ran to the nearest corner store for an arsenal of umbrellas and ponchos. Getting soaked in spite of our rain gear, we decided to go to Blondie's early. The good side: as the first Spartans there, we got great seats (the place gets packed right around game time). The bad: This gave us a little too much time to drink beer, which left a pretty hefty tab at the end of the night. My friend Nate, who I haven't seen in at least two years, joined us later on. And the Spartans won, 31-14.

School days

2007-09-19T19:18:00.001-04:00

I'm in my third week of school now, but thanks to national and religious holidays, I've only had a few classes. I'm taking two classes this semester: One focuses on the critics and defenders of American democracy and the other is based on comparing U.S. policies with other industrialized countries. Both seem fairly interesting, even after working all day.

Stony Brook is a pretty school. It's smaller than I'm used to (about 22,000 students compared to MSU's 45,000), but a lot of people at my orientation were overwhelmed with its size. Being a fairly new university, the campus has a modern look to it, resembling something like Western Michigan University or Grand Valley. But for some reason, despite receiving some really high marks in national ratings lately, people don't seem overly excited to be there. As a girl in one of my classes put it: "It's cool to hate Stony Brook." I'm not sure why. Maybe because it's a commuter school. Maybe because the sports teams aren't very popular. Or maybe because no one really knows what a Seawolf (the mascot) is. I like it, though I'll always be an MSU girl at heart. My first few weeks have been nothing like my first days at Michigan State, where the fight song and school spirit were basically implanted in your brain. Although, I suppose I'm in a different playing field than the freshmen I drive past on my way to class. This is grad school. Part time. At night. There isn't much time for learning to love a new university.

Hello again

2007-09-18T10:59:00.000-04:00

It seems like every couple of months I emit a signal to people from the past, the once-, almost-, and never-weres. It must be some kind of subliminal message that says "Remember Kendra? You should text/email/myspace message her." Maybe I pop up in a dream here or there. Or maybe it's just pheromones. Whatever it is, it usually happens in two-day segments. Today is day two, and it's pretty weird.

Umm, I'm bleeding?

2007-09-13T20:59:00.000-04:00

Since last December, I've donated blood every time the drive people come to the lab. Today was my third time. I usually get a little woozy when they pull out the needle, but today was bad. Like spots-over-the-eyes-and-the-room-is-humming bad. My nurse quickly noticed, and in one swift movement, he reclined my chair, elevated my feet and called for a cold compress. The one thing he forgot: the hole in my arm, where blood began to seep from in big drops. Is it actually considered "bleeding" if you're already giving blood? I'm not sure, but it freaked me out, and after staring at the growing drops for a couple seconds, I managed to say "Ummm, I'm bleeding?" Yes, like a question. Not sure why, that's just the way it came out in my hazy state. The nurse got the point, though. He bandaged me up, although left some of the dried blood in the crook of my arm, which I quickly cleaned up after a full recovery thanks to mini doughnuts and apple juice. Yuck. How does this bug me when I can stare at the blood-filled tubes or donation bag without any sort of reaction?

Carl and Marc

2007-09-11T19:54:00.000-04:00

Chuck E. Cheese was a childhood favorite of mine. And lucky for me and Jesse, my dad loved the place, too. My mom would sit on the sidelines, guarding our pizza as the three of us ran around with our pockets full of tokens, playing the games we thought might give out the most Chuck E. tickets. To a kid, those tickets were like gold. And because it probably took an average kid about $20 to accumulate 100 of them (for what might get you a small carnival-style stuffed animal), they were pretty valuable to parents, too. Candy, T-shirts, Chinese finger traps, we came home with all of that. But you know one thing that definitely wasn't a prize option? Grillz. That's right, grillz, those bling-blingin' jewels for your teeth. As we wandered around the NYC Dave & Busters ticket redemption area, however, there they were, shining from inside their glass display cases. From then on, there was no question. We needed them. Well, we needed them for Carl and Marc, our visitors for the weekend. The outcome: see below.

All of these...

For these...
Nelly would be proud. So yes, D&B was part of our NY/NJ visit with Carl and Marc. Not something I'd normally recommend in the middle of the NYC entertainment mecca, but it turned out to be one of the weekend highlights. Other adventures: a visit to Canal Street, where Abbey and I bought "Tiffany" necklaces, Carl and Marc bought matches designer shades and Adam just stood on the sidewalk, looking like an undercover cop. Of course, we ate at Burritoville...a hit, again. And later, we headed back to Hoboken for dinner and drinks. (Sidenote: Michigan lost again!)

On Sunday, after finally getting up, we drove back out east, eating at another of my favorites, Hummus World. Next, we made a quick, but efficient, visit to the wineries. Efficient, because we still managed to do numerous tastings and "sip" two bottles of wine.

After a quick stop at Stony Brook and breakfast, I dropped the boys back at LaGuardia on Monday. I expect to see some creative Halloween costumes that incorporate their new metal gear.

Boston

2007-09-06T20:33:00.000-04:00

I’ve marked two more states off my places-to-visit map: Connecticut and Massachusetts. The first (CT) doesn’t really count because, exempting McDonald’s, we didn’t stop there on our Labor Day trip to Boston. But just like I count Kentucky, Georgia, and other drive-though states passed on numerous family trips to Florida, Connecticut will remain shaded in on my mental map. I took the Port Jeff ferry to Bridgeport after work on Friday, where Abbey and Adam picked me up on their way to Bean Town. The ferry ride was so much better than sitting in what I’m sure was bumper-to-bumper traffic on the GWB, and probably cheaper once you add together the tolls and gas money. Surprisingly, traffic for the rest of the trip up the coast wasn’t too bad. A few hours later, we knew we’d reached Boston when a fuel truck decorated with huge green shamrock images passed us on the street.

We stayed with Abbey’s cousin, Andrea, for the weekend in her apartment in Brookline – just a short T-ride away from the city. On Saturday, we took a tour of the Sam Adam’s R&D facility, which included free beer and some cool tidbits from our guide. We had dinner that night with Andrea’s friends in the north end – Boston’s Italian section of town that’s lined with restaurants, pastry shops, and lots of hungry people. The highlight of the day, however, happened in Michigan. U-M lost 34-32 to Appalachian State in what is being called “the biggest upset in college football history.” Adam was battling a cold for most of the weekend, but watching the continuous replays of the Wolverines’ failure (and knowing that MSU won its first game) was enough to help him rally for the night. Unfortunately, he was shot for the rest of the weekend. You know Adam’s sick when he forgoes the bar for the couch.

On Sunday, we drove north to a beach in Gloucester, which is exactly how I’d pictured New England: quaint (and not so quaint) houses sitting on rocky jutts in the ocean. I fried my back and legs. And although my skin has finally stopped hurting, it’s beginning to peel in ugly shreds.

On Monday, we ate lunch at an outdoor café on Newbury Street, followed by desert at one of Abbey’s favorites, JP Licks. Now I have the itch to explore more of the east coast.

A waterfront view

2007-08-28T20:41:00.000-04:00

Here are a couple photos from the Circle Line tour:

Lady Liberty

Brooklyn Bridge

West side

The Columbia "C" painted by the school's rowing team

And the GWB. Who would have thought something so pretty could cause so much misery?

Mom and Dad!

2007-08-28T20:33:00.000-04:00

My weekend with my parents didn’t start off so great. In fact, it was pretty awful. It started on their end, in Florida, when the real estate agent called three hours before the closing on the Michigan house telling them that the event was going to be delayed two weeks (i.e. two more weeks before they have enough money to pay for the moving costs they already charged to their cards). Then, their flight to Long Island was delayed. Meanwhile, plans for our upcoming worry-free weekend swirled through my head. I did a little last-minute cleaning and walked out to my parking lot a bit early so I could pick up a pizza on the way to the airport. One problem: for the first time in its life, my car decided not to start. Perfect timing. 11 p.m. With my parents touching down within a half hour. My knowledge of cars is pretty much inexistent. So car troubles probably rank in my top five reasons for crying, which is exactly what I did after turning the key in the ignition at least another six times. Well, I think I held my composure during my first few phone calls, the first being Abbey…don’t ask me why. After no pickup from my neighbor, and a blubbery voicemail to my dad, Pete came to the rescue. Except we really couldn’t figure out what was wrong, even with some over-the-phone coaching from my car-friendly brother. Pete ended up picking up my parents, for which I owe him lunch for at least the next week. That night, stranded in my apartment with my parents, our weekend plans seemed ruined. However, by 11 a.m. the next morning, I was $700 poorer, Firestone was $700 richer and my car was awake again. And although our weekend fun was delayed, our bad luck was pretty much over.

We spent the rest of the day giving my car a workout as we drove out to Greenport for lunch and then visited a series of wineries on the way back. For dinner, we ate the pizza we never got the night before.

We spent Sunday in the city. Our train in and out was delayed, but we still managed to squeeze in a three-hour boat tour that circled the island, a walk through Central Park, sightseeing down Fifth Avenue, and eating at two of my favorites: Burritoville and Carmines.

I took Monday off of work and we drove out to Westhampton for some beach time. It really is pretty out there, and much more comfortable than the rocky beaches on the north shore. But it’s kind of a long drive. We rushed back to Port Jeff for some lunch and Italian ice and then it was already time to drop them back at the airport.

Oh, and dad gave my car the royal treatment on Monday morning, including a full wash, vacuuming and interior shinning. Maybe that will keep it happy for a while.

Kendra looks like...

2007-08-23T20:10:00.000-04:00

Have you ever done this? Type your first name followed by the words "looks like" into Google and laugh at what comes up. Here are my favorite five. I think some are greatly influenced by one of Hugh Hefner's girlfriends, Kendra, on E!'s "The Girls Next Door."

1. Kendra looks like the womanly companion of some evil genius bent on world domination.
2. Kendra looks like the photographs of Native Americans Harry had seen in his politically correct sociology textbooks in Hogwarts or something.
3. Kendra looks like FLAVOR FLAV!
4. Kendra looks like she means business, firmly clutching her 9mm pistol as she advances carefully toward a possibly occupied zone.
5. Kendra looks like a baby deer.

Wineries and BC

2007-08-21T10:28:00.000-04:00

Saturday was neverending. I woke up early and made myself drive to the laundromat. Not that there's anything wrong with this particular place. It's just that laundromats in general are pretty miserable. I shove everything into my one, somewhat broken hamper and waddle with it down the stairs and out to the car, fumbling with my keys and trying not to forget something on the long list of laundry essentials: detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, book, iPod, and most importantly, quarters, or at least singles to use in the change machine. It's gotten to where I'm excited when my lunch costs anything less than 25 after the decimal place...three more quarters for next week's laundry! Once I get there and lug everything into the building, the game involves finding two side-by-side working machines and doing everything possible to avoid letting a runaway sock or pair of underwear drop to the dirty floor, especially during the washer-to-dryer transition, when the sopping wet item picks up dust like a sponge and gets thrown right back into the dirty pile. Needless to say, my dream apartment includes an in-unit washer and dryer.
With Saturday's laundry mission complete, and the idea of two more laundry-free weeks surfacing in my head, I went to the wineries with my friends Matt, Shannon and Nicole, and a few of their friends. It was a beautiful day for a drive out east. The summertime humidy suddenly dissapeared in the last week and Saturday felt more like an early fall day -- upper 70s, sunny and a cool breeze. We spent about five hours at four wineries, tasting flights, enjoying the sun, and petting the highland cows (always one of my favorites).

We headed back to Port Jeff a little after 7 and I quickly changed, ate some string cheese and rushed to the station for a train into the city. After grabbing a taxi at Penn Station -- driven by a cabbie who first dropped me off on the complete wrong side of town -- I made it to Andy's apartment, where BC was staying for the weekend. We headed out around 11 to a local bar that played nothing but 80s and 90s music videos on flat-screen TVs spead across the walls. Later, with some post-bar ziti pizza in my stomach, I caught the 4:45 train back home. When I woke up in Ronkonoma, it was light out and I couldn't drive my car quickly enough back home to my bed.

Double Dozen

2007-08-09T20:38:00.000-04:00

My last couple birthdays have been pretty tough to handle. On Wednesday, I was surrounded by people all day, but I still felt alone. One of my bosses made a cake, my coworker made me dinner, and numerous local friends bought me drinks downtown, but with my nearest family member hundreds of miles away, I still couldn't help but feel sad, and even more so after a couple drinks. (There's a reason they're called depressants). I know, it's really just another day. But it's the one day each year that requires you to look back on your life and plan for what's ahead. And how can you really do that when half of the people you're celebrating with didn't even know you last summer. They weren't around when there were just 14 candles on your cake, or when you weren't even old enough to blow out the candles without some help from Grandpa or dad. It's times like these that I really miss my family, and not just my parents, but all of my family members. Those familiar faces have been around every year until recently and, exempting my honorary East Coast sister Abbey, there are few who can take their place.

More MI visitors

2007-07-30T21:13:00.000-04:00

Skippy and the twins drove into Jersey for the weekend. And Abbey, Adam, and I met them at Sarah and Matt's house in Denville, which we all quickly made our home away from home. Minus a two-hour hike in the water gap (exhilerating despite the sticky heat), it was a fun, but relatively low-key weekend filled with pizza, ice cream, and classic family games gone bad. In what is becoming Cantwell tradition, we finished the weekend with a dinner meant to feed at least a crew of 20. Somehow, the eight of us still did a decent job.

Nuns and Cyclones

2007-07-25T20:42:00.001-04:00

Finally, good baseball weather. The Franciscan Sisters of the Poor (Sarah's company) was hosting a fundraiser at the Brooklyn Cyclones game on Saturday, so Abbey, Adam, Mike and I bought tickets. Realization #1: It takes forever to get to Coney Island from midtown. #2: Minor league baseball is so much more entertaining than the pros, at least in terms of mascots and cheesy games between innings. #3: Coney Island is not an actual island. I might be dumb, but I didn't know this. #4: Even minor-league beer costs a lot. #5: People really will wait forever for a Nathan's hot dog. #6: As evident from the airbrushed paintings of Tupac and Biggie on what should be innocent children's rides, Coney Island is more than a little bit scary, especially at night.

AB in LI

2007-07-19T22:38:00.000-04:00

Amy flew into Long Island on Thursday night.

We stayed up late...every night. And by late, I mean the sun-is-rising late.

We drank with the guitarist from Deep Purple. Well, not THE guitarist. Actually, he didn't join the group until 1997. And he was kind of pathetic. But we'll take a celebrity sighting when we can get one.

We ate Italian ice every afternoon and pizza too many times to count.

We took glamour shots with Abbey and spent way too much time getting ready for the bar.

We ate the best falafel ever.

We wore our sunglasses at night.

We got sunburned.

We drove to the Jersey shore.

We didn't have enough time together.

Live Earth

2007-07-19T21:57:00.000-04:00

Sorry, this post is a little late...

Two Saturdays ago, Abbey, Adam, Fink, Sarah and I woke up early, filled Adam's car with beer, food and a miniature MSU-helmet-shaped grill, and drove to Giants Stadium. Actually, we arrived at the "blue lot," an office parking lot about a mile away where we handed over our $20 fee and were told that tailgating was not allowed. We all kind of nodded in agreement to the attendant and then drove quietly to the back of the lot, passing groups of other concertgoers huddled together around their closed trunks looking lost and dreading the boozeless four and a half hours awaiting them. We backed into a shady spot and surveyed the scene, waiting for someone else to make the first move, and wondering if those first ones should be us. Soon, neighbors arrived, and with a bunch of red party cups in hand, the first beers were poured, the lawn chairs put out and the Spartan helmet fired up. Others followed. And once the tailgate tension ended, and grills powered up across the parking lot, we made friends with the group next door. Well, actually, Abbey made friends and the rest of us followed along as usual.

The concert (once we were school bused to the stadium) was really great. Numerous celebrities took the stage, from Leonardo DiCaprio to Cameron Diaz. Planes flew overhead with competing messages: "Don't believe Al Gore" and "Al Gore for President." And I've never seen so many acts on one stage -- Kayne West, Alisha Keyes, Fall Out Boy, Ludacris, The Police, Roger Waters, Smashing Pumpkins, John Mayer, Melissa Ethridge, and so many others. My favorite performance was by Dave Matthews Band, which reminded me how much I really want to see them in concert again. But, by far, the audience favorite was Bon Jovi, because although numerous celebs gave shout-outs to the "New York" crowd, the stadium actually stands just across the state border, in Jersey, BJ's hometown.

Home...one of them

2007-06-26T19:15:00.000-04:00

I kept messing up my words every time someone asked where I was going last weekend. Florida, Michigan, it seems like I'm constantly alternating between the two as the definition of "home" becomes more and more complicated. For this trip, my plane flew to the latter. It was just me and mom this time. I helped sort through the house, dividing everything into the good, the bad, and the good-but-not-good-enough-to-drag-hundreds-of-miles-south piles. On Friday, we labeled these leftovers at just a fraction of their original prices, piled them on wooden tables in the driveway and posted signs on the street that might as well have been an invitation for the lowliest of the neighborhood to get in their hoopdees and gather on our front lawn demanding that you give them that $2 set of plates purse for $1. That's right, we had a garage sale. And as much as I don't like shopping at them, I hate running them about ten times more. Seriously, if you can't cough up an extra quarter for that $1 purse, maybe you shouldn't be buying anything in the first place. And if you're driving a Lexus and want two of them for a dollar, I'm going to give you an extra dirty look. But we took what we could get and gave the extras to the next-door neighbors to sell in their own yard sale, including a gold-plated silverware set that their young son quickly claimed "for when he gets married." You know what they say about one person's trash.

That night, after a quick dinner with Lindsay and Trep, Carl, Michelle and I headed to downtown Royal Oak. Only on our way there, we decided to take a quick detour past the Magic Bag just in case the Mega 80s (the best cover band ever) was playing. The band's name spashed across the building's marquee, luck was on our side and we had a great time singing and dancing along to Journey, KISS, Devo, and lots of other goodies.

The next morning, after surviving a few more hours of haggling, we met Abbey's mom and sister for lunch at one of my favorite restaurants, Cedar Gardens. Long Island, at least in my area, seriously lacks Mediterranean food, which is so big in Metro Detroit. Good hummus is hard to come by around here, so I definitely got my fill when I could. That night, we visited another favorite, Trattoria, a local Italian restaurant that has an unbeatable marinara. Not that I'm at all lacking in Italian food in New York, but there's just something about the food there.

On Sunday, we went to a family reunion for my mom's side of the family, the Rielis. Actually, we found out the spelling prior to my great grandparent's move to the states was Riili. Now, that's a lot of 'i's. We also learned the names of the Sicilian towns they grew up in: Cosimo in Aliminusa and Frances in Cerda. I'd love to visit there some day with my mom. Especially since the family still owns a bar and a gelateria side by side. You can't get much better than that.

The Florida house

2007-06-13T11:42:00.001-04:00

So I haven't really talked too much about my parent's new house in detail. The last time I went to visit, they had just signed the paperwork. They've since moved in, and although the majority of their belongings are still sitting in Michigan, it looks really cute.

My mom in the kitchen

The front room

From the kitchen to the back room

The back room

And, my dad's favorite part, the pool

How do you measure a year?

2007-06-04T19:38:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is my one-year anniversary at the lab. I don't really know what to think of that. Is that a long time? Sometimes it feels like it, especially when I think back to my first few days here.

I remember my dad and I setting off for Long Island, him pulling a U-Haul trailer behind his van, me following in my Escort. Not 10 minutes later, I watch the doors of that trailer pop open and my wicker laundry basket full of sheets teeter and totter until it smashes onto I-94. Pulled off on the shoulder, I see my dad running back to salvage what he can in morning traffic. I remember driving quietly. Of course, there was no one I could talk to in the passenger seat, but even if there was, I don't think I would have said much; It's that kind of nervousness where the sounds of the radio float right through your ears and you can drive for miles without remembering a thing you passed.

I-80 in Jersey, exit 62, Abbey's apartment: I remember breathing again as we make the turnoff. It's the one familiar part of the trip. Abbey drives and Mason and Adam follow, increasing our caravan size to three. We cross the George Washington Bridge and I stare at the skyline, a sight that still amazes me. I hope it always will. Second bridge, the Throng's Neck: we stop suddenly just before the entrance. In the review mirror, my dad is waving around the EZpass borrowed from Mason. Like he's trying to squash a fly, he's pounding the rectangular device all around the inside of the windshield and then out the open window. He's panicking, and we're panicking because we can do nothing but sit and watch, and the toll gate remains closed. Finally, a guard walks over and we continue. We try to beat the sunset as we head down 347, but dark clouds rolling in quickly start to kill the light. The closer we get, the more I examine the surroundings, because that Chinese restaurant isn't just a random shop, it's going to be part of my new neighborhood.

As we pull into the apartment complex, it starts to rain. It's humid and hot, but the lights work in my bare, echoing apartment. The landlord has left the keys on the kitchen counter like he said he would. Raining turns to pouring as we start moving the numerous boxes up the stairs and plop them in any available free space. We're finally finished and drenched, and my helpers head back to Jersey before it gets too late. It's Thursday, and they have to work tomorrow. My dad and I get food at a Mexican restaurant down the street, the closest, open place either of us can remember from the ride in. I order a burrito. Too exhausted to put together any sort of furniture, I sleep on my mattress and my dad sleeps on the bed box. I remember these things in snippets, like they are all individual photos. I feel like they should be 4x6s in an album on my shelf, things that happened a long time ago.

But this year has happened so quickly. In ways I still feel like the "new girl" here. So many people I haven't met, so many things I haven't seen. Memories from home are still fresh. Fireworks at Memorial Park, talking with friends at the kitchen table, my brother's music blaring through the house: all of these things that I haven't experienced in years seem like just a few months ago. Yet this is the longest I've spent in one location in a really long time. So I wonder if my time here, or wherever I end up in the future will ever seem just "long" or "short," or if it will forever be the strange mix of in-between.

This is why I love her

2007-05-30T11:32:00.000-04:00

Because we can have fun doing almost nothing. In this case, all it took was a fan and a little inspiration from America's Next Top Model, or maybe more like a strip club.

Memorial Day vaca

2007-05-28T19:24:00.000-04:00

It wasn't technically a vacation, but it felt like it. Me, Abbey, Adam, Sarah and Matt decided to spend the long weekend together. We met up in Hoboken after work on Friday, and then took the train to the city to meet up with our friend, Skippy, from Michigan. We ate dinner at a nice Italian restaurant on the upper west side, grabbed a couple drinks at Blondies and then headed downtown to find Skippy and his friends. After a long work week, none of us were sure we could even make it to midnight without falling asleep. Somehow, though, we all perked up and didn't get back to Abbey and Adam's apartment until 5 a.m. the next morning -- a pretty amazing feat if you ask me.

We drove out east on Saturday and spent most of the day at a beach just down the road from my apartment. We checked out another local beach the next day, with the mission to get Sarah and myself some color. I don't think we were too successful in that respect, but it was still a beautiful weekend to just lay out by the water. We all hit up some bars down port on Sunday night and now I'm recovering on my couch from a little too much sun and vodka.

Elvis is in the buiding

2007-05-23T20:19:00.000-04:00

In the Berkner Hall cafeteria, that is, for this year's NSLS/CFN Users' Meeting banquet. I learned that even the most hard-core scientists can loosen up a bit with an open bar, a big pair of shades and an Elvis impersonator canvassing the room.

I feel rustic

2007-05-21T20:34:00.000-04:00

Actually, I think that's what Abbey said at one point on Sunday afternoon as we were hiking up one of the trails at the Delaware Water Gap. Well, she probably said it after we had already reached the top, because none of us were saying much of anything during the upward climb, unless you call "ugh" and "let's take a break" conversation.

I drove to Abbey and Adam's apartment on Saturday and then we all drove west to Fink and Sarah's house in Denville, a city in Jersey not too far from the Pennsylvania border. We ate a huge meal that night - corn on the cob, potatoes, pasta salad, regular salad, guacamole and chips, and some meat for the carnivores. Then we topped it off with some ice cream, which seemed to spiral us all into pretty serious food comas. We managed a couple rounds of Apples to Apples and glued ourselves to the "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" movie on TV (the original and best ever) before heading to bed at 10:30. Are we really getting that old?

It turns out we needed that good night's sleep for Saturday's hike, a two-and-a-half hour climb up and down one of the Water Gap's hills. We were all huffing and puffing on the way up, but the view at the top was worth it. The climb down was a little treacherous, the path recommended by a group of older ladies who I think were either trying to kill us or steer us away from their group. (It might not have helped that Abbey was doing the "red rum" imitation from "The Shining," index finger and all, as we were walking behind them.) We made it down safely and marveled at a family with a small boy, and another with a dad carrying his baby strapped to his back who seemed to make it up the rocky terrain with no problem. We drove back with the windows down, sweaty and tired, but feeling accomplished. Rustic-like.

Three strikes you're out

2007-05-17T11:44:00.000-04:00

I've had bad luck with baseball games so far this year. My first of the season was a Yankees game during opening week, during which it was freezing cold and actually started snowing before we couldn't stand shivering any longer and went home. The second was a Mets game last night, which was rain delayed for close to three hours. I think I'm due for some good baseball weather soon.

Back to school

2007-05-10T18:49:00.000-04:00

I'm in. I got my acceptance letter today for the public policy Master's program at Stony Brook University. Almost exactly two years ago, as I graduated from MSU, the thought of sitting in another class for even just a minute made me gag. While I considered myself a serious student, that last semester was just one too many. With each consecutive class it was harder to concentrate on the professor's droning voice, harder to pry my heavy eyelids open, and nearly impossible to keep my mind from thinking about what in the world I was going to do next. I started ditching my after-work, late-night cram sessions for the bar. Missing a Cell Bio class (fine, almost all of my Cell Bio classes) was OK if I didn't feel like walking across campus or taking a nap instead. I just wanted to pass, get my degree, and be done with it. Now, somehow, I'm ready to return. I actually miss it. At least I think I do. I've always missed parts of college, really all of the non-class parts: friends, freedom, parties, games, tailgates, and the newsroom where I spent almost my entire collegiate career. But I think I'm also starting to miss the actual academic part, that cheesy stuff that sounds like it belongs on a university's promotional brochure: exchanging ideas, challenging yourself, learning. Like I said, I THINK I miss this. Ask me that after a couple weeks of assignments and tests and I might have a different opinion.

A visit from the Treps

2007-05-09T20:46:00.000-04:00

It's still strange to refer to them as that. But I was happy to play the hostess for Lindsay and Chris' first "personal" trip as a married couple. (I didn't come up with the "personal" term, by the way. Their parents did, who also escorted them to the airport like it was a second honeymoon. Very cute.) We had a really great, and exhausting, weekend. Lindsay was in NYC once before, with me and a bunch of other high school drama students about seven years ago. Trep has never been. So I took Friday off of work and we did the typical tourist loop: Battary Park, Times Square, the M&M and Hersey's store, Central Park, etc, etc. We woke up around 6 a.m. to make an early train and didn't get back to my apartment until after 2 a.m. the next morning. Whew. But I think we did a good job covering the major sights, and some not so major ones, like a really pathetic, but completely amuzing Spiderman impersonator in Times Square. Despite his unimpressive fake webshooter (really just a peice of string he'd have to roll back up after every attack) and creepy friends (Spongebob and Shrek), he still suckered a few people to shell out $10 for a picture with him. He autographed it, of course. We also ate at what is being a regular visit for me while in the city -- Burritoville. The weather was beautiful all day, in fact it was all weekend.

On Saturday, we headed out east. We stopped first at the "feed our animals" farm that Abbey had a ball at a few months ago. It was the perfect entertainment for Lindsay, who I sometimes tease as being a 10-year-old stuck in a 25-year-old's body. Seriously, she loves, loves, loves animals. So watching her feed the crowd of animals, screaming and running and making them follow her up and down the fence, was great fun. The we drove further east to Greenport, a small waterfront town where we ate lunch and viewed the streets through a camera obscura, a series of lenses and mirrors that projects a real-time picture of the surroundings onto a table in a dark, oddly shaped building. From there, we continued all the way east to Orient Point, walked the rocky beach, and then headed back, stopping at a couple wineries along the way. That night, we drank down Port, and played more games of naked photo hunt than any of us remember. (If you're not aware, it's a bar video game, probably one of the best ones in the world.) I drove them back to JFK on Sunday afternoon and I can't wait for them to return.

Florida weekend

2007-04-25T20:42:00.000-04:00

It was so strange to fly into Tampa, get into my parent's car and then head in the opposite direction of my Aunt Sherry's house, or what used to be her house. Since I was a kid, we made trips to Florida at least once a year to visit my aunt. My parent's would whine the whole way home about how they didn't want to go back to Michigan, to the cold, to the dull, gray skies. They'd dream about how someday, one day, they would pack up and leave like my aunt had. Someday they could wear Hawaiian shirts every day. Someday they could throw out every shovel, sweater and winter coat they owned. Someday is now. And since my aunt relocated to Dallas a few months ago for her job, my parents are now my primary Florida relatives. I spent a long weekend with them there starting Thursday night. My mom and brother have been there for a while now, and my dad makes frequent trips from Michigan while he handles business with our house and his store. They've been renting a beach house, which is more technically a beach shack. It's a small place just five minutes from the gulf in an area that I can only describe as Key Westy. Next store is a three-story beach mansion with a widow's walk on top. Behind them is a less impressive shack with a dog, a cat, and a potbelly pig who sunbathe on the lawn. Old, leather-skinned men walk around shirtless and barefoot with fishing poles in hand. The music from two beach bars, not a quarter mile away, can be heard at night. Staying there is really an authentic Florida experience. Every morning we walked on the beach before opening the store. And on Friday, I sat with my parents as they signed the mile-high stack of closing papers on their new house, a three-bedroom ranch a little farther north in the city of Gulfport. I kind of laughed as the woman at the title office read off the date of their last mortgage payment -- 2037. I'll be 53. Add 30 more years (31 for my dad) to calculate my parent's age. But there's a built-in pool, a garage my brother says has "potential" and the promise of warm and sunny days for years to come. I know they'll be happy.

VT

2007-04-16T19:56:00.000-04:00

More than any other type of crime, school shootings really bother me in that sinking, cold way. Single murders shock me, rapes disgust me, and serial killers make me paranoid. But the thought of a mass killing at a school, whether it's filled with teenagers or college students, does all of the above. It gives me the chills. It makes my stomach lurch. Maybe because you're supposed to feel safe at school. Your mind is so occupied with tests and homework and activities that you forget about the real world. Maybe because not too long ago, I was sitting in one of those large lecture halls and I can only imagine the horror of someone opening fire on the stunned crowd, the chaos that must ensue. Maybe because even though it's happened before, you still don't think it could happen to you. And then it does. It's hard to believe. Thirty-two dead, most likely many of whom were students. Students who probably rolled out of bed this morning groaning about their early morning class, maybe scrambling to get their notes together and grabbing a coffee on their way to sit through another lecture, just like they have every other Monday this semester.

Do I know you?

2007-04-15T16:08:00.000-04:00

This is a small town. A small town where almost everyone went to high school together, worked together or knows so and so through their sister's boyfriend's cousin. It's that kind of place. And moving into this community with no ties whatsoever to Long Island, let alone New York, made it tough to find friends - at first. Somehow, though, I've managed to make a mark here. And now, it's rare to leave a bar without having run into someone familiar. It's nice in a way, a feeling of belonging. But the more it happens, the more it loses its appeal. I've lost my outsider veil, something that caused a lot of lonliness, but also made everything new and exciting. Nights out here are starting to resemble holiday vacations at home, where before stepping into the local bar, you always wonder what friends will already be inside, what enemies you'll run into in the bathroom, and what girl he'll be kissing.

Life update

2007-04-09T20:14:00.000-04:00

It's been a while, and I really have no excuse for not updating. I've had busy days, but also completely dull days, where the only thing stopping me from posting is the thought of walking the eight feet from my couch to my computer. I made it today, so here goes:

I went to my first Yankees game on Thursday with Pete from work and his friends. The stadium itself is pretty amazing, and not in the way of Comerica Park, PNC Park, or some other corporate namesake. No children's rides, fancy concession booths or waterfalls; just extremely small seats, the occasional garbage floating in from the surrounding Bronx and a whole lot of history. We ate dinner at a little Spanish restaurant, where I ordered some really good plantains. Then we bundled up and froze in the snowy stands until the end of the seventh inning, when we finally left for the warmth of our cars. It might technically be spring, but it sure doesn't feel like it. I can't wait to visit my family in Florida in a couple weeks.

I got into an accident two weekends ago. Nothing serious, at least not in terms of injuries. I was in a line of cars waiting to merge onto a busy street near my apartment where you have to sit at a stop sign until the traffic clears. The SUV in front of me went (or appeared to), so I glanced behind me, saw a clearing, and stepped on the gas without looking ahead. Seconds later, I crashed into the back of the SUV, whose driver apparently stopped after the sign for some reason I really can't figure out. Luckily, he wasn't mean (I dread the day I piss off a stereotypical New Yorker on the road), and the damage to his car was minimal – a couple scratches at most. Unluckily, the damage to my car was more extensive. What looks like minor fixes to my
untrained eye – a broken headlight cover and a slightly bent hood – turned out to be an estimated $2,500 shop fee. Ridiculous. A quick check on Kelly Bluebook confirmed that my car isn't even worth that much. Yet, a new car definitely doesn't fit into my budget at the moment. I refused service at the regular shop, and through one of those friend-of-a-friend connections, I got a quote for $1,350. There goes my tax return. But at least my car will be back in shape soon.

I spent Easter Sunday by myself. In fact, I only stepped out of my apartment once to take some trash to the dumpster. I actually didn't mind. A few different coworkers invited me to spend some time with their families, but I declined. It's always a little awkward to take part in a family tradition with strangers. And, although a little boring, it was kind of nice to spend the day by myself. The spring-cleaning bug bit me, and I went through my closet throwing out shoes, papers, and random stuff I held onto for no reason. And I finished a book I've been working on for a while. My goal to read 50 this year hasn't been off to a great start. So maybe that's what I needed to get back on track.

A day for my shoes

2007-03-20T15:08:00.000-04:00

I had a special addition to my St. Patrick's Day wardrobe this year. And unlike green clothing that you can wear any other day of the year and still fit in with a crowd, that's just not possible with green shoes. At least not with this pair. After debating back and forth with Abbey in the Saucony outlet store a few months ago, I bought the bright (and I mean bright) green pair of shoes, which even have the image of a shamrock on the backs. Abbey was convinced that with a bit of wearing in, they'd be ready for everyday use. So I tried it. Their first time out of the house was to a local bar. As expected, they received lots of points and comments. Flattering for them, I'm sure, but annoying for me as I had to stop myself from responding to random drunks: "No, it's not your imagination, my shoes are REALLY green." However, it wasn't until they made an appearance in the grocery store -- where an older man actually stopped pushing his cart, backed up, and told me that I was wearing "St. Patrick's Day shoes" -- that I decided to save them for the special holiday. Good choice, because while green shirts, buttons, boas, and even hair was in abundance, green shoes were rare. My pair got the attention it deserved, especially on the fresh snow-covered NYC streets. And I didn't have to explain my fashion choice to anyone.
Big picture now: St. Patrick's Day was great all-around, not just for my shoes. I took the train to Abbey and Adam's apartment in Jersey on Friday night, and after some pre-drinking there on Saturday morning, we headed into the city. The previous day's ice storm deterred us from going to the parade, but we found lots of entertainment at an Irish bar. (For the $20 cover, I wouldn't expect anything less). Abbey and I encountered quite a few crazy characters, including a group of Scottish (yes, Scottish, not Irish) men in kilts who showed us multiple times the traditional way to wear the skirts. Not really a pretty sight, but funny all the same. After almost 12 hours of beer, we somehow navigated ourselves to Burritoville before going home (actually, Abbey gets the credit for leading our drunk pack), and then back to the train station. My shoes are now safely back in my closest, waiting for next year, or just a day when I'm feeling particularly brave.

Weekend in Indy

2007-03-15T18:37:00.000-04:00

The first thing I noticed when I arrived in Indianapolis last Thursday night was the accent. I've never been to Indy, not counting a stopover on a trip to Purdue, but I never would have thought that the people living in a city just five hours away from my hometown would sound so southern. I mean, it's all the Midwest, right? Anyway, I spent the weekend with Amy, one of my college roommates and best friends, who hasn't yet adopted the sound of the Hooisers surrounding her. A little before I moved out here, Amy started an internship at The Indianapolis Star, was eventually hired onto staff, and hasn't left since. It was the first time I've seen her new place (a great apartment in what used to be an old hotel), met her new friends (very cool), and saw her new city (which kind of reminds me of downtown Lansing on a larger scale). We spent a lot of the weekend doing what we would have done on an average Saturday at MSU two years ago: drank, cured our hangovers with Qdoba, shopped and then spent hours choosing and rechoosing our outfits for the night. To celebrate Amy's birthday, a couple other friends drove into town -- Jeremy from Lansing, and a very pregnant Tara from Chicago with her one-and-a-half year old daughter Adriyanna. Adriyanna, by the way, is absolutely adorable and so different from the last time I saw her, meaning she actually talks and walks (well, actually runs) now. We spent much of Saturday at the Children's Museum, which is amazing even for adults; Dinosaurs, sand boxes, artwork, it would take days to explore everything there. We also drove by the Indianapolis Speedway, which is much bigger than I imagined and pretty impressive, even though I still don't understand the sport. Of course, Sunday night came much faster than any of us wanted. Now I can't wait to show Amy my new place, new friends and new city.

Shady Lane

2007-03-05T19:17:00.000-05:00

Finally, after almost a year and a half on the market, my house has sold. Well, not my house, my parent's house, but it's hard for me to not claim it as my own. There are so many memories there. Thinking about it now, my mind goes through that cheesy flashback thing they do in the movies: laughing in the backyard playing hide and go seek or acting out some crazy storyline we came up with on the fly, whether it was sailing off to Europe in our sky fort or swimming as mermaids in the pool; Hovering over the computer in the living room, surrounded by friends and flirting with guys in chat rooms when AOL was brand new and you were super cool if you had a scanner to download your seventh-grade picture; mom in kitchen, taking a break from her "studio" to make Jess and I an after-school snack. We still rave about the "macho nachos" and her other creations when food was a little scarce; My Grandpa sitting at the kitchen table every day with a cup of coffee and a cookie to split with the dog; Playing HORSE and Around the World with my dad in the driveway; The parties: Christmas Eve, Halloween, Easter, birthdays, you name it. Always filled with lots of family, friends and food. This is a long flashback. And it deserves to be longer, but not here. The point is, the house is sold, and it's tough for me to imagine someone else -- a couple, maybe a family eventually -- filling it with their own laughter, their own parties, adding their own damage to that chip in the kitchen floor. It's not that big of a house, and I don't know how anyone else's memories can fit in with the ones I already keep there.

Another visitor

2007-02-26T19:22:00.000-05:00

It was a weekend of firsts for my friend Michelle, who made her first plane ride, her first train ride and her first trip to New York City. Seriously, this girl has never flown before, and yet she managed to navigate herself through one of the busiest airports in the world -- JFK -- to the Airtrain, and then through Jamaica station to the Long Island Rail Road. I was definitely impressed when she showed up at the local station without making a single "I'm lost" or panicked phone call. With all of the visitors I've had lately, I'm becoming a New York City tour guide. And I won't lie, some of the regular tourists spots are getting old. But mixed in with the typical stop in Times Square and Central Park, Michelle and I tried out a couple new sites. Instead of the Empire State Building, we went to the "Top of the Rock," the catchy name for the observation deck on top of Rockefeller Center. Granted, it's not quite as tall as Empire and the movie hype isn't there, but I actually liked it better. The line was shorter, the displays were newer and the view at the very top was unobstructed by glass or steel bars. We also took a look at the UN Building, which is really cool. Abbey and Adam met us for lunch at Burritoville, a really great Mexican chain restaurant that completely beats Chipotle any day. I've never seen a restaurant with so many vegetarian options -- soy sour cream, tempeh, and the option of whole wheat tortillas. Abbey left to babysit and Adam hung out with us for the rest of the night while we met up with friends for lots of bar hopping. Michelle's trip was over in no time. I drove her back to JFK early Sunday morning and then continued on to Jersey for an afternoon of Apples to Apples with Abbey, Adam, Mason, Fink and Sarah. With her first-flight jitters out of the way, I hope Michelle will come back soon. Now who's next?

Science in San Francisco

2007-02-21T20:50:00.000-05:00

I just got back from a long weekend in San Francisco, and besides a nightmarish experience in the airport and a lingering cold, I had an amazing time. I left with two colleagues on Thursday morning for the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) annual meeting, a gathering of scientists, journalists and science PIOs. The day started early -- 3:15 a.m. Because of a huge ice storm the day before, we gave ourselves some extra time to get to JFK. Everything seemed to be running smoothly for a bit. We sailed through baggage check and security, grabbed a light breakfast, boarded the plane and taxied out to the runway. Then the plane pulled off to the side while the runway was inspected for ice one more time. And we sat. And sat. We listened to an announcement that the food available on the plane had run out (exempting first class, of course). And we sat some more. Finally, four and a half hours later, we took off. Our stomachs ached when the smell of fresh-baked cookies served in first class drifted back to our cramped quarters. And then we sat some more for the five and a half hour flight. We drifted through the rest of the night, stuffing our faces with Indian food and then going to bed. The rest of the weekend was great.

San Francisco is a beautiful city, almost European with its sidewalk dining, and yet unlike anything I've ever seen. The hills are filled with white and pastel-colored houses and buildings, and the taxis provide mini roller coaster rides to their passengers as they plummet downhill. We visited the typical spots: Fisherman's Wharf, where we watched the sea lions; Lombard Street, where we sped down the famous, although somewhat disappointing curviest road; Golden Gate Park, where we repeatedly received offers for mushrooms and "purple bud;" and Haight Street, where we ate some really good burritos. We also took a nighttime ferry cruise on the bay and visited most of the ethnic neighborhoods: North Beach (Italy), Chinatown and Little Saigon. The meeting itself was a sort of mini-reunion for me, bringing together some of the people I've met around the world in the past year or so. There's Katie, who I met in Illinois, visited me while I was in Switzerland, and now lives there. Neil, who I only knew through video conferences from Palo Alto before meeting in Geneva. Dave, who I heard about through the grapevine and met this weekend. These people, and many others, all mixed in with many new faces I'm bound to see somewhere else around the world.

"Happy" Valentine's Day

2007-02-12T08:55:00.000-05:00

The little girl in me loves Valentine's Day. She loves the pink and red chocolate boxes, flowers and stuffed animals lining the rows of CVS and Target. She loves the flimsy valentines with images of cartoons and hearts. And she loves the brightly colored conversation candies, even though they make her sick. But the adult in me tells the little girl to stop dreaming, because none it actually means anything for her. Because once again, there will be no flowers delivered to her door. There won't be rose petals or romantic dinners -- just her and a bag of sugary hearts that make her stomach ache.

"Woah"

2007-02-03T13:23:00.000-05:00

That's a "woah" as in Joey Lawrence, added in with a bit of NKOTB's Joey McIntyre, and the less-famous 98 Degrees Lachey brother, Drew. What in the world could bring these three has-beens together? Dancing with the Stars, of course. (Well, that and the desparate need to revive their careers and dwindling bank accounts.) I never thought I'd see a Dancing with the Stars touring show. Actually, I didn't even know such a thing existed. But Friday night I got to see these three fading stars in full toe-pointing, hip-shaking action after Vanessa's dad acidentally ordered six extra tickets. I must say, I was impressed. The professional dancers were amazing, and the celebs were able to keep up pretty well. I don't know how you could leave the show without being just a little tempted to sign up for classes at Arthur Murray.

Jesse visits L.I.

2007-01-29T20:52:00.000-05:00

As a Christmas present, I bought my brother a plane ticket from Tampa to Long Island. He was here last weekend, and we had a great time both in Port Jeff and NYC. My brother has never been to New York, except for a quick stay on the stateside half of Niagara Falls years ago. His first observation: the accent, more specifically, mine. Supposedly, I'm starting to adopt some of the pronunciations heard in the area. Yet, I still talk very much like a Michigander according to my NY friends and coworkers. This leaves me with a sort of hybrid accent, which while at a local bar on Thursday night with Jesse and a couple friends, was cause for teasing from both sides. "Call," "tired," "salad," you name it, I don't say it correctly in anyone's book. Luckily, we came across enough true Long Islanders to mostly deflect my brother's attention away from my own dialect.
Jesse got a taste of Port Jeff on Thursday and Friday -- pizza, small-town bars, and even the local puppy store. On Saturday, it was time for the big stuff. We got on the earliest train we could manage and headed into the city. I thought I walked a lot when my mom came to visit, but I'm pretty sure this recent sight-seeing loop blew that tour out of the water. We started in the financial district, stopping at Wall Street, Battery Park, and the World Trade Center site. Then, since Jesse could "see" the Empire State Building, he insisted on walking up to Midtown. I don't think he realized that you can pretty much see that building from anywhere in the metro area. Despite some really sore feet and legs, we were both glad we opted for the above-ground route over the subway because we got to walk through some great parts of the city. We were stereotypical tourists in Times Square, running to the median to get the best photos and then darting off to Rockefeller Center to take pictures of the ice skaters. We met Abbey and Adam for dinner at Carmine's. As usual, there was an hour and a half wait, but also as usual, the food was great. We all went to Blondies afterward to drink and watch the MSU basketball game.
When my parents found out brother was getting a ticket out here for Christmas, they bought us a related joint-gift -- a room in a hotel overlooking Central Park. It was so nice to just take the short subway ride back to our room on Saturday instead of the hour-ride back out east. Plus, it gave us more time to sight see on Sunday. We grabbed bagels for breakfast and took a long, winding walk around Central Park and then down Fifth Avenue. Neither of us had extra money to spend after a long weekend of eating out and drinking, but we still had fun looking in some of the theme-park-like stores. I dropped Jess off at the airport last night after our train ride back, and now I think we're both physically and financially exhausted.

2006 book list

2007-01-10T21:06:00.000-05:00

At the beginning of last year I decided to start a book journal to keep track of what I read during the year. At the time, I set a goal to read 50 titles by 2007. It seemed possible at first, but that was when I lived in Geneva, with few English-language TV stations and a room full of Jehovah Witnesses to avoid at least once a week. I hit 26. Here's the list. If you want my opinion on a specific book, or want to recommend one for this year, let me know.

Lolita ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Tears of the Moon ~ Nora Roberts

Angels and Demons ~ Dan Brown

Wicked ~ Gregory Maguire

A Million Little Pieces ~ James Frey

My Sister's Keeper ~ Jodi Picoult

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason ~ Helen Fielding

Invisible Monsters ~ Chuck Palahniuk

River, Cross my Heart ~ Breena Clarke

The Last Time They Met ~ Anita Shreve

The Time Traveler's Wife ~ Audrey Niffenegger

Anne of Ingleside ~ L.M. Montgomery

A House Somewhere ~ Various authors

Night ~ Elie Wiesel

Memoirs of a Geisha ~ Arthur Golden

Lullaby ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Atonement ~ Ian McEwan

Basket Case ~ Carl Hiaassen

Survivor ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

The Glass Castle ~ Jeannette Walls

I am Not Myself These Days ~ Josh Kilmer-Purcell

Choke ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Dispatches from the Edge ~ Anderson Cooper

Running with Scissors ~ Augusten Burroughs

Dry ~ Augusten Burroughs

Animals!

2007-01-07T19:28:00.000-05:00

Today, Abbey and I discovered one of the best-kept secrets in Long Island. Well, it's not really a secret, it's advertised on the side of the road with big letters on a bright orange sign: "Come feed our livestock!" We drove past it as we were checking out some of the north fork's vineyards, and curiosity caused us to turn around. At an empty farmer's stand that's probably jam-packed in the summer months, a sign asks for you to insert $2 in exact change in a plastic tube and then help yourself to a bag of corn kernels. Seconds after we stepped from the stand, bag of food in hand, we were spotted. Spotted by about 30 farm animals -- goats, sheep, horses, ducks -- who ran, or rather stampeded in our direction, every one of them hightailing it from the other side of the farm for the promise of snacks. If there hadn't been a fence in front of us, I would have been running just as fast back toward my car. We were like kids in a petting zoo. And goat spit and scary horse teeth aside, from now on a trip out east won't feel complete without stopping to feed our new friends.

Here they come!

What month is it?

2007-01-06T16:22:00.000-05:00

What a beautiful day -- sunny and in the upper 60s -- a far shot from a typical January day in New York. It felt like one of the first days of spring, when people roll down their windows, shed the layers of extra clothing, and just breathe. It's so nice, yet it also seems wrong, and a little scary. I don't really know what's causing this mild weather here and around the country. Although forecasts say it won't last too much longer, and this day will soon be forgotten.

Best Christmas Gift Ever

2007-01-03T19:20:00.000-05:00

Who wants to cuddle up with Mike and Vanessa? Any takers?

Home for the holidays

2006-12-25T19:34:00.000-05:00

I'm not home anymore. Well, actually, I am home. In my NY "home," which really isn't where the heart is, as they say. At least not for Christmastime. I just got back from a little more than a week-long trip to Michigan, and the last few days have been kind of a blur. I stood up in Lindsay and Trep's wedding on Friday, so in addition to the usual holiday happenings, there was lots to do surrounding that: bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner, gift-finding, lots of salon and beauty parlor time, and of course, the wedding itself. I've been looking forward to this wedding for so long (since we were kids, really). And I wasn't let down. Everything was so beautiful, from the flowers to the heart-shaped cookies made by Lindsay's grandparents. Lindsay was gorgeous and I'm pretty sure everyone shed at least a tear and then danced it off later at the reception. My mom and brother flew in from Florida for the wedding, and for the first time in more than a year, the four of us were all back in the house. There's no better feeling than waking up to the sound of mom downstairs making coffee and my dad snoring down the hall. Well, there are better sounds, but none more comforting. We held a huge Christmas party on the 23rd, inviting everyone from co-workers to neighbors. My parents have held some large parties in the past, but this was definitely the biggest. I've never seen more people crowded in those rooms. We did our gift-opening on Christmas Eve and ordered Chinese food for dinner at my aunt's house. Then it was off to the airport early this morning. My mom and brother are probably on their way back down south right now. Once again, I feel cheated on family time and I'm not sure that's ever going to change.

Wedding countdown

2006-12-19T09:43:00.000-05:00

We had her bachelorette party on Saturday night, but I still can't believe Lindsay's getting married this week. I've been looking forward to it for more than a year, and I picked up my dress from her house yesterday, but now, it's actually here. Well, it will be in three more days. And then she'll be Mrs. Trep, a name I've only associated with Chris' mom, back when she'd bring snacks to track meets or Science Olympiad contests.

The gift of life

2006-12-14T19:53:00.000-05:00

I'm a wimp about a lot of things. I don't like roller coasters. I can't swim in the ocean without thinking there's a shark or some scary creature darting around my feet. And I really don't like needles. So the thought of freely giving up my blood, facing that drawing needle without the orders of a doctor, has always given me the shivers. But I decided to get over it. Or at least just try it. I'm healthy. I don't have HIV, or Hepatitis C, or a laundry list of other diseases they ask you about on the registration form. I haven't had a tattoo in the last year or surgery in the last three months. I definitely weigh more than 110 pounds. Check, check, check. And I'm not exactly wealthy -- check -- not a blood donor requirement, but seeing as I don't have extra money to donate to charity, why not give in a way just as valuable? Arguably more. So today I gave blood. Not going to lie, I was scared. Right arm out, fist clenched, eyes shut tight, a pinch, pressure, plastic bag fills, it's filled, release, deep breaths, tingling, juice, an escort, cookies. I survived. No passing out, no nurses repeatedly poking at my veins. Not a big deal. Have I overcome my fear of needles? Definitely not. But I've learned to suck it up.

I have great friends

2006-12-10T19:23:00.000-05:00

I was feeling really down this weekend. Just really lonely, which always tends to spiral into a thick depression that's tough to shake. And Abbey must have noticed when we talked last night, because shorly after I woke up this morning, she made a surprise visit to Port Jefferson with Adam. We walked downtown and made a trip to the outlet mall with the intention of Christmas shopping that really turned into shopping for ourselves. It was just what I needed before heading into another long week.

O Tannenbaum

2006-12-02T20:16:00.000-05:00

I bought and assembled my Christmas tree this weekend. It looks a little Charlie Brownish, but that's what you get for $17.

Thanksgiving break

2006-11-27T21:24:00.000-05:00

We ate these...

And did lots of this...
Some might have felt like this...

But most of us felt like this...

And one couple did this...

I'm so excited to go home

2006-11-21T14:22:00.001-05:00

That is all.

Please return my stuff

2006-11-16T19:41:00.000-05:00

This post is dedicated to you, the lowlife who stole the care package sent from my mom. The mailman remembers climbing the stairs and placing it in front of my door at precisely 2:05 p.m. on Monday. Yet just three hours later, it was no where to be seen. I hope you're enjoying that spice rack, a late housewarming gift. And the serving tray decorated with photos taken during my trip to Europe, enjoy that, too. If I knew you were actually using these things, I might feel a little better. But I'm pretty sure that once you opened the package and found these worthless items (worthless to you, at least), you probably tossed them in the nearest dumpster along with the 80s T-shirt you took a couple weeks ago.

Neighborhood watch

2006-11-14T22:01:00.000-05:00

I'm walking from my slightly scary parking lot to my apartment after work today, talking to Abbey on the phone, when I pass a car with a Nevada license plate idling in the driveway. A scratchy, cigarette-damaged voice yells "Hey Sweetie, did you hear what happened today?" I look into the car window and there's one of my neighbors from the next-door building, an older woman who moved in not long ago. "No," I say, a bit confused. Apparently, an armed woman robbed a bank on a nearby street and is still on the run. "Sweetie," the woman says in that cheap waitress voice. "Lock your doors and your windows and scream as loud as you can if you see anything. I have three sons and they'll be over in a second if anything's wrong. Do you have anything to put in front of your door?" OK, it's nice to know that someone's looking out for me, but I'm a big girl, and honestly, I'm not that concerned about the robber at large. But here's where things get more strange: "Sweetie, when you get into your place, flash your lights three times, or else I'm calling 911. Seriously. I want to bake for you." What? Do those sentences actually belong in the same breath? "Do you like chocolate?" Yeah. "Brownies or cake?" Um, either. "Do you like lava cake?" Yes. "Mint, raspberry, or chocolate." I'm so confused. Any of those are good. "OK. Here, take down my number. Don't hesitate to call. That woman is desperate." Who are we talking about now? I manage to end the conversation a good ten minutes later. At least until I walk about five feet away from the car and then she's talking, or rather yelling, again about the robber and how the school was closed and to be careful. I say thanks and goodnight, walk upstairs, flash my bedroom lights three times and hope she sees them.

Two years left

2006-11-07T18:19:00.000-05:00

I always feel good after I vote. It's easy to feel insignificant in this country, like you're just one of millions. But after punching in my votes for the people I think should lead this country, I still feel like somehow my voice will be heard. I hope we wake up to a new Congress tomorrow morning. One that can drag this country out of the mess it's in, or at least keep it from sinking even deeper before 2008. Halfway there.

Wanting more than a phone

2006-11-05T20:15:00.000-05:00

I was talking to a friend from Illinois the other day who moved out here not long ago for a job. I asked him about his family and I found out that besides having Midwest roots in common, we also both dealt with moving in the same way. "You're going to think I'm crazy," he said. "For a long time after I came out here, I hated talking to my family. I wouldn't pick up the phone." He hated talking to them because he loves them, and misses them, and a ten-minute phone conversation just isn't enough. I felt, and still sometimes feel, exactly the same. It's painful. Because as much as you love to hear their voices, all you really want is to be sitting in the same room as them. And no matter how hard you try not to, they'll tell certain jokes that make you cry instead of laugh.

Happy Halloween!

2006-10-29T20:26:00.000-05:00

There was one problem with our "Saved by the Bell" costumes: We found pretty much everything we needed on the shelves of Target. That's OK in terms of convenience and price, but it also meant we looked very much like the girls walking around in the mall, outfitted in leggins, skirts and scrunchies because it's fashionable, not because it's funny. We, on the other hand, just wanted to impersonate a pair of Bayside High School's finest: Kelly Kapowski (Abbey) and Jessie Spano (me). So when we showed up at one of the bars in downtown Port Jeff, we got more than a couple funny looks from people who must have thought we took the latest trend a step too far. We tried prove we weren't really freaks by flashing pictures of our "boyfriends" (Zack Morris and AC Slater). And I sang a couple lines from Jessie's caffeine-induced version of "I'm so excited." Eventually others showed up in costume and we stopped caring what people thought. It was a really fun night, and for the record, you'll never see me in those black leggins again. At least not in the real world.

Who's your Tiger?

2006-10-24T19:41:00.000-04:00

I don't think you ever lose pride for your hometown teams. Proof: Me and Abbey, recent East Coast transplants not caring how dumb we look in our Pudge and Kenny masks. Go Tigers!

Pumpkin party

2006-10-22T19:40:00.000-04:00

Growing up, my mom always hosted an annual pumpkin-carving party at our house where neighbors, family members and friends gathered to make their Jack-o-lanterns. I loved it. Halloween wouldn't be complete without pumpkin carving, so I held my own party this weekend. See the photos for the outcome.

Family photo

2006-10-14T09:06:00.000-04:00

Key West Reunion

2006-10-12T19:47:00.000-04:00

What happens when you reunite a family in a warm climate, with numerous open-air bars and a fifth of vodka in a hotel room? Look no further than the photo above for your answer. This past weekend was sleepless, boiling hot and caused me to battle a pretty nasty cold in the days following it, but above all, it was just a really good time.
Key West has always been a traditional vacation spot for my family. My great aunt and uncle used to own a condo there and we (which includes my mom, dad, brother, aunt, uncle and cousin) claimed it every Thanksgiving for a span of five or six years. But when the condo was sold, our family trips became less frequent. So in honor of a slew of milestones -- my uncle's 60th birthday, my cousin's second wedding anniversary and my aunt and uncle's 40th -- we planned to meet in Key West once again for a one-night stay. Coordinating the trip, however, wasn't as easy as it used to be. My brother drove from Orlando, dad flew in from Michigan, me from NY, and my cousin and his wife from Tennessee to meet up with the rest of the crew in Tampa. The next day we drove south to Fort Myers and took a boat to Key West, where for the next one and a half days we ate, drank, shopped, watched the street performers give a send-off to the setting sun and laughed, a lot. I hope that we can continue to continue the tradition.
The photo, by the way, is of my dad, my brother and my cousin Dean, who drank enough to think that wearing lampshades as hats was a good idea.

East Lansing on the Hudson

2006-09-24T18:37:00.000-04:00

Despite the awful ending to the MSU/Notre Dame game last night, I had a great time watching it. I met Kory, Lauren and Michelle at Blondies, a sports bar that plays a lot of Big Ten games. MSU alumni filled the back room to watch the game, Tennessee fans crowded the front room and a couple Buckeyes fans lingered outside, still excited about their victory earlier that day. I ran into a girl who lived on my floor in Holmes Hall sophomore year, bought an official "I 'Sparty' NY" T-shirt and screamed the fight song every time we scored. Lauren and Michelle morphed into MSU fans for the night, learning a little bit more of the cheers each time around. It was almost like being in the stands, except we didn't have to sit through the rain that fell in the second half. And there still was the familiar swell of shock that quiets the crowd when the gamelong lead is killed in the last few minutes of play.

My balcony!

2006-09-20T21:13:00.000-04:00

I came home today to find this. I suspected that I might be getting a new balcony when they started popping up on the building next door, and it was confirmed with a handwritten note placed under my door the other day by the apartment manager Lou. (Isn't that just a really stereotypical name for a landlord?) The construction workers put up some of the wooden supports yesterday. And today it was the hole in the wall, the doors and a ton of dust along with them. My apartment is crazy dirty right now. White chalky stuff is covering my couch, my floor, my computer and just about every little space you can imagine. I only vacuumed a small part of my living room since I assume they'll continue to make a mess tomorrow. In the end, having a balcony is definitely worth it. It's a place to sit in the summer, more room to put people during a party (should I actually ever meet enough people to have one), and the most important role for the moment -- a place to put a pumpkin for Halloween. My only question now is how long until they're going to raise the rent?

A must read

2006-09-07T19:03:00.000-04:00

I recently finished a really great book that's pretty relevant to next week's headlining news - the five-year anniversary of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. It didn't tell the story of the people in the towers, the passengers on the planes, the firefighters who responded or the government's response. It took a subtler, but just as powerful approach. "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close," by Jonathan Safran Foer, follows 9-year-old Oskar Schell throughout New York City on a secret mission: to find the lock that matches a key owned by his father, who died in the World Trade Center. This fictional story is definitely a tearjerker. Oskar, a super intelligent outcast who is constantly inventing devices in his head, writes letters to Stephen Hawking and calls vaginas "VJs," keeps a box of "things that have happened to me," including successive photos of a man jumping from the towers. As he wanders through the city, he meets a cast of characters just as strange, each with their own pain. His humor and bluntness is both uplifting and sad, and a look at how Sept. 11 might have affected those who were left behind.

The end of summer

2006-09-05T20:27:00.000-04:00

Already? It went by so quickly. But that's definitely what Labor Day symbolizes. (That is, besides the whole honoring the work force thing.) I spent my weekend at the Jersey shore once again. One of my old roommates, Emily, was staying with Abbey so we all headed down on Saturday morning in pouring rain courtesy of Ernesto. But the storm didn't prevent us from hitting the beach -- with garbage bags as makeshift raincoats. As soon as we stepped away from the shelter of the shore houses, the wind was overwhelming. I felt like one of those crazy people you see reporting from the scene of a hurricane on The Weather Channel, struggling just to stand and speak without a bucket of sand entering their mouths. The sight was amazing, though. I've never seen waves so huge. It was a line of constant white crashing on the shore. Emily, Abbey and I hid behind the bathhouse while the guys ventured out a little farther. After 10 minutes or so we were all hurting from the sandblasting and headed to a local bar looking lovely, as you can imagine. We spent most of the day there, watching MSU "mash Idaho's potatoes" and playing Bingo.
Somehow, the next day was beautiful and we sat on the beach for a while, sans garbage bags. The guys and girls of the shore house threw their annual Labor Day party that night.
Now the weather's getting cooler, which makes me happy for fall, but sad for winter. I wish we could just skip over that season and start with spring again. Or summer.

Life's been too normal

2006-08-28T19:29:00.000-04:00

So here's a slightly less scary photo from Miranda's visit, just so you didn't think we really look like aliens.
On another note, I haven't had any weird encounters in a while. Things have been pretty normal. Until today. I stopped at the grocery store after work to pick up some much-needed food, among which was a head of broccoli. I thought it looked fine as I put it in the plastic produce bag. Green. Fresh. What more could you ask for from broccoli, right. Well, apparently the check-out guy felt differently. "Honey, you don't want this," he said, making one of those scrunched up little kid faces. Then he tossed the bag over his shoulder, hitting the cash register in the lane next to him. I just kind of stared and then said "OK, thanks" a bit too excitedly. I have no idea why I thanked him. I just really didn't want to offend a guy like that. Who knows what would get tossed next, or if I'd even leave the store with any food in my cart. He mumbled a couple other things before announcing the total; maybe it was an inspection of the grapes, or the lettuce. However, it was only the broccoli that got cut. I think I'll stop at the competing grocery store tomorrow and try to buy some of it there.

Another visitor

2006-08-23T19:13:00.000-04:00

Miranda, one of my high school friends, came to visit for a few days. We spent a good amount of time making dumb pictures, like this one, but we also managed to see a bit of the outside world. We ate dinner at Smithpoint, a beach on the south shore, discovered that one of the local bars offers $1 beers on Monday nights and learned how to navigate around LaGuardia airport, after getting lost and stuck in deadlock traffic a couple times.

Mom visits

2006-08-14T19:07:00.000-04:00

My mom flew into New York this weekend. It was a short visit – less than 48 hours – but we really did a lot. We spent Saturday on Long Island, mostly in Port Jefferson. After opening up some birthday presents my mom packed in her luggage, we walked downtown for lunch at a vegetarian restaurant I've wanted to check out. I'm not used to having many choices when I'm out to eat; when the meat dishes are ruled out, most lengthy menus can be reduced to just a couple vegetarian-friendly options, which usually include a salad, some type of sandwich and possibly a pasta dish. So it took a while to pick a selection. Afterward we walked in and out of some of the shops and had a drink on the roof of one of the waterfront restaurants. The weather was really perfect the entire weekend. We drove around for a while after that, making stops at Kohl's and Trader Joe's, neither of which exist yet in Florida. The Trader Joe's stop was especially painful for my mom, who picked up frozen and refrigerated foods left and right only to replace them on the shelves after she realized they'd never survive her trip back home. I guarantee you that a letter to Trader Joe's pleading for a southern expansion is in the works.
For dinner we headed back to Port Jeff, to a pizza place my dad really enjoyed when he was here. Then we waited in a ridiculously long line at Maggie Moos for desert, where it was obvious that the employees really just wanted to lock the doors before anyone else came in. We woke up early on Sunday to catch a train into the city, my mom's first visit there. We met Abbey near Penn Station and set off at high speed to keep to with our packed itinerary. Our whirlwind tour included: the Empire State Building, Macy's, Times Square, veggie burgers at McDonalds (as far as I know they're only sold at the golden arches in NYC), Rockefeller Center, St. Patrick's Cathedral, 5th Avenue, FAO Schwartz, where we played on the giant piano, and Central
Park and Strawberry Fields. Although there's so much more to do, I think we covered a pretty fair share of the city in the time we had. And by the time we headed back to the train station I don't think anyone felt like walking another step.

Schizophrenic

2006-08-11T21:37:00.000-04:00

I got a new laptop at the lab, a super nice Macbook Pro. My favorite feature, besides its really sleek look and the pop-up menu at the bottom, is Photo Booth, a program that allows you to take pictures of yourself with the little camera on top of the screen and seriously alter them. (Leah and Jason, I think I had as much fun as you two did with this program!) These are some of the results:

Scary thought

2006-08-10T18:25:00.000-04:00

I'm tired of the world being scared. I don't want to "Look out for suspicious activities," as the signs posted at train stations, outside of ATM machines and in the parking lots of fast food restaurants will tell you. I don't want to wonder what the guy sitting next to me on the plane might be carrying inside his suitcase or in his British sports drink, or watch the nightly news to discover what "deadly food" is lurking in my fridge, or what vicious bacteria is living on the bottom of my purse. Al Qaeda, orange and red alerts, freeway shooters, west Nile, North Korea, SARS, Iraq, bird flu, Iran, Israel, nuclear missiles, shoe bombs, university kids arrested on terror charges. And now, I must fear toothpaste. And mouthwash, and baby formula that hasn't been taste tested in front of a TSA official. Watch out. That bottle of face lotion might have been expensive, but it also could be deadly.

23!

2006-08-09T18:43:00.000-04:00

I met Abbey, Adam and Walt in the city yesterday to celebrate my birthday. I left work a little early and took the train into Penn Station. From there it was a short walk to Carmines, a family-style Italian restaurant that Abbey loves and planned for us to eat at. Right outside of Times Square, Carmines was really busy, even on a Tuesday night. The wait time for a table was about an hour, but it was worth it. Afterward, we had a couple drinks at Heartland Brewery before heading back to the train station. I'm still amazed by the energy of the city every time I visit. I'd love to live in Manhattan, or closer to it. Just for a couple years. I know it would be overwhelming, not to mention expensive, but it's one of those things I want to try. It's like that "Suncreen" song that used to dominate the radio suggests: Live in New York, but leave before you get too hard. Live in California, but leave before you get too soft. Sounds like a good plan, right?
But, anyway. Back to the birthday. The people in my office "surprised" me at work, although I was already onto their plan. My boss asked me to come back to the building in the afternoon for a meeting, (I switch offices after lunch), and I immediately became suspicious, knowing that usually an email is sent out for things like this. Of course, there was no meeting when I returned, but there was cake in the conference room.
The only downside to the day was my ride back home, when three drunken guys about my age started making fun of everyone in our train, including me. They catcalled at an older woman in the front of the car, asking how much she was worth, talked about the dangers of high cholesterol when two heavier girls sat in front of them and hurled homophobic-inspired slurs at a younger guy with eyeliner on. I was dubbed as "fatty," by one guy, although "kind of pretty," by the other. His friend vehemently disagreed. Basically, they were top-of-the-line, not to mention kind of ugly, jerks who should probably take a good look at their own bodies and personalities before being so mean to others. The worst part is that no one really said anything back. After trying to ignore them for a while, I made a couple comments that did no good. It's tough to get the strength to speak up when you're a girl who knows she'll have to walk by herself through a dark parking lot along with the creeps when the train stops. However, for as large as their bark, the boys must have been scared for their own safety once the train stopped. They stayed seated quietly once we reached the end station, waiting for everyone else to de-board before they moved.

Lindsay's bridal shower

2006-08-06T21:30:00.000-04:00

If Mrs. Crutchfield ever wants to switch up jobs, she could definitely make a go at a career as a wedding planner. Lindsay's bridal shower on Friday night was so nice, with chocolate martinis, watermelon strawberry mojitos, a tablefull of deserts and decor inspired by Martha Stewart. I flew in Friday morning and stopped by Lindsay's house a couple hours before the shower to help set up decorations. Under Lindsay's mom's direction, we attached ribbons, Japanese lanterns and white lights to tents in the backyard, set up tables of food, gifts and centerpieces with miniature roses. It probably would have worked just fine for the actual wedding reception, still four months away.
Each guest was given their own martini glass, which was filled by the neighborhood "moms," who doubled as bartenders for the night. Fighting against the estrogen-heavy vibe, Trep filled his with beer.
The friends from high school (and earlier) dominated the games, including putting pictures of Trep and Lindz in chronological order, answering questions about Lindsay's life, and predicting which questions about Trep she'd get right or wrong. And I got to see Michelle, who used to live next door, and was a permanent fixture in our childhood games of kick the can and hide and go seek.
The rest of my short weekend home was super busy. I got to visit with two sets of aunts and uncles, my cousins Brian and Nikki and their almost one-year-old son Jakob, and Carl. My dad and I had lunch at one of my all-time favorite restaurants, Cedar Gardens, and we ate dinner in Greektown on Saturday night. I really miss those places. Lindsay, Trep, Carl and I went to Fishbones for a drink later on Saturday and of course ran into a couple people from high school. (A visit to a SCS bar wouldn't be complete without that). And I managed to squeeze in two loads of laundry that I brought along with me because I'm lazy, broke and didn't feel like battling the cockroaches in the basement of my apartment complex.

Homemade cookies and John Mayer

2006-07-23T18:24:00.000-04:00

Abbey came to visit me this weekend in Port Jeff and I'm so glad she did. We had plans for a night at the bar on Friday and a drive over to the Hamptons on Saturday. After encountering a scary, blue-bearded bum and a delay on the LIRR, Abbey made it here safely and we followed through on the first part of our plan. Although a little later than expected, we still made it downtown to a bar called Billies that I've been wanting to check out. It was a fun place with a laid-back atmosphere, but it was really busy. Abbey and I were super excited that they had photo hunt, a video bar game we played continuously at Ricks in East Lansing. Of course, we also ran into someone with a U-M hat who didn't attend the school, which we complained about for a while. And Abbey got called out on her Midwestern "accent," which I really don't think exists.
We woke up the following morning to cloudy skies and a forecast for a day filled with rain and thunderstorms. Sure enough, it started raining on our trip to the bagel store for breakfast, so we called off the trip to the beach and substituted it for more rainy-friendly activities. We bought all the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies from scratch, at least we thought we had it all. And then we walked downtown to pick up the brown sugar that we'd overlooked the first time around, making a stop at the puppy store and a couple other shops along the way. I haven't made cookies that haven't originated from a box or a tube in many years, probably not since elementary school days, so Abbey definitely led the way on this one. With cookies baking, we watched one of three movies we rented and then went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant not far from my apartment. We watched the second movie after dinner, at least I did, Abbey fell asleep halfway through as usual. But she snapped back to life right after. We both had a hard time falling asleep even though we had to get up super early this morning to catch a train to the city. Earlier, we both had drank a can of Tilt, one of those caffeinated, alcoholic orange-type energy drinks, and I'm convinced it worked on some kind of time release that didn't kick in for about an hour. So of course we did the only thing we could to pass the time before sleep hit us: sing along with old John Mayer songs. That's right, Room for Squares style. It was definitely quite a sight and a flashback to high school. In fact, the whole day was reminiscent of a sleepover we might have had 13 or so years ago. Minus the Tilt, that is. Sometimes you need a reminder of how nice the simple things are in life.

NY resident for real

2006-07-20T20:47:00.000-04:00

I've survived not one, but two trips to the DMV without being eaten by one of the grumpy ladies behind the counter. Whether its the Secretary of State, the DMV or whatever your state calls it, tell me, why are the people who work at these places so unhappy? After staring at the number on my paper ticket for an hour and a half, I'm definitely not in the best of moods. And these women (I'm yet to see a guy in this job) only worsen the pain. But, like I said, I've survived this round and walked away with proof of my new residence. Including not one, but two license plates to replace my single old blue. Now I just have to figure out how to put them on. Help, anyone?

Underage no more

2006-07-17T20:35:00.000-04:00

It's true. My brother is officially 21 years old. Although it seems like he's been 21 for years, at least in the drinking aspect. I flew into Orlando to help him celebrate on Friday, as did a couple of his friends from Michigan. We had big plans for his first (legal) bar experience, which included a taxi and a cool bar downtown. But once 1 a.m. rolled around and there was still no call from the cab we called more than an hour ago, we took matters into our own hands, or really into Jeff's hands, as he drove us down the road to the first bar we could find. With last call at 1:45, there was no time to waste. We ended up at Wing Shack, or Wing Hut, or some shady bar with an extremely drunk DJ and a name to that effect. 1:30 p.m. We didn't think it possible to get drunk in 15 minutes. But three rounds of shots later, we were wrong. It might of helped that the bartender's name was Kendra, as was a girl on the other side of the bar, and she was thrilled have the trifecta present. I'm sure it resulted in drinks that were a bit stronger and quite a bit larger than normal. So although short, I'd say the night was a success, and a huge headache in the morning.

Just thinking

2006-07-10T22:18:00.000-04:00

Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you made just one decision differently? It really doesn't apply until you graduate high school, at least it doesn't for me. I'm not talking about deciding whether to go to class or not to go to class, or to do drugs or not to. I'm talking about the decisions where you have two or more possible options, all of which seem equally appealing. Life is really mapped out for you throughout the early school years. You know that first grade is followed by second. And 11th followed by 12th. You can choose classes and prom dates, but any drastic changes are usually the decisions of your parents, and you follow, because you really have no choice. After that, each decision is actually your own. Think back. What if you had attended a different college? Would you have the same friends or even the same degree? What if you had held out for a different job or settled for another one much earlier? Would you be living where you are now? Would you be in the same city, or state or country? Sometimes I'm grateful for the decisions I've made, because it's hard to imagine life much differently. But what if we could pull a "Choose Your Own Adventure" with our lives. Would you play?