Julie's Head

Staycation

2009-09-03T19:57:00.004-04:00

Yeah that's right I said it. Staycation.

We went away for 6 days but didn't fly, didn't leave the country we didn't even leave the state. We stayed!

I will say this about our trip, we have traveled far and wide and haven not encountered so much adversity and weirdness. Don't get me wrong, I had a hell of a time, but we really had a lot of obstacles to overcome and just flat out wacky stuff happen.

First off we had an uninvited guest. His name was Danny and he proceeded to piss all over us and our fun times. It rained our first 2 days of vacation and I'm sorry to say that, for some of our friends, this was the only time away they had. We tried to make the best of it but just ended up with soggy shoes and dampened spirits. We finally said F U mother nature and took the coolers, cornhole and chairs down the dune and sat in the drizzle on the beach. We used the beach umbrellas as...well...umbrellas and defied the elements for about an hour and a half before giving in and heading into the 'combah.

As usual we got beers, steamers and oyster shots. The Beachcomber is my happy place. I love it there and it was the only thing keeping me from being livid about the crappy weather. Usually we can get out of the bar without incurring any injuries, but alas the evening resulted in a swollen eye (I walked into a door. The bathroom doors at the comber are set up poorly and one opens in while the other opens out and I was stuck in the middle of it.) and a broken foot. The broken foot was not me it was poor Jenny who got stomped on by some dude on the dance floor.

Then on to Nantucket where we had beautiful weather and I was able to get in the last beach days of the season. Good sun was absorbed and I may actually keep the tan till October. The house we stayed in was beautiful and perfectly located (albeit jam packed with spiders) between town and Surfside beach. There was a tiny path that led to a nearly deserted beach and Michael and I decided to take said path via bicycle. Well...it was adventurous and really fun in an exhilarating sort of way, but I did fall off the bike and that has resulted in a decent case of poison ivy on my butt. Michael has it too on his wrists. I think from helping me up? I don't know. Whatever, we both have poison ivy and I'd much rather have it on my wrists than on my ass, thank you very much.

Anyway, we ate at two insanely good restaurants while there. Black Eyed Susan's is the home of the best linguine and clams ever. Yes, faithful readers, I have found my death row linguine and clams and they reside at Black Eyed Susan's in Nantucket. We went to LoLa 41 as well and that place was very impressive. I had the sesame chicken noodles (I love a good noodle, people) and it was delicious. When I inquired about the dish the waitress said, "it's a brothy dish." I said, "so it's soup?" She reluctantly agreed it was soup. What do Nantucketers have against soup that the waitress couldn't call a spade a spade?

Sigh...we are home now and even with all of the adversity, I'd rather be on vacation than sitting at work in my veal crate of a cubicle.

Bottles

2009-08-15T16:16:00.005-04:00

If you read with any sort of regularity you are going to scratch your head on this post unless I do some splainin. This morning Michael and I were out for our Saturday morning walk and we stumbled upon a recycle bin full of these crazy old bottles. We were flummoxed as to why some one would just get rid of these things, some of them were really impressive! We started picking through and one of the neighbors came out and started picking through with us. As it turns out this woman and her husband had been caring for her next door neighbors through 20 years of sickness, including Alzhimers. "You see", she said, "we're trying to get into heaven." She gave a little chuckle and I told her she has a great running start, if kindness gets you there. The neighbors have finally died and she was hoping that they would throw the bottles out so she could have her pick of them. She took most of the bottles and invited Michael and me over for a glass of wine some day. They were about the sweetest old couple I have ever met. The pictures below was my pull from the bin. I am posting this because I am going to post the link on an antique bottle site message board to see if any of these are worth anything. Start from the bottom and go up when viewing.

Mung Sucks

2009-08-10T18:10:00.006-04:00

Alright kids we're going to have a little lesson in New England beach attendance. Pay attention there may be a quiz later.

1) The water is cold. Even at its warmest it is still pretty effin cold. I have learned to adapt and swim when it's bone chillingly frigid, especially when you have to climb up a 50 foot dune to get to a bathroom. Which leads me to the next point...

2) The dune at Cahoon hollow is designed to break your spirit. You really don't get the full notion of what you're getting into on the way down. When you do arrive at the bottom of the dune and turn around it's really daunting. You know you have to climb back up there at some point. By the time you get back up to the top with all of your beach going crap you're hot and sweaty and any sort of refreshment achieved by aforementioned cold water is gone, baby, gone. Here's a tip; avoid Cahoon Hollow beach when Aunt Flo is in town or you're having any sort of tummy trouble or when the water is "munged in."

3) The stuff in the water is called mung. It's seaweed I suppose, but this particular brand of seaweed is called mung and it is pretty nasty. It happens all over the Cape and it's a roll of the dice where the oilslick like black mass of crap is going to strike next. When it's really thick the waves don't crash on the shore, they more land with an ugly thud. Like someone hitting a big plastic bag of water with a bat. It has a faint smell to it, nothing crazy, you can only really smell it if it's really thick. Hearty New Englanders will brave the soup and swim in it. One friend of ours has even suggested that the mung soaks up the sun's heat and makes the water warmer. Interesting theory. I mean it does make some sense.

Anyway.

People may wonder why we live in such a place. Deathly cold winters. Barely there summers. Beaches that you have to pack a defibrillator to get to and from only to find out that the water looks like escarole soup that has been sitting out or 3 days.

My answer comes in the form of another cape experience. We were sitting at the Combah (the only beach bar on the cape...no really I'm not kidding it's the only one) and there was a couple from Montreal that kept asking us questions about the cape. They were surprised, and I think a little disappointed, that the beach was not built up. I think they were looking for Miami beach and got turned around at some point. They were intrigued. What do you do here? There 's nothing on the beach You can't stay at a waterfront hotel! What do you DO here?

I pointed them in the direction of P-Town and told them to explore the town centers. There are tons of galleries, shops and restaurant there. Our beaches are as nature intended them to be, condo and hi-rise free and the most peaceful place on Earth. The wonderful thing about it is that there is nothing. There is only something if you want there to be. The galleries and shops are where they should be, in town. The beaches are free of the modern world.

I challenge you to find another 43,000 acres of undisturbed beach. That's why we love it. I can't imagine living anywhere else.

I Fell Down and Alicia Got Married

2009-06-24T20:52:00.004-04:00

You wouldn't know it by all the attention I draw to myself with my big mouth and my online blithering, but being the focus of attention of a large group of people makes me want to pee my pants. The only part of my wedding I dreaded was the part most brides relish, the grand opening of the doors to reveal the bride in all her glory to the 100+ onlookers. All eyes on her. No thanks. I was totally freaking out on my wedding day about being the focal point of so many people. So when Alicia called and asked me to do a reading at her wedding I was humbled, touched, honored and terrified. I would never say no. I love my Alicia and I wanted to be close to her wedding and help in any way I could. So of course I said yes. I wanted to do it, I really did. But I knew the nerves would kick in. I'm glad I didn't know further in advance because I would have obsessed for longer than 10 days.

For the 10 days between the receipt of the poem and the wedding I looked at and recited the poem at least once a day. I practiced when I would breathe. I tried to memorize parts so I wasn't looking down the entire time. I practiced when to swallow so as not to let too much spit collect in my mouth (trickier than you might think!) The poem wasn't long but it contained words like "disdained" and "thine" and the ever feared "clasps." Go ahead, try to enunciate "clasps." It's a tough word!

The day of the wedding I was nervous. I recited the poem in the car on the way up to NH. Then a couple of times in the hotel room. To soothe my nerves my husband drew me a bath and made me some tea...uh ...not!!! To compound my nerves my husband revealed that he had forgotten his dress shoes at home (an hour away) and had to run to the mall to get a pair to wear to the wedding. Awesome.

When we arrived at the wedding my hubby, with his spankin' new kicks, dropped me and our friends that rode with us off close to the entrance. I stepped out of the car and right into a drainage ditch which, if you read with any regualrity, you will know is my one billionth time falling down while perfectly sober. There are two funny things about this fall:

One - I am geting so good at falling that I didn't hurt myself at all. My shoe is a bit scarred but I was remarkably unscathed.

Two - As soon as I fell my nerves calmed down dramtically. After I fell I was not as nervous. Weird.

As I sat in the chair and watched one of my best friends marry her one and only love it all became clear to me. I was so nervous because Alicia deserved perfection and I didn't want to ruin her day by flubbing up my lines, but the event was so moving, I began to worry I wouldn't be able to get through it without crying!

Well, I did it. I fought the nerves and nailed the poem. Even "clasps" came out as nicely as "clasps" can. I was so happy to be a part of the perfect day.

Alicia, if you asked me to I'd stand up in front of the world and have a zillion eyes on me.

But you'll have to supply the Depends.

I am Channeling Tippi

2009-06-18T14:41:00.005-04:00

I really do wish my lunch breaks were less exciting. Maybe the city of Boston is channeling my husband from Brighton and trying to prevent me from spending money? Whatever it is, it's starting to get annoying. Yesterday it was the ugly dress brigade and then today I'm attacked!

As a follow up to my last post, I must tell you that I found a great dress at the Alter Eco in Allston. A sweet little vintage looking 1950s style dress that looks pretty nice on me. Excellent.

Now for shoes. I needed a new pair of black pumps anyway as my old ones are no longer wearable. What a perfect excuse to shoe shop. Yay!! On my way to DSW I was walking down Washington St when someone stepped out of a side street and disturbed a pigeon and it flew up and straight into my head. It batted me with its wing and flew off.

First of all, it scared the bejesus out of me. All I could think about was Melanie Daniels getting out of her rowboat (that she was using to stalk Mitch Brenner) with a bloddy head. My head could look like that!! Or even going the way of poor Annie Hayworth. Avert your eyes Cathy! Avert your eyes!

Secondly, gross. City street pigeions are nasty, filthy, disgusting creatures. The fact that a grody 'ol street pigeon was that close to my face is unnerving.

Such is the life of a Downtown Crossing office worker. At any given moment you could be pooped on or hit or puked on...not to mention the crazy pigeons!

Oh and I found a pair of pumps at Marshalls.

Slacker

2009-06-17T10:24:00.004-04:00

Yes that is me. Slacker. I haven't posted since April? And that was a youtube video?

FAIL.

Anyway, enough self degradation. I mean, life has been pretty smooth lately. That is, until I attempted to find a dress for my friends wedding.

At the last minute, I was asked to do a reading for a good friend's wedding. This means I have to learn a poem well enough to not make an ass out of myself in 10 days. It also means I need to buy a dress. I mean I guess I don't need to buy a dress, I suppose I could get by on what I have, but I think it would be nice to buy a new dress for such a special occasion.

What in the blue blazin' hell has happened to dresses this season? I went everywhere and I can't find anything that isn't butt-ugly for less than $300! WTF? Don't these people know that there is a recession? I have to be in love with a dress to pay more than $150 for it. I went to Marshall's, TJMaxx, Macy's, H&M, Filene's Basement (who by the way had like 10 dresses in the whole store. It's June, people. Why are you out of dresses!?!?), Banana Republic, The Gap...I mean I have left very few stones unturned here. I found nice dresses but they either didn't have my size (is everyone on the planet a size 8??) or they were just WAY to pricey. Out of desparation I walked into Ann Taylor. I mean it's worth a try right?

Sigh. I walked in and the rack of dresses they had on the first floor were weird looking so I continued up to the second and third floors to no avail. As I decended the stairs the sales girl asked if she could help and I told her I was looking for a dress. She brought me over to the rack of weird looking dresses and said, "You should try on one of these."

I said, "They're weird looking."

She said, "They look great on, very flattering to the neckline."

OK I'll give her a chance. I mean I own a few dresses that looked rediculous on the hanger but once I had them on they were great. But this dress was sort of cone like, small at the top and flared at the bottom, sleveless with a very high neck and a ruffly collar. Not big ruffels. But big enough to have me call them "ruffles."

I tried on the dress and it looked exactly like I thought it would, like a cone shaped bag with a clown collar. Flattering to the neckline? I was so distracted by the clown collar I didn't even notice I had a neckline. And it was $130. Bwahahahaha!!

I'm running out of time and retail options. I should probably stop focusing on the dress and start learning the poem.

Ballroom Blitz

2009-04-17T08:27:00.000-04:00

New Blog

2009-03-25T14:19:00.003-04:00

Because I'm so active on this blog (ha ha) I have decided to start up a new one. The new blog is located here http://ourwalloffame.blogspot.com/ . Check back often to see what the family is capturing.

Skiing Adventure Part 2

2009-01-20T08:53:00.004-05:00

As an amendment to my first skiing adventure post I'd like to point out that I didn't actually sit in the bar all day and drink. I nursed two beers until the guys were sufficiently worn out then we went to dinner. Sitting at the bar and drinking all day is what people expect you to do if you are at a ski lodge and not skiing.

Sunday was a great skiing day if you are a very experienced skier and you have thighs made of granite. Neither of these descriptions fit me so I waited until Monday to really get my ski on. I knew the foot of snow that had fallen on Sunday would be groomed to perfection on Monday. We went to Black Mountain and I had the best ski day of my life. The snow was groomed and soft. We got there early so the first three runs were fresh tracks. There is nothing like tearing up flawless corduroy, it makes skiing almost effortless. You just glide down the mountain. Michael had ungroomed trails to ski so we were both in downhill heaven.

As the day progressed, though, the snow started getting softer from the sun and skied up to the point where it became work again and my thighs were protesting. Sunday's shenanigans had really taxed my out of shape thighs so any effort put into skiing on Monday was really painful so I started being lazy on the straight-aways and not so steep parts of the mountain. It was during one of these lazy points when a little red squirrel ran right out in front of me. He was so close to my blades! I swerved to avoid him and he darted back the other way and I had to cut back again. It's a wonder I didn't hit a tree.

Swerving to avoid a squirrel in a car is one thing. Maybe hitting the squirrel insted of causing a head on collision is a good idea but can you imagine running over a squirrel in skis? I think picking little bits of squirrel out of the bindings of my blades would have pushed me right over the edge. Therapy would have been necessary. Michael suggested that, since the snow was so soft, if I had hit him I may have just pushed the squirrel down into the snow and just skied right over him and he'd have been fine. I think physics may have something to say about that.

Between dodging hari kari squrrels and giant mounds of softening snow falling out of the trees (I narrowly avoided that too) it's a miricle I survived Monday's ski adventure.

Skiing Adventure Part 1

2009-01-19T21:10:00.001-05:00

This weekend we went to New Hampshire to hang out with friends and to, once again, revisit the place where we got married. I can’t get enough of the Shovel Handle! As it happens we also did a little skiing.

A few years ago I made the switch from skis to skiboards (or blades, as I like to call them because I’m extremely hip). They are much easier on the knees and…well, just easier all around actually. You can turn and stop on a dime, I always feel in control and they are so much lighter and less of a pain to carry around. Since I have made the switch I have been exclusively on the blades, foregoing actual skis entirely. This has never been a problem at all since I live and ski in New England where powder days are about as rare as beach days. The blades have usually been kind to me but this Sunday we decided to ski in the middle of a snowstorm. The powder was too thick and too deep. I was miserable on the blades. I took one run and that was that, I had a decision to make. I could either go to the bar and drink for the rest of the day or I could man up and rent skis and have fun like everyone else.

Crap it’s only 10:30am. Bar is closed. Off to the rental shop.

Armed with my husband’s wallet (I’d left mine at the house) and an uncharacteristic spurt of courage, I de-bladed and clomped into the rental shop. The rental shop guys thought I was a total nut case. First off, I only had my husband’s wallet which means that I only had his photo ID. They were nice enough to let that slide. Then there was the poor chap that had to listen to me asking for the shortest skis possible since I’ve been on blades for the last five years and I’m freaked out about getting back into skis. He said, “If I give you too short skis you’ll have the same problem you are having with your blades.” Shush with your logic, rental shop man. He gave me 140s and some poles and sent me on my way. “Don’t break your neck, little lady.”

Michael and Steve are the best skiers I know. In fact, my friend Steve taught me how to ski. They could ski in any sort of conditions so they were taking a run while I was manning up and renting skis. There was no way I was skiing the trails they were on my first day on skis in five years so I looked at a map and decided to head up to the “wild kitten” trail to test my legs. I carried the heavy skis up the hill to the lift and headed up the mountain, on the slowest lift in recorded history, in a snowstorm, first time in skis in a half a decade, by myself. Good times were certain to follow.

I have been on the “wild kitten” before. Hardly anyone goes over there because once you get off the lift (which by the way went pretty smoothly) you have to traverse over to a tunnel (a tunnel that has snow in it which has always mystified me) and then traverse for what seems like a mile over to the easiest trail on the mountain. This was hard in heavy skis and in all that crazy powder, but I persevered and finally got to the down hill part of the trail. Shockingly, I was actually staying upright…sort of. Not only that, I was staying in control, somewhat. I was certainly not going to be hitting any black diamonds but I was doing ok. The snow was so deep there was no sound from the skis on the snow at all. It was showing hard and there was no one on the trail. It was mine to enjoy.

I thought, “Wow, this is so beautiful and peaceful.”

Then I thought, “Wow, I could totally fall and die out here and no one would find me until May.”

I skied the rest of the way down and made remarkable progress with my control. By my final run of the day (which was only two after that one, New England powder is exhausting stuff) I was executing tight little turns and handling the piles of powder with ease. It felt great to be back on skis!

Then I went to the lodge to drink for the rest of the day. Best of both worlds.

NESHDRs

2009-01-13T19:15:00.002-05:00

Once a year or so I visit my family in Florida and I drag my husband along. This year my mom scheduled her annual chili cook off while we were there. Yum! She informed me that my dad (yes my mom and step-dad invite my dad and step-mom to their parties and vice versa. Very adult of them, wouldn’t you say?) has been commissioned to bring the hot dogs, presumably for chili dogs. I said, “Oh I’ll bring the rolls.”

New England Style Hot Dog Rolls are the sort that have flat sides for toasting or grilling or what not. Living in Boston I take the presence of these on my supermarket shelves for granted. Can you imagine a lobster roll on anything but a bun you can butter up and grill? Or never having the option for a toasted or grilled roll for your hot dog? Well, welcome to Florida. The land of sunshine, warm weather and rounded hot dog rolls. My dad has always made it perfectly clear that the NESHDRs are unattainable in Florida. When I said I’d bring the NESHDRs from Boston I could practically hear my parents drooling over the phone. My mom actually mentioned it twice to my sister in one day. Sure I’ll bring the rolls. I mean, how hard could it be to transport exceptionally soft white bread products in an airplane, right?

The day of the flight came and Michael had gotten the rolls the day before. I packed the rolls, as my friend Courtney advised, in the top of a canvas bag and planned to carry them on the plane with me. My plan was to store them under the seat in front of me.

Earlier in the week, I’d sent an email to my dad and step dad with my flight info and my step dad emailed me back saying “Hey you’re in first class! Have a Manhattan for me.” Well our flight was at 7:45am and a Manhattan at that hour is a bit boozy, even for me. I was surprised to learn that we were in first class. It wasn’t something that we asked for. We weren't scheduled to be in first class on the way back to Boston. We certainly didn’t use enough miles to be in first class. It’s a mystery, a very comfy mystery.

The bad thing about being in row 1 on a plane is that there is no seat in front of you and you have to store all of your carry-ons and personal items in the overhead bin. No chance I was putting the precious cargo in the overhead bin. The rolls had already survived being carried through the airport by a man whose boarding pass looked like it had been chewed by a lama after ten minutes (seriously how did he mess that thing up so badly in 10 minutes?), no way was I chancing the overhead bin and it’s contents that may shift during flight. The flight attendant was kind enough to put the bag in the closet at the front of the plane, albeit with some funny looks.

We arrived in FLA on Friday and the chili cookout was scheduled for Saturday night. I love that my parents can schedule a cookout for the 10^th of January and not have to worry about potential snow or sub zero temperatures. In fact they were concerned that temperatures would drop to under 65 degrees that night, which would have prompted my parents and their friends to don their winter coats and my sister to actually put on socks.

The rolls made it from the plane to the rental car, to my dad’s pantry, to my mom’s cookout with minimal crushing and no signs of staleness at all. When I brought them into the kitchen my mom broke them apart and put them into a bowl and took them out to the grill for toasting. Buttering each roll seemed absurd as there were thirty-two of them. The bowl came back into the house as quickly as it left, “The grill is full. You’ll have to butter them and cook them on the griddle or else they get eaten as is.”

I did not bring 4 packages of NESHDRs 1,500 miles to have them eaten raw. So, dear readers, I buttered and griddled the crap out of those NESHDRs, all 32 of them. My grandma sat and watched me from the kitchen table and asked, “Are you cooking the rolls?” When I was done and I set them on the buffet table you would have thought I had walked a unicorn in on a leash.
“What are these?”
“Well, I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Did you cook these?”

Suffice to say that the rolls were a big hit, gone in mere minutes. I think I saw my dad knock over old ladies and small children to get to the plate of rolls. But the joy of introducing Floridians to a delicacy such as the NESHDR comes with a heavy price. I will never again be able to board a Tampa bound plane without NESHDRs in my canvas carry on.

Hint Hint

2009-01-07T19:56:00.000-05:00

I went to have my nails done at Brighton Nails in Oak Square after work. Like most places the nail salon is run and attended to by Vietnamese women and as always there was a Buddha shrine in the salon. These little shrines always have a cup of rice and a bowl of water for an offering. Sometimes you'll see fresh fruit or veggies there as well. Today my nail techs were offering the Buddha Weight Watchers brownies. A full box of them, sitting there as pretty as you please in front of the Buddha shrine. I didn't snap a pic of this because 1) it seemed disrespectful and 2) I had forgotten my phone at home and was cameraless. That'll teach me.

Miracle Pants or I Got Splashed By a Cab

2009-01-07T14:43:00.000-05:00

Running errands at lunch is always stressful. Trying to squeeze an otherwise enjoyable shopping experience into an hour long, nerve wracking blitz is never fun. Today I had an additional time line other than my hour lunch allotment. I'm leaving for FLA on Friday and I'm nearly out of foundation and moisturizer, both of which cannot be found in Spring Hill. In fact I don't think they sell anything other than St. Ives and Maybelline in Spring Hill and since I've developed this annoying sensitive skin issue I can't cheap out anymore, though I'd really like to spend less than $36 for a tiny thing of moisturizer. But I digress.

Since I have to be a facial product snob now I need to go to Sephora and get the things I need. Sephora is in the Pru Mall and I work the Financial District in downtown Boston. I got on the green line and headed off to run the obstacle course of the Pru at lunchtime. I needed foundation, moisturizer and to return a shirt to the GAP. Eyes on the prize. In and out. No funny business.

But Victoria's Secret was having their Semi Annual sale.

First things first.
Return the shirt to the GAP.
Get moisturizer.
Hit the VS sale.
Head all the way over to the other side of the mall to get the foundation.
Get back on the green line and go back to work.
All in one hour. Yeah right.

I was actually making pretty good time and got everything I needed. VS was the biggest bag I had and it was the cheesey paper bag they give you when you shop at the semi-annual sale not the nice shiny shopping bag for their "regular" customers who pay full price. They crammed all of the nice new, on sale bras and undies into the paper bag and sent me on my cheap girl way. I tried to condense the bags from the other stores in there as well which made for a cheap paper bag busting at the seams.

I speed walked through the mall in my Sorels (which must have been quite a sight) and headed out the mall door toward the Copley T station. As I waited on the middle-of-the-road island to cross the street a cab trying to make the changing light barrelled past and caused the ocean of a puddle of salty slush in front of me to slosh up and take up new residence on my pants. I must admit I let out a yell as it was happening. I saw it coming but too late to move out of the way.

My first thought was, "I wish I had superpowers so I could fly after that cab and pull the driver out and bludgeon him."
My second thought was, "Thank god I'm wearing my miracle pants."

I always wear my miracle pants when it rains. They are a light weight Geoffrey Beene Poly/Rayon/Spandex blend that dry remarkably fast. But wet pants were the least of my worries.

As I got on the T I noticed that my VS cheap paper bag, that branded me as a sale shopper, was wet. Had it been their nice regular bag it would have resisted the water but this one just sucked it right up and threatened to bust through the bottom, spilling my new bras and panties for all the world to see. I grasped the over stuffed, damp paper bag from the bottom and the sides and willed it to stay together until I reached the office. It did.

With my tattered bag and my wet pants I walked back into the office 20 min late from my lunch "hour." I dried my pants under the "excellerator" in the ladies room.

Shopping trip successful. Wet and cold, but successful.

My Cat is Crazier Than Your Cat.

2009-01-06T20:31:00.000-05:00

About a week ago my husband informed me that there was a creepy-crawly in the kitchen under the boot tray. By creepy-crawly I mean a House Centipede which looks like this:

If you have never encountered one of these, count yourself lucky. They don't bite or sting. They aren't even especially large but they are about the creepiest things you'll ever see. When I came into the kitchen our cat, Miss. America, was pawing at the boot tray, trying to get the invader. We assumed she apprehended said creepy-crawly because it disappeared. Good riddance. Those friggin things give me the jeebs.

Every day since then Miss. America has been holding vigil at the boot tray. She sits and stares for hours on end at the boot tray and water dish. As I write this she is sitting next to me with an unwavering stare. It's creepy. Almost as creepy as the creepy-crawly. It has gotten to the point that I think our other cat, The Fozz, is dehydrated because she's blocking the downstairs water bowl. There is a water bowl upstairs as well but he's partial to the one downstairs for some weird reason. Same exact bowl. Same exact water. It's just on a different floor and he likes the downstairs water better.

I feel that I have to go into the kitty history a bit here. The Fozz and Miss. America are siblings, feral cats that were rescued from under a friends porch in Somerville. The Fozz seems to have come through the experience ok. He's sociable and pretty chill. He hangs out when guests are here and people marvel at his impressive girth (he's 18lbs of gray feline) and laugh when they watch him try to get through the cat door that seems impossibly small for a cat his size. The Fozz is our normal cat.

Miss. America is the crazy one.

Our friends don't believe that we have two cats because they only see The Fozz. Miss. America stays hidden when we have company. So far she will only show her face for me, my husband and my sons. That's it. When we are around she is a total attention hog. She will relentlessly head-but our hands so we'll pet her to the point that after a half hour of constant petting we have to sit on our hands to get her to go away.

But now all she does is sit by the boot tray, watching, waiting, poised for the attack.

Our neighbors cat is on Prozac. Perhaps that is the answer.

The Fozz

Miss. America holding vigil.

London Calling! Christmas Entry 2008

2008-12-24T09:03:00.000-05:00

Hello! I know you all missed me. I took a bit of a break from the blog after the honeymoon. After the adventures in Europe, life in Boston seemed a bit boring. Not much to write about. But now I'm back at it in grand style!

First, I'd like to tell you that I finally have a friend that is from the UK who has made it into my cell phone. I can, at long last, assign London Calling by the Clash to a number in my cell phone and have it make sense! Thanks Steve!! I have been waiting a long time to do that.

Last night I played trivia. Poorly I might add. It was not one of my finest showings. One of the questions that was asked was: What children's game was designed in the 1940s by Eleanor Abbott, while she was recovering from polio? Answer: Candyland.

Of course, being the genius I am, I over-thought the whole thing and reasoned that the girl is recovering from polio so she is probably dreaming about the things she can't do because of her condition. Things like climbing up ladders and sliding down chutes. Thus my answer (my wrong answer) Chutes and Ladders.

That is when my UK buddy, Steve, said to me; "Oh you mean it's not Snakes and Ladders here?"

"Snakes?!?! You have your children slide down snakes?"

I remember playing Chutes and Ladders as a child. It's bad enough that when you get to a chute you have to go back and cover ground you had already worked so hard to get through. Especially that really big one that went from all the way from box 87 to box 24. Childhood devastation was the big chute! But to add to the trauma of certain board game defeat by having to slide down a snake? What are those UKers thinking?

See for yourself.

Here's the game I remember.

Now here is a version of Snakes and Ladders that I found online.

Look at the one at the bottom bearing his teeth! Good heavens!

To all of you last minute Christmas shoppers out there especially in the UK, please steer clear of the game that involves sliding into the jaws of a snake.

And my Christmas wish to you all...May your holiday season be all ladders that go from box 28 to box 84! Happy Holidays!!

Tunisia

2008-11-09T04:57:00.000-05:00

We are at our last port and two hours from now we will be shoving off for our last day of our vacation. I know I’ll be leaving for home with mixed feelings. I will look forward to living in my home again. This little cabin is pretty confining and the shower is teeny tiny. I’ll miss waking up in a new city every day and the feeling that there is a new adventure lying ahead. I will not miss dressing for dinner every night. What a pain.

Tunis was interesting but slightly disappointing. Our tour guide was a long winded idiot. He gave information that should have taken 10 minutes in 3 hours. He just kept repeating himself over and over and pausing for dramatic effect in between every other word. We did see some amazing things like the place where they did human sacrifices and aqueducts that were remarkably well preserved. Too bad the crappy tour didn’t actually stop at the aqueducts so I couldn’t get a picture. Grrr. Oh and the locals chucked rocks at us as we were leaving. I don’t recommend Tunisia.

We came back to the boat, took a soak in the hot tub and decided to nap. In doing so I kicked the camera off the bed and broke my lens. It still works but the zoom is acting really funny. I can’t believe it. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! Grrr.

I am sad to be leaving and getting back to reality but part of me is ready. I miss all of you! We’ll see you soon!

Oh, and Michael rode a camel.

The Snowman

2008-11-07T11:54:00.001-05:00

Malta

2008-11-07T10:48:00.000-05:00

We’re in Malta and the weather has finally broken and it turned out to be a beautiful day! I’m sitting on our veranda snacking on spicy, garlicky olives as I write this and my super awesome husband is off getting me a pina colada. Our ports were amazing rain or shine and we had a really great time in all of them so far but at times we were making the best of it, especially in Pompei, and that’s just not how you want to be feeling on vacation.

Ah yes now I have the pina colada and am properly inspired.

Up until today we have been shaken out of bed every morning as we dock by the ships engines. I’m not sure why they are more powerful as we dock, but like clockwork at 6:30am our room feels like it’s suffering from an earthquake. One morning it was so violent it shook my water glass right off the bedside table and sent it crashing to the floor. This morning was the first that we were able to sleep past 7:30 (the day we were at sea we did too but we were all prepared to sleep till like 10 or so when they made a public announcement bong bong get up and see mount Etna on the starboard side. Grrrr. Happy to see Etna but man we really needed to sleep in) since we were tugged in to Valetta.

We went through the Messina strait yesterday and it is really something to see. I didn’t have a clue that a) Italy and Sicily were so close together and b) that Sicily was so flipping big. We could see it all night on our trip and on a clear day you can actually see it from the north side of Malta. After spending some time on the very windy deck to take pics of the strait we headed down for our spa treatments. It was the second best spa treatment of my life (Costa Rica wins that contest every time hands down.) I got a seaweed wrap and half body massage. Michael got a full body massage. We were like jello afterward.

Today was Malta and we went to Mdina via open bus and had a look around. Very interesting city. We had a pizza and baguette for lunch (I love the way Europeans eat) and then headed back to the boat. It was an especially short day at this port. It’s 4pm now and the boat is ready for departure. Malta is very nice but it is really hard to follow up Rome and Pompei . There is just no comparison. Even in the rain those two ports blew me away. Tomorrow is Tunisia and we have a tour booked to go to Carthage. I think it’s a half day tour which is good because I would really like to at least swim in the Mediterranean Sea once on this trip. It’s just been too cold and miserable to even consider it. Malta was sunny but still a bit too cool to go for a swim with no towels to warm us after the dip.

We have found people to hang out with which was no small task since 80% of this boat is 80 years of age or better. Michael and I were invited to a special cocktail reception at 11:30am (weird time) for honeymooners and guests celebrating their anniversary. There were very few honeymooners and most of the couples were celebrating their 50th anniversary.
Our niche is the martini bar. It’s frosted over by a refrigeration unit and creates “snow” on the bar. So, of course we made a snowman. We went there initially because the music is tolerable and the atmosphere is relaxing. We met a really nice gay couple from Los Angeles and now we have dinner with them since the couple next to their old table kept flashing them death looks. We see them ever night at the martini bar at 7pm on the dot. After a few nights we read our daily information paper and turns out 7pm at the Martini Bar is “Friends of Dorothy” hour. I really think that a majority of the passengers on the boat have no clue what that even means.

Our “Isaac” is actually named Jonny. He is quite nice.

One more port and one day at sea and this is all over. See you all soon!

Ciao, Beautiful Orange Hat

2008-11-06T12:39:00.000-05:00

On our tour to Pompei our tour guide was a real character. He was cracking us up at every turn (and trust me the road to the top of Vesuvius has a lot of turns). He was almost offensive but he rode the edge well and had everyone in stitches. At the end of the tour we were stuck with a 50 euro note, too much for a tip, and a few coins, not nearly enough. At the end of the tour the guide came up to Michael and said “I really a-like your beautiful hat.”
Problemo solved. Tip covered. Now we just have to find Michael a new hat!

Old Owner Of Beautiful Orange Hat

New Owner Of Beautiful Orange Hat

Italy

2008-11-06T11:59:00.000-05:00

The fact that everyone on the bus survived the trip to Rome is a miracle. There were injuries and breakdowns and…well, I’m getting ahead of myself.
We started the day at 7am and headed down with the rest of the drones to the theatre to meet for our respective tours and excursions. I should have known the day was going to go south when I couldn’t have tea and the coffee was foul. How can this boat go to places with such astoundingly great coffee and serve absolute swill on board? We left Civitavechia and headed for Rome. It was about a 2 hour ride and our guide was great. He told us great little secrets like how to get a ticket to the Coloseum without waiting in line and how not to get ripped off at every turn. We went to St Peter’s Square and into the basilica. It was totally overwhelming. It’s so huge and built with so much marble that it’s a wonder it doesn’t just sink into the ground from all the weight of it. We had a great little Panini near the square and grabbed a cab to the Coloseum, took a look at that area and walked back stopping at the Pantheon and a few other spots. We filled our water bottle all day with the water that flows out of the spigots all over the city. When we met up for the bus ride back we ran into some trouble. To get to the bus you had to go up two escalators. One of the “up” escalators was broken and we had a woman on the tour that was unable to do more than a few stairs. We ended up sitting in Rome traffic in an intense thunderstorm for 30 minutes to circle back around to stop again to collect her. Once we got on the highway it was smooth sailing until the bus broke down and we had to sit on the side of the highway for an hour and wait for another bus. To transfer from the broken bus to the working one we had to walk in the dark and rain on a ledge about 2 to 2 1/2 feet wide overlooking a 3 foot deep and 5 foot wide cement ditch. Of course an old woman fell in the ditch and we watched it happen. She said she was fine afterward but I don’t know how she was. It was a really big fall and it was traumatic to her and everyone watching.
Italy in general is completely amazing. I live in Boston and Americans consider my city rich with history. One of our tour guides lives in a house that is older than Boston. Seeing structures that have been around for 2,000 years really puts things in perspective. Pompei was so much bigger than I thought. Things are so well preserved that it’s eerie to be in there looking around. To think that it was a thriving town 2,000 years ago is surreal.
It is very interesting and entertaining to be in Europe for our presidential election. Every person we have spoken to from Spain to Italy has been holding their breath hoping for an Obama win. What’s happening in the US right now affects the entire world and we have spoken to dozens of Europeans that are elated that Obama won. One of the tour guides was so happy about the win he actually kissed an American girl on the tour!! It’s really something to see. I’m glad we were here for it!

Days 3 & 4

2008-11-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

All right, night 2 on the ship was way better than night one. Dinner was much better. I had an oysters Rockefeller appetizer and it was fabulous. The spinach in my salad was actually fresh (the first night’s dinner included a Cesar salad that was so wilted and brown neither of us ate it). There is no bar with decent music so we’ll just have to suck it up. The band is ok and watching the old folks dance is fun. Michael and I have our own little version of dancing with the stars going on. We judge the winner after every song. There is no chance of us getting up and dancing. These couples look like they have been dancing together for 30 years. They are flawless. Michael and I would be contaminating their dance floor.
The Marsailles port was fabulous. We took a tour of the countryside and visited a few little villages. The rain held out, thankfully, and we had cloudy and very windy conditions. It was a rough day for us though seeing that we had been up since 3:15 (see previous posting) so we were both practically falling asleep on the bus. We had lunch in a café in one of the villages and it was delicious indeed. I had a baguette with pate. That was it. No lettuce or tomato or anything just baguette with pate and it was ridiculously tasty. We also got a plate of cheese knocked our socks off. The food in the ports has been amazing so far. The food on board is really inconsistent. It is either unbelievably delicious, like last nights dinner, or entirely inedible like today’s lunch.
The Nice stop on the cruise actually was Villefranche and not Nice at all. We were frustratingly close to Cannes, Nice and Monaco and didn’t get to see them. We are actually tendered here so we boarded a smaller boat and headed into town. We purchased a train ticket to Monaco a 15 minute ride for 5 euro each round trip. The next train was 40 minutes from leaving so we had a coffee at a nearby café and then went back up to the platform where we were informed that the train would be delayed at least 30 minutes or it may be cancelled altogether. We got a refund and decided to take a taxi. I mean, it can’t be that expensive for a taxi if it’s only 15 minutes train ride away right? Wrong. 60 euro each way to get to Monaco. OK so we’ll skip Monaco (bummer) and go to Nice on the bus. When we finally found the bus stop we discovered that the entirety of the 3 tendered cruise ships had also discovered the bus stop and the already full bus that pulled up was only going to fit a few of the giant waiting crowd. If I wanted to stuff myself into a bus to head into town I’d have stayed in Boston. So we walked around Villefranche, which was really picturesque and pleasant, for a couple of hours had a sandwich that kinda tasted like feet and got back on the ship and sat in the Jacuzzi and napped. It actually turned out to be a great day even though we didn’t get to see the port fully.
Traveling from town to the tendered ship in this port was a bit of an adventure. We traveled back in one of the ships lifeboats (good to know they work) and the crew had a hard time getting us next to the ship. It was so windy that when the attendant tried to throw the rope off of the ship onto the lifeboat the crew member missed the rope entirely because the wind blew it out of his reach. We then had to circle back around and make the approach again. The seas are pretty rough and the lifeboat captain crashed into the ship a couple of times before getting it right. It was slightly unsettling.
I’m posting a few pics here but the internet is charged per minute and the pics are slow to upload. I’ll see what I can do about reducing the size of more if I have time but it’s turning out to be one full day after another. I think the days at sea will be more productive with blogging and photo maintenance.

Days One and Two

2008-11-01T00:42:00.000-04:00

Well here we are. At sea. It’s 4am right now and we are both awake. Michael thinks it’s the time difference but I think it’s the constant creaking and listing back and forth.

Our journey here was smooth and relatively uneventful. The Paris airport is quite the feat of architecture and it is huge. We arrived at gate E2 and had to depart from F2 so you would think it would be a short little jaunt from one to the other. Nope. It took us a good 15 minutes to walk to the next gate and that was with the people movers speeding us along. It’s just massive! At the Paris airport I experienced my first rude French person. He was standing behind me trying to get through a huge crowd of people to see the TV monitors indicating the locations of gates and flights. He let off about 5 or 6 rapid fire “excuse me’s”

Excuse me.
Excuse me.
Excuse me.
Excuse me.
Excuse me.

In order to get out of his way I had to move into the way of other people (that said excuse me only once) so I looked back at him and said “I’m trying!”
He said “you’re trying?”

I got out of his way and into the way of the other people because, clearly, he was vastly more important.

Barcelona was completely amazing. I love it. There are crazy tiny little streets that cars actually travel on. You have to press yourself into a doorway to avoid being hit! We arrived at the hotel at 11:30 starving which was unfortunate for us because it was too early to check in and just try getting food at 11:30 in Barcelona. Apparently it’s an uncivilized time to eat. We did find a place and had some of the famous cured ham and sausage and white beans. Very nice.

Then we hopped on a tour bus. It would have been fun to explore the city without getting on a tour bus but when you have on day and a big list of things you want to see it’s totally the way to go. We saw the unfinished Sagrada Familia and it was pretty much worth the trip to Barcelona in itself. When it’s finished (if it’s finished) it will be even more spectacular. It is an absolute mammoth; this giant work of art in the middle of a functioning area of the city. Across the street are regular looking apartment buildings and shops, then you turn around and BAM you are in the shadow of this enormous structure. Sandra (the awesome lady at the hotel) made a great point. How did they build an entire Olympic village in a just a couple of years and it’s taken over a hundred years to halfway build a church. At 10 euro a pop for a tour it isn’t the money. Yes, it’s not just a building it’s art, but seriously. Finish it already. God is waiting. We also saw the Park Guell and got a pretty good feel for the city from the top of the double-decker.

Our one and only dinner on land was in Barcelona and I am convinced it was prepared by angles or fairies or something but no human can make something this good. I have the philosophy that when you are abroad you should a) always at least try the local cuisine and b) order simple food as it is often the best. I had pasta sauted with shrimp and it was the best pasta I have ever had, bar none. It was home made and the pasta and shrimp were tossed together in a highly heated pan so that parts of the pasta were crisped, almost toasted. Michael had steak, I know shocking right? Actually, yes it was a bit shocking. They didn’t ask how he wanted it prepared so he got it practically raw. Now, I like my meat medium rare but this was even too rare for me. Michael likes his meat cooked medium well so this was highly irregular for him. The meat was of such high quality that the rareness of it was not a factor even for Michael. He ate all but 2 bites, and he left those because he was full. Jenny and Dave would be proud!

Luckily our first day in Barcelona was nice because we got up the next morning and it was pouring. We got breakfast and walked around some then got lunch and walked around some more.

Then we got on the boat.

I have some things to say to the people that told me the following:

“Oh, you can’t even feel the motion you won’t even be able to tell you are on a boat.” – Okay, whoever said this must have been on a way bigger boat then we’re on because I can barely walk down the hallway without slamming into the walls. Michael says “If we can make it through the vacation without puking, we win.” Ah, a sexy honeymoon indeed.

“There is so much to do on the boat you won’t mind the days at sea and you may want to stay on the boat while you are at a port to have the ship to yourselves” – Now, granted we have only had one evening on the boat and we haven’t explored fully but 2 of the 3 bars we visited were playing an “It’s Raining Men/I Will Survive” medley. Not kidding. We have a few more bars to check out and I’m sure we’ll find our niche, but for now this is a means of transportation and nothing more. Bring on the ports, for the love of pete.

“You’ll gain weight the food is so good on the ship” – So far, not so. Dinner was very nice and the food was good but not that good and compared to the dinner in Barcelona it was not even close. You can’t even compare the two. Cruise ship food is clearly made by mortal men. Oh, and we requested a table for two months ago and didn’t get it. Apparently, there are 94 people waiting for a table for two so we are at a table for 4 with another couple that didn’t show up for diner last night, thank god.

I think different people have different versions of fun. Michael and I really just like to be left to our own devices, left alone really, so I don’t think that the cruise ship is our ideal vacation and we sorta knew that coming into it. Try everything once right? How else can you see all these cities? We were asked so many times if we wanted our picture taken that even if we had agreed to it a reasonable amount of times (like 2 or 3) we still would have been hounded 5 more times. The waiters asked us if we wanted more drinks so frequently that we were tempted to make a sign that said “No Thanks” and put it on the table. There were 5 or 6 waiters working the room and no assigned sections so every waiter that walked by asked if we wanted a drink. It was like being beaten up. At first I thought “wow great service” but, it went from great service to hard sell in a matter of minutes.

I don’t mean to be negative and I am sure this will get better and the ports are going to be amazing even if it does pour the entire time, which it’s supposed to. I am having fun! Michael and I are having a great time people watching, that’s for sure. Marsaillles is our first port and I can’t wait! We’ll be going to the Luberon villages in the countryside. Sounds great for photos! Hopefully tomorrow night is a better cruise experience. It’s formal night for dinner so I get to dress up.

OMG the friggin boat just shook like it went over a speed bump at 50mph. Sleep? Yeah right!

Honeymoon Fever

2008-10-22T21:54:00.000-04:00

Cruise

Well it's finally here. We planned this so long ago that I'm really unsure how to handle it being so close. The cruise, the honeymoon, the (as Michael calls it) mother of all vacations, is finally here. One week from this moment we will be in the air over the Atlantic Ocean heading to Barcelona. I bought a nice camera to document the sights and I'll be bringing the computer with me so that I can post (and store) pictures and blog about our adventures. Actually, that's a lie. I'm bringing the computer so that Michael can keep up with his email and send trivia.

But, I will be writing about our trip and depending on how things go my musings may find their way onto this blog. Stay tuned for pics and wit.

Also, cross your fingers that I'm not still sick. I'm feeling under the weather right now. Not good.

Hey Sarah Palin!!!!!

2008-10-17T13:08:00.001-04:00

What?? Is McCain off his rocker?

2008-10-15T22:23:00.000-04:00

Did McCain really just suggest that soldiers coming home from Iraq should jump into teaching jobs straight off the battle lines with no certifications? Yes he did. I can't believe Obama didn't jump on that one. Our troops are brave and deserve our support but fighting in a war doesn't make you qualified to teach impressionable children. Will they have any psychological testing? Will they have to have a college education?

McCain's poise tonight was remarkably un-presidential. His demeanor after the debate while he was walking around on stage was un-presidential. I'd go so far as to call him unproffesional! I'm reminded of a certain inhuman scream four years ago...