I'm tired after a full day on the computer, and more tired because I feel like I'm fighting off a cold, but I wanted to take a moment to wish y'all a Happy Thanksgiving.
This is easily my favorite holiday of the year - totally centered around food, and no gift-giving involved - and it wouldn't be a proper Thanksgiving without my mom's traditional menu. Of course, being my mother, the traditional menu includes a couple non-traditional items and our traditional Thanksgiving meal is eaten on either Friday or Saturday of the holiday weekend rather than the actual holiday itself. I can't even remember when that started, but it seems so normal to me now I don't even realize it sounds odd when I tell other people. This year, our Thanksgiving will be on Friday, which means Chris & I get most of Thursday at home to relax (sans workload for me, at least) and do a few chores that have been waiting to get done before heading to my mom's on Friday morning. I'm looking forward to that extra day of rest for many reasons, not least of which that the big BootsnAll holiday party is the following weekend and I'm quite certain I'm going to be bloody exhausted after that.
Also on the schedule this holiday weekend is something unusual even for my kooky family - a football game. Yes, some people always plop down in front of the TV on Thanksgiving to watch whatever football game is on, but this year the annual "civil war" between Oregon State and the University of Oregon is being played in Corvallis (not far from where my mom lives) and one of her coworkers (whose husband works at OSU) managed to get us all tickets to one of the "luxury" boxes for the game. I'm not a fan of American football, but the whole gang is going. And, as my mother points out, on the luxury level there's food and a full bar. So at least I'll be well-fed and kept slightly buzzed. And in a weird twist of fate, it turns out the game is actually a big deal this year, as it could determine whether the Beavers go to a bowl game. (Don't ask me more than that, because I don't know and also don't care about further details.) I'll be wearing my warmest holiday coat and my favorite scarf, which just happen to be black and orange respectively, so I'll look the part of an OSU fan even if I don't have a clue what's going on.
At any rate, I do hope you all have a wonderful holiday weekend wherever you are!
25 November 2008
02 November 2008
Backing Away from the Edge
I'm sorry, I know I've been a little quiet lately; there are a couple reasons for that. First, the whole thing with my friend's sister, who died on Monday, October 13th, brought up all kinds of memories of my dad's death. It's amazing to me how one encounter with mortality blends so seamlessly into another, so that one death makes you think of every other death you've experienced. And then, of course, it's a compounding emotion, with each sadness building upon the last one; I can only hope that at some point one gets to a zen-like state about it - otherwise, every death will eventually bring me to my knees.
Another reason for my absence has been that for a few weeks recently I was sort of pulling double-duty at work. One of my colleagues was traveling in Europe for just over five weeks, and although he was in touch fairly regularly, he was also extremely busy doing research and his internet connections turned out to be spottier than he'd anticipated. So, I was trying to not only keep up with my own normal workload but also many of his day-to-day responsibilities as well. Needless to say, I was working a lot. I worked late just about every night, and worked just about every weekend for a month or so. I knew it was temporary, so I just kept doing it, and didn't bother to say anything to my bosses - which was a mistake. I finally mentioned it last week, and they were more than sympathetic. My colleague is back from his trip now, and has re-claimed his old duties, and another project that had been queued up for me has been assigned to another colleague - so I'm feeling much more sane about my workload now.
In other words, I think I've reclaimed my life from the stress I felt last month, and I couldn't be more pleased about that.
While I was under that stress, however, somehow it turned into November. I can not believe it's November already. I don't know how that happened. There are, what, three weeks until Thanksgiving now? And then another month until Christmas? Seriously, I don't know where this year has gone, and time is showing no signs of slowing down...
In other news, I got my second portrait tattoo yesterday. It's a portrait of my mom, to go with the one I got of my dad in August. It's still healing, and is still red and puffy at the moment, but Chris tells me it looks great. I'll post pictures eventually when it's less pained looking. And although I'm going to have to wait until my bank account is a little more replenished after these last two tattoos, I'm already plotting for where the next ink will go. Here's a hint - if you prefer my arms as they are, you'll want to get a photograph of them before I next go under the needle.
Finally, I can't be typing a blog post on November 2nd of an election year without saying this:
Vote for hope, vote for change, vote to re-establish America's reputation in the world, vote for a new direction, vote for sound judgment, vote for inclusion, vote for anything's possible, vote for the dream of a new generation. In other words, VOTE FOR OBAMA.
Another reason for my absence has been that for a few weeks recently I was sort of pulling double-duty at work. One of my colleagues was traveling in Europe for just over five weeks, and although he was in touch fairly regularly, he was also extremely busy doing research and his internet connections turned out to be spottier than he'd anticipated. So, I was trying to not only keep up with my own normal workload but also many of his day-to-day responsibilities as well. Needless to say, I was working a lot. I worked late just about every night, and worked just about every weekend for a month or so. I knew it was temporary, so I just kept doing it, and didn't bother to say anything to my bosses - which was a mistake. I finally mentioned it last week, and they were more than sympathetic. My colleague is back from his trip now, and has re-claimed his old duties, and another project that had been queued up for me has been assigned to another colleague - so I'm feeling much more sane about my workload now.
In other words, I think I've reclaimed my life from the stress I felt last month, and I couldn't be more pleased about that.
While I was under that stress, however, somehow it turned into November. I can not believe it's November already. I don't know how that happened. There are, what, three weeks until Thanksgiving now? And then another month until Christmas? Seriously, I don't know where this year has gone, and time is showing no signs of slowing down...
In other news, I got my second portrait tattoo yesterday. It's a portrait of my mom, to go with the one I got of my dad in August. It's still healing, and is still red and puffy at the moment, but Chris tells me it looks great. I'll post pictures eventually when it's less pained looking. And although I'm going to have to wait until my bank account is a little more replenished after these last two tattoos, I'm already plotting for where the next ink will go. Here's a hint - if you prefer my arms as they are, you'll want to get a photograph of them before I next go under the needle.
Finally, I can't be typing a blog post on November 2nd of an election year without saying this:
VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE
Vote for hope, vote for change, vote to re-establish America's reputation in the world, vote for a new direction, vote for sound judgment, vote for inclusion, vote for anything's possible, vote for the dream of a new generation. In other words, VOTE FOR OBAMA.
11 October 2008
Thoughts About Cancer
I've been thinking a lot lately about cancer.
Before my dad was diagnosed with esophageal cancer a few years ago, cancer and I had only passed once in a dark hallway. A friend I used to work with had a recurrence of breast cancer when I was working with her; we later lost touch, but I hear through friends she's doing well after a scary year or so. Other than that friend, I can't recall another time cancer has come anywhere close to me. There's no history of it on either side of my family, which is one of the reasons why my dad's diagnosis was such a shock.
In some ways, I guess I was lucky that cancer hadn't been more a part of my life before my dad's diagnosis, especially as the past few years it seems that the disease is making up for lost time.
After my dad got cancer, one of our cats then was diagnosed with lymphoma. We put him through a year of chemotherapy, and he's doing splendidly well now. My father's cancer wasn't as amiable, however, and he died in December after it had spread to his lungs, lymph nodes, and spine.
Between my dad's death and the memorial gathering we held for him in early February, the elder sister of one of my college girlfriends was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. She began chemotherapy and has spent the majority of the last eight months in the hospital. She got a bone marrow transplant a month or so ago, and things were looking up. Then a couple of weeks ago her body started showing signs of rejecting the new marrow. Her doctors have been grappling with the graft/host issues ever since, and yesterday I heard that the doctors can do no more.
Ever since my dad died at the age of 72, whenever I hear about someone whose parent is still alive at the age of 80, 85, 90, or more, I have the immediate and selfish thought of, "That's not fair." And it's not, I suppose. Yes, at 72 he had lived a good, long life, and had gotten to watch his children grow up. But I still maintain, in the selfish way a daughter who has lost her father would maintain, that he should have had another 10 years.
What my friend is now going through, on the other hand, is unfair to the point of being criminal. Her sister is only a couple years older than we are, in her late 30s. She is married to a wonderful man who adores her to pieces, and they have a precocious little boy who's five or six years old. She will not live to see her son grow up. She will not grow old with her husband. Her son will not have his mother around for the rest of his life. And there is no way on this earth that is anything but tragic, unfair, and wrong.
There are blessings in the midst of all of this, in that my friend's family is very close - her parents and their respective partners are all good friends. The family unit is incredibly tight, and they've been leaning on one another for months now as they work their way through this. But no parent should have to face burying their child. Ever.
Last night as I sat on the sofa watching TV and thinking about my friend and her family, I looked at my cat sleeping next to me. I watched the side of his body move up and down slowly with each breath he took, and I couldn't help but wonder why he had lived and my father had died. Why was my cat spared and my friend's sister is in her final hours? I love my cat dearly, and I'm glad we chose to put him through the year of chemo and I'm glad he responded well to the treatment. But what kind of disease spares a house pet and takes two people instead?
And I think that's just it; cancer is, at heart, completely and utterly unfair. It makes its living by being unfair. It's ruthless, heartless, unforgiving, rude, cunning, and sadistic, but all of that pales in comparison to how heart-breakingly unfair it is.
All the positive thoughts I'd been thinking for my friend's sister to get better are now being transferred to the whole family, in the hopes that they can see their way through this.
A friend sent me this poem shortly after my dad died, and I still find great comfort in it. I've been thinking about it again lately, and will eventually send it to my friend and her family. When the time is right.
"Dirge Without Music" - Edna St. Vincent Millay
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
Before my dad was diagnosed with esophageal cancer a few years ago, cancer and I had only passed once in a dark hallway. A friend I used to work with had a recurrence of breast cancer when I was working with her; we later lost touch, but I hear through friends she's doing well after a scary year or so. Other than that friend, I can't recall another time cancer has come anywhere close to me. There's no history of it on either side of my family, which is one of the reasons why my dad's diagnosis was such a shock.
In some ways, I guess I was lucky that cancer hadn't been more a part of my life before my dad's diagnosis, especially as the past few years it seems that the disease is making up for lost time.
After my dad got cancer, one of our cats then was diagnosed with lymphoma. We put him through a year of chemotherapy, and he's doing splendidly well now. My father's cancer wasn't as amiable, however, and he died in December after it had spread to his lungs, lymph nodes, and spine.
Between my dad's death and the memorial gathering we held for him in early February, the elder sister of one of my college girlfriends was diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. She began chemotherapy and has spent the majority of the last eight months in the hospital. She got a bone marrow transplant a month or so ago, and things were looking up. Then a couple of weeks ago her body started showing signs of rejecting the new marrow. Her doctors have been grappling with the graft/host issues ever since, and yesterday I heard that the doctors can do no more.
Ever since my dad died at the age of 72, whenever I hear about someone whose parent is still alive at the age of 80, 85, 90, or more, I have the immediate and selfish thought of, "That's not fair." And it's not, I suppose. Yes, at 72 he had lived a good, long life, and had gotten to watch his children grow up. But I still maintain, in the selfish way a daughter who has lost her father would maintain, that he should have had another 10 years.
What my friend is now going through, on the other hand, is unfair to the point of being criminal. Her sister is only a couple years older than we are, in her late 30s. She is married to a wonderful man who adores her to pieces, and they have a precocious little boy who's five or six years old. She will not live to see her son grow up. She will not grow old with her husband. Her son will not have his mother around for the rest of his life. And there is no way on this earth that is anything but tragic, unfair, and wrong.
There are blessings in the midst of all of this, in that my friend's family is very close - her parents and their respective partners are all good friends. The family unit is incredibly tight, and they've been leaning on one another for months now as they work their way through this. But no parent should have to face burying their child. Ever.
Last night as I sat on the sofa watching TV and thinking about my friend and her family, I looked at my cat sleeping next to me. I watched the side of his body move up and down slowly with each breath he took, and I couldn't help but wonder why he had lived and my father had died. Why was my cat spared and my friend's sister is in her final hours? I love my cat dearly, and I'm glad we chose to put him through the year of chemo and I'm glad he responded well to the treatment. But what kind of disease spares a house pet and takes two people instead?
And I think that's just it; cancer is, at heart, completely and utterly unfair. It makes its living by being unfair. It's ruthless, heartless, unforgiving, rude, cunning, and sadistic, but all of that pales in comparison to how heart-breakingly unfair it is.
All the positive thoughts I'd been thinking for my friend's sister to get better are now being transferred to the whole family, in the hopes that they can see their way through this.
A friend sent me this poem shortly after my dad died, and I still find great comfort in it. I've been thinking about it again lately, and will eventually send it to my friend and her family. When the time is right.
"Dirge Without Music" - Edna St. Vincent Millay
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
05 October 2008
Baking Music
I don't know about you, but when I get to doing domestic stuff I really need the right soundtrack. And since I don't really cook all that much, it's not often that I need baking music - but this afternoon I baked two apple pies, and I knew that facing that many apples that needed peeling and coring required something to keep me motivated. So I broke out my old favorite, a 2-CD set guaranteed to take me through any marathon baking session - James Taylor Live.
I remember getting this CD set back in college, when all my friends had it and I coveted it, and then in the years after I graduated - when I lived alone in a dark basement apartment in SE Portland and didn't really do much cooking at all - the CDs kept me company when I would clean. I'd blare the stereo and sing over the noise of the vacuum cleaner - those old James Taylor favorites kept me happy and moving when I would have just preferred to sink into the sofa and watch TV.
Nowadays, I have plenty more CDs that are just as upbeat and motivating, but sometimes I just crave my old favorite. And today, when it's been raining all. day. long. and I knew I'd be baking my dessert equivalent of comfort food, I wanted something like the musical equivalent of comfort food, too. So James Taylor and his excellent band have been keeping me going for the past couple hours. Now the pies are just barely out of the oven, the house smells amazing, and the last song just finished on CD #2. I feel all warm inside. Mission very much accomplished.
What's your cooking soundtrack?
I remember getting this CD set back in college, when all my friends had it and I coveted it, and then in the years after I graduated - when I lived alone in a dark basement apartment in SE Portland and didn't really do much cooking at all - the CDs kept me company when I would clean. I'd blare the stereo and sing over the noise of the vacuum cleaner - those old James Taylor favorites kept me happy and moving when I would have just preferred to sink into the sofa and watch TV.
Nowadays, I have plenty more CDs that are just as upbeat and motivating, but sometimes I just crave my old favorite. And today, when it's been raining all. day. long. and I knew I'd be baking my dessert equivalent of comfort food, I wanted something like the musical equivalent of comfort food, too. So James Taylor and his excellent band have been keeping me going for the past couple hours. Now the pies are just barely out of the oven, the house smells amazing, and the last song just finished on CD #2. I feel all warm inside. Mission very much accomplished.
What's your cooking soundtrack?
03 October 2008
I Made an LOLcat
I'm a big fan of the I Can Has Cheezburger site, with its endless supply of hysterical cat pictures that have been even-more hysterically captioned by people who are way more clever than I am. Well, I don't think it's a masterpiece, but the other day when Bub stuck his head in the almost-empty Burgerville bag hunting for something to steal, I grabbed my Blackberry and grabbed this photo. It's not pretty, but you get the idea.
Do click through to the actual site for more pictures - pictures that are much funnier than this one.
Do click through to the actual site for more pictures - pictures that are much funnier than this one.
26 September 2008
Post Turtle
As if to further drive home the point I made in my last post that it's unusual for me to be voting for anyone with an R after their name, I wanted to share a joke a friend just sent me.
While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75-year old Texas rancher whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to Sarah Palin and her bid to be a heartbeat away from being President.
The old rancher said, 'Well, ya know, Palin is a post turtle.'
Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a post turtle was.
The old rancher said, 'When you're driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle.'
The old rancher saw a puzzled look on the doctor's face, so he continued to explain. 'You know she didn't get up there by herself, she doesn't belong up there, she doesn't know what to do while she is up there, and you just wonder what kind of dumb ass put her up there to begin with.'
24 September 2008
Why I'm Voting for a Republican for the First Time This Year
Before anyone panics, let me start with this - no, it's not McCain. Get real, people.
I've voted in every election that's come up ever since I turned 18, no matter how goofy it seemed that there might only be one person "running" for a school board position or how many British stamps I had to put on my absentee ballot for the 1992 presidential election. Once I became a registered voter, there was going to be no stopping me. And, until this year, that has meant that I've voted for a Democrat in every office where parties were listed. I fundamentally disagree with so much of the Republican platform that it's usually a pretty easy choice to make. I am not, however, one of those people who just sees a "D" by someone's name and votes for them without reading about them or doing my research on them, but I have never found a non-D candidate I thought was good enough to get my vote.
And that's all going to change this November.
In Oregon, of the two major candidates for State Treasurer, I've decided I'm going to vote for the Republican, Allen Alley. I've been mulling over this decision for months now, and I'm sure it's the right choice. Allen's got the most business experience in the race, the best ideas, and the biggest commitment to doing what he can to turn the economy in Oregon around. On top of that, there isn't really a true Democrat in the race at all - the guy with the "D" after his name was an R two years ago (and even was an Independent in between being an R and re-registering as a D). As a lifelong Democrat, I'm thoroughly disappointed in my party, that it thinks he's the best we can do for a candidate. He's not, folks - not even close.
So when my party lets me down, it doesn't make sense for me to reward it by making a bad choice worse. It doesn't make sense for me to support a candidate that I actually think will do harm (and not just be ineffectual) to the state's economy. It doesn't make sense because there's a great candidate on the other side of the proverbial aisle.
And so it is that come November, for the first time in my life, I'm going to check a box next to a name with an R next to it - and I urge you to do the same.
Learn more about Allen Alley at his website
I've voted in every election that's come up ever since I turned 18, no matter how goofy it seemed that there might only be one person "running" for a school board position or how many British stamps I had to put on my absentee ballot for the 1992 presidential election. Once I became a registered voter, there was going to be no stopping me. And, until this year, that has meant that I've voted for a Democrat in every office where parties were listed. I fundamentally disagree with so much of the Republican platform that it's usually a pretty easy choice to make. I am not, however, one of those people who just sees a "D" by someone's name and votes for them without reading about them or doing my research on them, but I have never found a non-D candidate I thought was good enough to get my vote.
And that's all going to change this November.
In Oregon, of the two major candidates for State Treasurer, I've decided I'm going to vote for the Republican, Allen Alley. I've been mulling over this decision for months now, and I'm sure it's the right choice. Allen's got the most business experience in the race, the best ideas, and the biggest commitment to doing what he can to turn the economy in Oregon around. On top of that, there isn't really a true Democrat in the race at all - the guy with the "D" after his name was an R two years ago (and even was an Independent in between being an R and re-registering as a D). As a lifelong Democrat, I'm thoroughly disappointed in my party, that it thinks he's the best we can do for a candidate. He's not, folks - not even close.
So when my party lets me down, it doesn't make sense for me to reward it by making a bad choice worse. It doesn't make sense for me to support a candidate that I actually think will do harm (and not just be ineffectual) to the state's economy. It doesn't make sense because there's a great candidate on the other side of the proverbial aisle.
And so it is that come November, for the first time in my life, I'm going to check a box next to a name with an R next to it - and I urge you to do the same.
Learn more about Allen Alley at his website
18 September 2008
Do I really talk about laundry that much?
So, you may have noticed the little Twitter updates at the top of the blog - I'm a big Twitter fan. I use Twitter every day. I talk about work, Italy, the cats, the husband, food, and whatever the heck is on my mind. Just today someone I follow on Twitter posted about her "Tweet Cloud," which of course I had to check out for my own account - and I'm kind of horrified at what I found.
For some background, a "Tweet Cloud" is Twitter-speak for a "tag cloud" - and a "cloud" in this sense is essentially a list of words that you use often in tags (or, in this case, posts on Twitter), where the words are physically different sizes based on how much or how little they're used. The idea is that you get a graphic representation of how often you talk about certain things. So, because I was curious, I decided to see what my "Tweet Cloud" looked like (can I just say here how much I hate the word "tweet" for Twitter updates, and wonder aloud why things have to be cutesy and make us sound like idiots when we talk about them?).
I'm not surprised that the word "today" is my most-used word on Twitter - I usually start off each day talking about what I'm going to do that day. So the fact that "today" has 99 appearances & "day" has 81 makes sense to me. "Italian" coming in at 71 appearances doesn't surprise me either. ("Italy" has 44 appearances.) But the fact that "coffee" shows up 63 times is a little frightening. I had no idea I talked about coffee that much - it's especially weird because prior to our February/March trip to Italy, I didn't drink coffee at all. Ever. So apparently I'm making up for lost time or something.
If you look at all the food-related words in the whole cloud, there's quite a bit of food-talk going on in my Twitter stream, too. And the other day, one of the people I follow on Twitter wrote, "Raise your hand if andiamo's tweets make you hungry - and jealous." This is all surprising to notice, given that I basically don't cook. I eat.
And finally, I'm a little disturbed to note that the word "laundry" shows up 13 times. Now, it's not exactly competing with "Italian" (or "coffee," for that matter), but I swear, I had no idea I'd even mentioned doing laundry all that much. The fact that it's there 13 times is bizarre to me. And it's going to make me think twice about mentioning my laundry again.
For some background, a "Tweet Cloud" is Twitter-speak for a "tag cloud" - and a "cloud" in this sense is essentially a list of words that you use often in tags (or, in this case, posts on Twitter), where the words are physically different sizes based on how much or how little they're used. The idea is that you get a graphic representation of how often you talk about certain things. So, because I was curious, I decided to see what my "Tweet Cloud" looked like (can I just say here how much I hate the word "tweet" for Twitter updates, and wonder aloud why things have to be cutesy and make us sound like idiots when we talk about them?).
I'm not surprised that the word "today" is my most-used word on Twitter - I usually start off each day talking about what I'm going to do that day. So the fact that "today" has 99 appearances & "day" has 81 makes sense to me. "Italian" coming in at 71 appearances doesn't surprise me either. ("Italy" has 44 appearances.) But the fact that "coffee" shows up 63 times is a little frightening. I had no idea I talked about coffee that much - it's especially weird because prior to our February/March trip to Italy, I didn't drink coffee at all. Ever. So apparently I'm making up for lost time or something.
If you look at all the food-related words in the whole cloud, there's quite a bit of food-talk going on in my Twitter stream, too. And the other day, one of the people I follow on Twitter wrote, "Raise your hand if andiamo's tweets make you hungry - and jealous." This is all surprising to notice, given that I basically don't cook. I eat.
And finally, I'm a little disturbed to note that the word "laundry" shows up 13 times. Now, it's not exactly competing with "Italian" (or "coffee," for that matter), but I swear, I had no idea I'd even mentioned doing laundry all that much. The fact that it's there 13 times is bizarre to me. And it's going to make me think twice about mentioning my laundry again.
08 September 2008
The Miracle of Bun Toast
You know that I live with a cook - Chris is a wonder in the kitchen. He makes a royal mess when he's really getting into it, but I can't complain. He cooks pizza about once a week, makes homemade tomato sauce & sweet pickles, and even got into making fig jam last year. But when it comes to breakfast, he's a one-trick pony - it's cold cereal and milk in the morning, every morning, and has been for as long as I've known him.
That is, until a few months ago, when he invented Bun Toast.
More accurately it's known as Cinnamon Bun Toast, but he calls it Bun Toast for short. I still don't know what possessed him to create it, but it's genius - it really is. It starts with basic cinnamon toast, but on top of the usual butter & cinnamon sugar he spreads a layer of vanilla cake icing on top of the toast. It's not just any cake icing, though - it's Betty Crocker Rich & Creamy Vanilla, thankyouverymuch. He even writes it that way on the grocery list when I do the shopping, so I don't get the wrong kind by mistake, gawd forbid.
When he first told me about his new creation, I thought he was nuts - but then he made me some Bun Toast one morning for breakfast, and I'll be damned if it didn't taste almost exactly like a cinnamon bun.
Genius, I tell you.
I have friends coming into town this weekend to stay with us, and I told Chris I'd asked them what we needed to have on hand for breakfasts, etc., and he said, "Wait'll I make Bun Toast for them..." So he's all set to spread the Gospel of the Bun Toast. Hope the world is ready.
That is, until a few months ago, when he invented Bun Toast.
More accurately it's known as Cinnamon Bun Toast, but he calls it Bun Toast for short. I still don't know what possessed him to create it, but it's genius - it really is. It starts with basic cinnamon toast, but on top of the usual butter & cinnamon sugar he spreads a layer of vanilla cake icing on top of the toast. It's not just any cake icing, though - it's Betty Crocker Rich & Creamy Vanilla, thankyouverymuch. He even writes it that way on the grocery list when I do the shopping, so I don't get the wrong kind by mistake, gawd forbid.
When he first told me about his new creation, I thought he was nuts - but then he made me some Bun Toast one morning for breakfast, and I'll be damned if it didn't taste almost exactly like a cinnamon bun.
Genius, I tell you.
I have friends coming into town this weekend to stay with us, and I told Chris I'd asked them what we needed to have on hand for breakfasts, etc., and he said, "Wait'll I make Bun Toast for them..." So he's all set to spread the Gospel of the Bun Toast. Hope the world is ready.
29 August 2008
The DNC Makes Me Cry
I'm not sure why, but I have a habit of crying during speeches at the Democratic National Convention. I remember crying during the 1992 DNC because I thought, "Holy shit, we actually have a chance this year!" That year, listening to Aretha Franklin sing the National Anthem also brought me to tears, which I kind of think should happen to everyone when she sings the National Anthem - but it's possible that I've shed tears every four years since then as well.
I don't recall crying at the 1996 or 2000 conventions specifically (although I distinctly remember crying when the stupid effing Supreme Court handed a victory to our current lame-ass excuse for a president), but I do remember in 2004 watching a skinny black guy who I'd never heard of before in my life give what I thought was one of the best speeches I'd ever heard - a speech I still remember parts of to this day. It was a speech that made me cry. And as I cried, I thought, "If I live to see a black president, it's gonna be this guy. Now what was his name again?"
His name, of course, was Barack Obama. And I cried my eyes out this week watching the convention in Denver. And while I may not have a "valid excuse" for crying in the past (not that I feel I need one, mind you), I know at least one of the reasons I was so emotional this week - I'm watching history.
I've always been proud to be a Democrat, and a Liberal Democrat at that. My parents raised me to care about other people, particularly those with less than I have, and to think that our government has a responsibility to make sure everyone has an equal opportunity to make the most of their lives. If you squander your opportunities, that's your business - but if you have no opportunities, that shouldn't be your fault. Even when that's not a popular opinion, I've always been proud to carry that worldview in my heart.
But I've never been prouder to be a Democrat than this year.
This year, my party had as its two finalists in the primaries not one but two historic candidates. And this year, my party nominated the first African-American on a major party ticket. The Rs may crow about their VP nomination this year, but let's not forget Geraldine Ferraro in 1984. The bottom line is this - you can't tell me the Democrats aren't the party of change.
So, as Obama implied last night during his amazing acceptance speech, I say bring it on, November. There's a change-making army coming your way, whether you like it or not.
I don't recall crying at the 1996 or 2000 conventions specifically (although I distinctly remember crying when the stupid effing Supreme Court handed a victory to our current lame-ass excuse for a president), but I do remember in 2004 watching a skinny black guy who I'd never heard of before in my life give what I thought was one of the best speeches I'd ever heard - a speech I still remember parts of to this day. It was a speech that made me cry. And as I cried, I thought, "If I live to see a black president, it's gonna be this guy. Now what was his name again?"
His name, of course, was Barack Obama. And I cried my eyes out this week watching the convention in Denver. And while I may not have a "valid excuse" for crying in the past (not that I feel I need one, mind you), I know at least one of the reasons I was so emotional this week - I'm watching history.
I've always been proud to be a Democrat, and a Liberal Democrat at that. My parents raised me to care about other people, particularly those with less than I have, and to think that our government has a responsibility to make sure everyone has an equal opportunity to make the most of their lives. If you squander your opportunities, that's your business - but if you have no opportunities, that shouldn't be your fault. Even when that's not a popular opinion, I've always been proud to carry that worldview in my heart.
But I've never been prouder to be a Democrat than this year.
This year, my party had as its two finalists in the primaries not one but two historic candidates. And this year, my party nominated the first African-American on a major party ticket. The Rs may crow about their VP nomination this year, but let's not forget Geraldine Ferraro in 1984. The bottom line is this - you can't tell me the Democrats aren't the party of change.
So, as Obama implied last night during his amazing acceptance speech, I say bring it on, November. There's a change-making army coming your way, whether you like it or not.
22 August 2008
The Tattoo & The Photo
My tattoo has healed nicely; the itching stopped, and it's not the least bit sore anymore. In fact, I don't even notice it now. Here, you can see how well it's healed for yourself:
That's the tattoo on the left, & the original photo on the right. Just in case you were confused. I can understand why you would be, & all, because the tattoo is so damned realistic...
And now that I've gotten my second tattoo, 11 years after my first one, I'm seriously anxious to get my third. It's like a need now - and although my appointment is in November, Jerry said he might be able to get me in before that if he gets another cancellation. No offense to the people who might chicken out & cancel their tattoo appointments, but I'm really hoping someone gets cold feet soon.
After 36+ years with nothing on my back, now having the one portrait there makes me feel like it's unfinished until I get the next one... Weird, I know. But there you are.
That's the tattoo on the left, & the original photo on the right. Just in case you were confused. I can understand why you would be, & all, because the tattoo is so damned realistic...
And now that I've gotten my second tattoo, 11 years after my first one, I'm seriously anxious to get my third. It's like a need now - and although my appointment is in November, Jerry said he might be able to get me in before that if he gets another cancellation. No offense to the people who might chicken out & cancel their tattoo appointments, but I'm really hoping someone gets cold feet soon.
After 36+ years with nothing on my back, now having the one portrait there makes me feel like it's unfinished until I get the next one... Weird, I know. But there you are.
12 August 2008
November Came Early This Year
Remember in the last post when I said I had a tattoo consult coming up? It went fine, but the earliest appointments that were available weren't until November. I made my appointments, and promptly stopped thinking about tattoos.
Well, not three days after I'd had my consultation with Jerry, my tattoo artist at the very fine Atlas Tattoo, he called me to say, "Hey, I have a cancellation tomorrow - you want it?" My answer:
HELL YEAH!
So, last Saturday I spent just over three hours lying on my stomach with my neck twisted painfully to the left as a bearded man drove three different sets of needles into my left shoulder blade at high speed and repeatedly. In other words, I got my second tattoo.
It's still healing - we're past the "wash three times daily & apply ointment" phase and have now moved into the "apply lotion 3-5 times daily" phase. I think that phase lasts a week. The tattoo has started to peel a bit as of today, but that's normal. And the most important thing is this - it looks fucking amazing.
I'd seen portraits done on those TLC tattoo shows, and always been amazed by the skill that it must take to render a perfect copy of a portrait in ink on skin. And after looking at Jerry's portfolio, I knew he'd be able to do it. But there's nothing that can prepare you for the moment when you look in the mirror and see a perfect copy of a photograph you've know and loved your whole life on your skin. It's trippy, people. Seriously trippy.
Jerry said that it's likely he'll have another cancellation before my next scheduled November appointment, so I may be able to get that one a little earlier as well. We'll see. Until then, I'm dealing with a near-constant kink in my neck because I keep straining to see the tattoo in the mirror.
The picture above is from Sunday morning, when the tattoo was first unbandaged and still quite red & a little puffy. I'll have Chris take another picture when it's healed more so you can see the detail better. Until then, you have my permission to be amazed anyway.
29 July 2008
The Next Tattoo
When I got my first (and only) tattoo in 1997, the tattoo artist told me, "They're addictive - you'll be back." I wasn't sure at the time, because it hurt like hell (I'm a complete pain wimp, though, so maybe it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it hurt), but not long afterwards I knew I was hooked. I dreamed up all kinds of other designs, and for awhile everything looked like a potential tattoo. But, as noted, that was 11 years ago.
Well, I'm finally getting inked again. I don't have an appointment yet, but I have a consult set up on the 5th, at which point I have to lay down a deposit in cash, so I'll be making an appointment before I leave that consult - that's for sure. I'm both excited & nervous, because what I've got in mind is pretty big.
The idea for the first part of the new tattoo design came to me when my dad's prognosis became so grim last year. I knew he wanted to be cremated, and I'd seen some memorial tattoos done on TV (yes, I love those TLC tattoo shows) where small amounts of the ashes of the loved one are put into the ink that they do the tattoo with. I knew right then that I wanted to do that. I didn't tell my dad, because he really didn't like hearing about what he called the "maudlin" stuff people were thinking about him dying. He just wanted to live. So, I kept it to myself. And now I have a consult with a guy who, based on his portfolio, is a kickass portrait artist (no small feat with tattoos - I looked at another portfolio in town that was shockingly bad in comparison). I'd like my favorite photo of my dad, which happens to be with me on his lap when I was about three, tattooed on my left shoulder blade.
Then that got me thinking about my mom. She's still very much alive, but a few years ago she gave my brothers and I each a framed photo of herself with the words, "This is how I want to be remembered when I die." Yes, she's like that. And not in a morose way. Anyway, it's a gorgeous black & white photo of her, and as I was thinking about my dad's portrait tattoo I thought that photo of her would also make a lovely tattoo. So, I'm planning to get that on my right shoulder blade. She doesn't know, and I don't plan to tell her until I can show her. (And she doesn't read this blog, so far as I know, so no worries there.)
Portraits aren't small things - they're big. And these will be big. I want them to be big, I'm totally loving how I think they'll look. And I'm also freaking out about the pain. I know that I can stop it at any point and come back, but I'm still really nervous. Of course, for the first tattoo, my overly freaked-out self was actually a blessing in disguise - it hurt, yes... But it didn't hurt nearly as bad as I assumed it would. So maybe that's actually kind of a strategy I have here - assume the worst, so that anything better than that is a huge relief.
Anyway, I've got my consult on the 5th, to which I'll bring in the two photos in question along with my cash deposit, and I'll get to chat a bit with my artist. Yippee!
Well, I'm finally getting inked again. I don't have an appointment yet, but I have a consult set up on the 5th, at which point I have to lay down a deposit in cash, so I'll be making an appointment before I leave that consult - that's for sure. I'm both excited & nervous, because what I've got in mind is pretty big.
The idea for the first part of the new tattoo design came to me when my dad's prognosis became so grim last year. I knew he wanted to be cremated, and I'd seen some memorial tattoos done on TV (yes, I love those TLC tattoo shows) where small amounts of the ashes of the loved one are put into the ink that they do the tattoo with. I knew right then that I wanted to do that. I didn't tell my dad, because he really didn't like hearing about what he called the "maudlin" stuff people were thinking about him dying. He just wanted to live. So, I kept it to myself. And now I have a consult with a guy who, based on his portfolio, is a kickass portrait artist (no small feat with tattoos - I looked at another portfolio in town that was shockingly bad in comparison). I'd like my favorite photo of my dad, which happens to be with me on his lap when I was about three, tattooed on my left shoulder blade.
Then that got me thinking about my mom. She's still very much alive, but a few years ago she gave my brothers and I each a framed photo of herself with the words, "This is how I want to be remembered when I die." Yes, she's like that. And not in a morose way. Anyway, it's a gorgeous black & white photo of her, and as I was thinking about my dad's portrait tattoo I thought that photo of her would also make a lovely tattoo. So, I'm planning to get that on my right shoulder blade. She doesn't know, and I don't plan to tell her until I can show her. (And she doesn't read this blog, so far as I know, so no worries there.)
Portraits aren't small things - they're big. And these will be big. I want them to be big, I'm totally loving how I think they'll look. And I'm also freaking out about the pain. I know that I can stop it at any point and come back, but I'm still really nervous. Of course, for the first tattoo, my overly freaked-out self was actually a blessing in disguise - it hurt, yes... But it didn't hurt nearly as bad as I assumed it would. So maybe that's actually kind of a strategy I have here - assume the worst, so that anything better than that is a huge relief.
Anyway, I've got my consult on the 5th, to which I'll bring in the two photos in question along with my cash deposit, and I'll get to chat a bit with my artist. Yippee!
23 July 2008
I'm really not a very good traveler sometimes
Honestly, as much as I love being in other places and experiencing different cultures, there's plenty about traveling that really just bothers me. I hate travel days, for instance, the actual days when you're moving from Point A to Point B - especially (actually, almost exclusively) when it involves air travel.
For starters, I think I kind of suck at packing, and not in the way you might expect. I'm so insanely good at cramming bits & bobs into all the nooks & crannies of my suitcases that I end up "being able" to get way more into my bags than I really need to be bringing. And what's even worse is that when I'm done packing, my first reaction is to look at my open & fully packed suitcase and think, "Wow, I'm good." It's like this beam of light shines down on the bag, and a chorus of angels comes over a loudspeaker, and I hear, "She beheld the packing job and - lo! - it was good" in a big booming voice in my head. The beam of light and chorus of angels go away as soon as I have to pick said bag off the floor and carry it up or down a flight of stairs. Then I curse myself under my breath, wishing I hadn't packed so much crap.
Problem #2 about air travel days is the airport itself. While I still get a thrill about entering an airport, knowing that I'm going to go to bed in a different place than I woke up that morning, the thrill leaves pretty quickly. Basically, as soon as I have to start stripping off my belt, shoes, coat, and any other random metal pieces of jewelry at the security gate. I've gotten better about this process, in that I no longer feel compelled to have all of my stuff ready to go onto the conveyor belt in the specified plastic bins in the oh-so-short time it takes me to get from the pile of bins to the metal detector. I used to get really freaked out that I was holding up the line behind me, but now I just tell people to go around me if I'm still fumbling with my laptop or if I've stupidly put a double-knot in my shoelaces that day. But still.
Then there's my seemingly pathological need to be at any appointment (and I'm including flights in this category) insanely early. I tend to get just about anywhere I'm supposed to be going at least 10 minutes before I really need to be there, and it can be up to an hour if I don't know the area well. On the one hand, this means that I'm almost never late for stuff, and that theoretically it gives me time in the airport to relax and not feel like I'm running to catch a flight last minute. On the other hand, however, this also means that I'm stuck in an airport for way more time than I really need to be there. And if that airport doesn't have free WiFi (*cough* SFO *cough*), then I'm also stuck paying a few bucks to turn my computer into something that'll keep me entertained for all the extra time I've ended up sticking myself with at the airport.
I used to be able to sleep on planes, and I seem to have lost that gift. So that's another problem. I find myself sitting nearly bolt upright (and that's with the seat back fully reclined, of course), staring at whatever the nearest video screen is and watching whatever's on it, no matter how horrible. I eat the often-inedible stuff they put in front of me, and I barely move - this despite usually getting my requested aisle seat. All this means I arrive at my destination bleary eyed, exhausted, disoriented, and with a really short fuse. Of course, in one of those cruel jokes likes to play, I'm usually able to sleep on the way back home - but those are the flights that are almost always at night, when I'd rather be staying awake so that I can sleep when I get into my own bed. Yeah, those are the flights when I doze off in spite of myself. Go figure.
What I'm saying here is that I'm not a very good traveler sometimes, and that I don't always like the travel part of a trip. But even with all of that, if you dangle the promise of a plane ticket in front of my nose, I'll salivate like a rabid dog. It's like in that moment I forget all the stuff I actually hate about travel, which is good, because if I didn't I might never go anywhere again.
Wow, I'm going to have to bite my own tongue for even saying that now.
Anyway, the point here is that while I'm not so bad as to be a travel writer who hates to travel (a-la "Accidental Tourist"), you can definitely add my name to what I imagine is already a long list of people who love travel but really hate travel days.
For starters, I think I kind of suck at packing, and not in the way you might expect. I'm so insanely good at cramming bits & bobs into all the nooks & crannies of my suitcases that I end up "being able" to get way more into my bags than I really need to be bringing. And what's even worse is that when I'm done packing, my first reaction is to look at my open & fully packed suitcase and think, "Wow, I'm good." It's like this beam of light shines down on the bag, and a chorus of angels comes over a loudspeaker, and I hear, "She beheld the packing job and - lo! - it was good" in a big booming voice in my head. The beam of light and chorus of angels go away as soon as I have to pick said bag off the floor and carry it up or down a flight of stairs. Then I curse myself under my breath, wishing I hadn't packed so much crap.
Problem #2 about air travel days is the airport itself. While I still get a thrill about entering an airport, knowing that I'm going to go to bed in a different place than I woke up that morning, the thrill leaves pretty quickly. Basically, as soon as I have to start stripping off my belt, shoes, coat, and any other random metal pieces of jewelry at the security gate. I've gotten better about this process, in that I no longer feel compelled to have all of my stuff ready to go onto the conveyor belt in the specified plastic bins in the oh-so-short time it takes me to get from the pile of bins to the metal detector. I used to get really freaked out that I was holding up the line behind me, but now I just tell people to go around me if I'm still fumbling with my laptop or if I've stupidly put a double-knot in my shoelaces that day. But still.
Then there's my seemingly pathological need to be at any appointment (and I'm including flights in this category) insanely early. I tend to get just about anywhere I'm supposed to be going at least 10 minutes before I really need to be there, and it can be up to an hour if I don't know the area well. On the one hand, this means that I'm almost never late for stuff, and that theoretically it gives me time in the airport to relax and not feel like I'm running to catch a flight last minute. On the other hand, however, this also means that I'm stuck in an airport for way more time than I really need to be there. And if that airport doesn't have free WiFi (*cough* SFO *cough*), then I'm also stuck paying a few bucks to turn my computer into something that'll keep me entertained for all the extra time I've ended up sticking myself with at the airport.
I used to be able to sleep on planes, and I seem to have lost that gift. So that's another problem. I find myself sitting nearly bolt upright (and that's with the seat back fully reclined, of course), staring at whatever the nearest video screen is and watching whatever's on it, no matter how horrible. I eat the often-inedible stuff they put in front of me, and I barely move - this despite usually getting my requested aisle seat. All this means I arrive at my destination bleary eyed, exhausted, disoriented, and with a really short fuse. Of course, in one of those cruel jokes likes to play, I'm usually able to sleep on the way back home - but those are the flights that are almost always at night, when I'd rather be staying awake so that I can sleep when I get into my own bed. Yeah, those are the flights when I doze off in spite of myself. Go figure.
What I'm saying here is that I'm not a very good traveler sometimes, and that I don't always like the travel part of a trip. But even with all of that, if you dangle the promise of a plane ticket in front of my nose, I'll salivate like a rabid dog. It's like in that moment I forget all the stuff I actually hate about travel, which is good, because if I didn't I might never go anywhere again.
Wow, I'm going to have to bite my own tongue for even saying that now.
Anyway, the point here is that while I'm not so bad as to be a travel writer who hates to travel (a-la "Accidental Tourist"), you can definitely add my name to what I imagine is already a long list of people who love travel but really hate travel days.
20 July 2008
12 F*#king Years
That's the phrase my dear husband and I (affectionately) use to talk about how long we've been together. Today marks the actual 12th anniversary of our first date, in fact, and it's a date we still like to mark and acknowledge because... Well, because it's a long f*#king time. We've only been married for five years, and saying we've been together for 12 years carries more heft, I think. And while we may joke about that amount of time, we're also really proud to have been together for a dozen years and still share hopes and dreams together. We don't always think alike, but we always support each other and when the going gets rough we are able to lean on one another. It's something I try not to take for granted, and for which I feel very, very lucky.
So, happy anniversary, hubby - I'm looking forward to the next 12 f*#king years.
So, happy anniversary, hubby - I'm looking forward to the next 12 f*#king years.
11 July 2008
Cat Update
I realize I kind of left you hanging with the whole cat situation, in that the last time I wrote about Bub he wasn't eating... Well, the not-eating scare is over! It was over pretty quickly, actually. He started eating again after 5 days or so - too long for my tastes, and he lost a fair bit of weight, but he's put it all back on (and then some). His whiskers are coming in like gangbusters right now, and his tail is getting fluffier. In short, our boy's back. And we're very happy about it.
He'll need to go in for monthly checkups to get poked around the middle to make sure the tumor's not coming back, but unless they find something suspicious, that's all he'll have to do. He doesn't know it yet, but he's very happy about that, too.
He'll need to go in for monthly checkups to get poked around the middle to make sure the tumor's not coming back, but unless they find something suspicious, that's all he'll have to do. He doesn't know it yet, but he's very happy about that, too.
09 July 2008
Where the hell is Matt? - 2008
If you've never heard of "Where the hell is Matt?" then you've been missing out. Matt Harding started out by making his own travel videos of himself doing his dorky little dance in the places he visited, and how he's lucky enough to be sponsored to do the same thing. Yeah, while I have a cool job that I can't believe I get paid to do, this guy's got us all beat. He gets paid to travel and do a dorky dance on film.
This is his 2008 video, and if it doesn't put a gigantic grin on your face, then you might want to check your pulse and make sure you're still alive.
And do yourself a favor - go to the original video on YouTube so you can watch the video in high resolution. To see the looks on the faces of the people he's dancing with is half the fun (if not more).
This is his 2008 video, and if it doesn't put a gigantic grin on your face, then you might want to check your pulse and make sure you're still alive.
And do yourself a favor - go to the original video on YouTube so you can watch the video in high resolution. To see the looks on the faces of the people he's dancing with is half the fun (if not more).
07 July 2008
Three Days in San Francisco
I'm happy to say that I've got plane tickets with my name on them, but sadly they're not for any destination in Italy. What they are for is a blogging conference I'll be attending in San Francisco next weekend - BlogHer 2008. I've never been to a blogging conference, let alone one geared toward women, so this will be interesting on a couple of fronts. I'm hoping to pick up a few new things that I can use for work, mainly related to building community on blogs and writing for online outlets as opposed to print ones. We'll see how much new knowledge I come home with.
In addition to the conference, of course, there's the social aspect of the trip - a blogging friend of mine from Milan will be there, and it'll be really fun to see her, and I've got a few other friends who live in San Francisco and who I'm hoping to see at least a little while I'm there. I'm sure it'll be one of those weekends where I'm more tired on Monday than I was on Friday, but it's all for a good reason. I hope.
Oh, and since the Italian consulate in San Francisco is the one we'll be working with to get our visas and such, I'm planning on paying them a visit at some point, too. Even if I don't have paperwork to hand in or anything to pick up, I figure it can't hurt to drop by and make myself known to them. And my Milan friend has offered to come with me and help make a good impression by speaking flawless Italian to them (that'd be her speaking flawless Italian, not me). Hey, whatever works.
In addition to the conference, of course, there's the social aspect of the trip - a blogging friend of mine from Milan will be there, and it'll be really fun to see her, and I've got a few other friends who live in San Francisco and who I'm hoping to see at least a little while I'm there. I'm sure it'll be one of those weekends where I'm more tired on Monday than I was on Friday, but it's all for a good reason. I hope.
Oh, and since the Italian consulate in San Francisco is the one we'll be working with to get our visas and such, I'm planning on paying them a visit at some point, too. Even if I don't have paperwork to hand in or anything to pick up, I figure it can't hurt to drop by and make myself known to them. And my Milan friend has offered to come with me and help make a good impression by speaking flawless Italian to them (that'd be her speaking flawless Italian, not me). Hey, whatever works.
20 June 2008
Bad Blogger pt. 437
Oh, so many things going on, and never enough time to write about them... Here's a quick snapshot:
- Bub had his last chemo appointment last month, and got a clean bill of health from the oncologist last week, but ever since that visit (although he didn't get any chemo or even have blood taken) he's been mostly uninterested in food. I'm seriously stressing out about it - there are few things worse than when a pet won't eat, because, of course, he can't tell us what's wrong. We've got him on an appetite stimulant now, and we're trying every kind of food we can think of, but we're still in a wait & see mode. We may have to bite the bullet and pay for an x-ray or ultrasound to see if there's a tumor in there somewhere that the vet can't feel (maybe behind his ribcage) that's making him feel poorly. It sucks, but we're keeping our fingers crossed that it's just a temporary thing and he'll start eating again soon. And that the cancer hasn't come back.
- We're making progress on the things we need to get our Italian visas. One item was that our newly-minted birth certificates had to get what's called an "apostille" from the state in which they were issued. Which meant sending them back to the East Coast states from which they'd just arrived (to another department, but still). They both arrived back here at our house today, so we've checked another thing off the to-do list. Our marriage certificate didn't need an apostille, because we got married in Scotland and that meant it was already "good in the European Union." We certainly didn't plan that when we got married, but that's a bonus. Next step is to get the birth certificates and marriage certificate translated into Italian, and then we have to figure out if we need to actually go down to San Francisco to visit the consulate in person, or if we can do it by mail. We've received mixed responses on that question, but ultimately we'll do what the guy in the consulate tells us we need to do.
- I've become all-consumed by the Euro soccer tournament, especially as it concerns the Italian national team - the Azzurri. I get completely worked up & stressed before & during every Italy game, I scream at the TV when they do something stupid, and I swear like a truck driver. I actually made my throat sore during one close game. It's highly amusing to Chris and my co-workers (I've watched one Italy game at the office, and hope to not have to repeat that for fear of more ridicule). Italy plays Spain on Sunday, and if they lose their tournament is over. I'll no doubt start stressing out on Saturday. Hell, who am I kidding? I'm already stressing out about it. I never thought I'd be this into a sporting event. The bummer is that I realized (thanks to Chris) that I have a haircut scheduled for Sunday right in the middle of the Italy match - a haircut that was scheduled months ago, when I had no idea about the outcome of this tournament. So we've got to record the thing and watch it later when I'm done, and in the meantime we've got to ignore the internet, the phone, and all incoming text messages on the off-chance some so-called "friend" tries to talk to me about the game before I've seen it.
09 June 2008
Flickr Mosaic: Who Am I?
I saw this Flickr meme over at Bleeding Espresso, and I couldn't resist it. Of course, there are a few of these things I could have had several different answers to, and I kind of changed one of the questions a bit, but overall it's a fun little meme.
The gist is that you answer 12 questions, and then use those answers to search Flickr. You then put the photos you get as search results into a mosaic. They're not your photos, but they kind of describe you. It's an interesting game. Here's mine:
The questions I answered were:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What did you want to be when you grew up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your Flickr name.
(#9 was originally - "What you want to be when you grow up?" - but since I feel like I've inadvertently gotten my dream job, I figured I'd reflect on what I used to want to be. And I'll confess that for #5 I very nearly had to toss a coin between a couple fellows, but this one is on my mind lately because the Italians are playing in the European football championships. So, there you are.)
If you want to play, here's how to do it:
1. You have to type your answer to each of the 12 questions listed above into Flickr Search.
2. Then, using only the first page of search results, pick one image.
3. Copy & paste the URL for each image into this cool mosaic maker (after adjusting it to make sure there are 12 squares).
And these are the folks whose photos I used for my Flickr mosaic:
1. Jessica(s), 2. Pear Gelato with Dark Chocolate Cookie, 3. North of Corvallis, 4. Orange as any orange on a tree, 5. andrea pirlo, 6. Ripasso Valpolicella, Villa Vinea, 7. Myra - turkey, 8. Gelato, 9. racoon-singer, 10. The Road Less Traveled By, 11. Must be careful when you cross the road,:P, 12. Andiamo tutti al cinquecento
The gist is that you answer 12 questions, and then use those answers to search Flickr. You then put the photos you get as search results into a mosaic. They're not your photos, but they kind of describe you. It's an interesting game. Here's mine:
The questions I answered were:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What did you want to be when you grew up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Your Flickr name.
(#9 was originally - "What you want to be when you grow up?" - but since I feel like I've inadvertently gotten my dream job, I figured I'd reflect on what I used to want to be. And I'll confess that for #5 I very nearly had to toss a coin between a couple fellows, but this one is on my mind lately because the Italians are playing in the European football championships. So, there you are.)
If you want to play, here's how to do it:
1. You have to type your answer to each of the 12 questions listed above into Flickr Search.
2. Then, using only the first page of search results, pick one image.
3. Copy & paste the URL for each image into this cool mosaic maker (after adjusting it to make sure there are 12 squares).
And these are the folks whose photos I used for my Flickr mosaic:
1. Jessica(s), 2. Pear Gelato with Dark Chocolate Cookie, 3. North of Corvallis, 4. Orange as any orange on a tree, 5. andrea pirlo, 6. Ripasso Valpolicella, Villa Vinea, 7. Myra - turkey, 8. Gelato, 9. racoon-singer, 10. The Road Less Traveled By, 11. Must be careful when you cross the road,:P, 12. Andiamo tutti al cinquecento
07 June 2008
Catching Up
Chris got back safe & sound on Thursday night from his trip to Milan, and we're laying low this weekend - he's exhausted (he almost never suffers from jetlag, but this time he's got it) and I'm not feeling much more energetic myself. I have a bad habit of staying up way too late when he's not around, and that went on for the entire 10 days of his trip - so I've got some catching up to do, sleep-wise. At any rate, a slow weekend is looking really nice from both our perspectives.
His trip was, overall, really good - and we still don't really know anything more. He had good meetings, met some more people, saw the end of the Giro bike race, caught a free Andrea Bocelli concert, and caught up with some of our new Milan friends. And the folks who owned the apartment he was staying in had a cat and a kitten, so he got all kinds of feline attention even while he was away from our own cats!
We're both still feeling optimistic about a move to Italy, and we're confident it can happen, but with summer coming up quickly - and with Italy being a country that virtually shuts down in August (not to mention part of July), we figure something will either come through in the next 4-6 weeks or it won't happen until September. So, we wait and see.
On the other front, we're also pushing ahead with obtaining our Italian visas. We had to get new copies of our birth certificates and marriage certificate, and are still waiting on two of the three items to come in the mail. Then we've got to take all of them to Salem to get a special stamp put on them, after which we have to take all of that to the Italian consulate in San Francisco. So we'll be planning a quick trip to SF here in the near future, whenever we can get an appointment.
And in other SF news, it looks like I'll be heading down there in mid-July for a bloggers' conference - my first professional conference as a blogger. I'm pretty excited. The last year has been really amazing for me, career-wise, and I still sit back and feel amazed that someone pays me to do what I do for a living... I am very lucky, and very thankful.
His trip was, overall, really good - and we still don't really know anything more. He had good meetings, met some more people, saw the end of the Giro bike race, caught a free Andrea Bocelli concert, and caught up with some of our new Milan friends. And the folks who owned the apartment he was staying in had a cat and a kitten, so he got all kinds of feline attention even while he was away from our own cats!
We're both still feeling optimistic about a move to Italy, and we're confident it can happen, but with summer coming up quickly - and with Italy being a country that virtually shuts down in August (not to mention part of July), we figure something will either come through in the next 4-6 weeks or it won't happen until September. So, we wait and see.
On the other front, we're also pushing ahead with obtaining our Italian visas. We had to get new copies of our birth certificates and marriage certificate, and are still waiting on two of the three items to come in the mail. Then we've got to take all of them to Salem to get a special stamp put on them, after which we have to take all of that to the Italian consulate in San Francisco. So we'll be planning a quick trip to SF here in the near future, whenever we can get an appointment.
And in other SF news, it looks like I'll be heading down there in mid-July for a bloggers' conference - my first professional conference as a blogger. I'm pretty excited. The last year has been really amazing for me, career-wise, and I still sit back and feel amazed that someone pays me to do what I do for a living... I am very lucky, and very thankful.
31 May 2008
Chris' Italian Adventures
Chris is about halfway through his trip in Milan right now, and he's already had several meetings and interviews. But this weekend he's going to have a bit of fun - on Sunday, the final stage of the Giro d'Italia races into Milan, so he'll be going to see that. And then on Monday, which is a big national holiday in Italy, he's planning to go to a free concert in the Piazza del Duomo by Andrea Bocelli. He's got my little camera, so I told him to snap some pictures. Both events should be a nice diversion from the work he's been doing so far.
Meanwhile, we're moving ahead with the visa paperwork process. For some reason, the copies we already have of our birth certificates and marriage certificate aren't good enough - they have to be issued within the past six months in order to be approved by the Italian consulate. So, we're ordering new copies of all those things. Then, when Chris gets back, we'll have to plan a trip to visit the consulate itself in San Francisco at some point this summer. I think that's one of two trips we'll have to make down there as part of this process, but I can't keep it all straight. Chris has been shepherding the whole thing along, thank goodness. I just do what I'm told.
I've been getting up way too early (for my tastes) to watch the live coverage of the Giro via the internet, so I'm absolutely exhausted (partly because on top of the early mornings, I've also been staying up too late!). I'm going to go to the farmer's market today and then will be enjoying a nice, long nap. I can't wait.
Meanwhile, we're moving ahead with the visa paperwork process. For some reason, the copies we already have of our birth certificates and marriage certificate aren't good enough - they have to be issued within the past six months in order to be approved by the Italian consulate. So, we're ordering new copies of all those things. Then, when Chris gets back, we'll have to plan a trip to visit the consulate itself in San Francisco at some point this summer. I think that's one of two trips we'll have to make down there as part of this process, but I can't keep it all straight. Chris has been shepherding the whole thing along, thank goodness. I just do what I'm told.
I've been getting up way too early (for my tastes) to watch the live coverage of the Giro via the internet, so I'm absolutely exhausted (partly because on top of the early mornings, I've also been staying up too late!). I'm going to go to the farmer's market today and then will be enjoying a nice, long nap. I can't wait.
16 May 2008
Milan: 3 Visits in 6 Months
We just bought a ticket for Chris to go back to Milan - solo this time, bummer for me - for a second job interview. He leaves on May 25 and will be there for about 10 days, having not only that second interview but also a bunch more meetings he's currently setting up. He'll also get a chance to meet again with the folks at the relocation agency in Milan that we're working with to secure the necessary visas for us to actually live in Italy, so that'll be good. We'll probably have to plan a quick trip down to San Francisco shortly after his return to visit the Italian Consulate down there as part of the visa process, but he'll get that confirmed on this trip.
So, while our lives are still very much up in the air, we'd appreciate all the positive thoughts y'all can spare starting May 25 for about 10 days!
So, while our lives are still very much up in the air, we'd appreciate all the positive thoughts y'all can spare starting May 25 for about 10 days!
12 May 2008
Here But Not Here
I know, it's been awhile since I posted... And, given the subject of the last post, you might have thought I resigned from the blog! Well, fear not. I'm still here. Sort of. I mean, I'm here, I'm just not here. If y'know what I mean.
There's always too much stuff going on in our lives these days, it seems, and now's no different. We're in the process right now of trying to figure out a time when Chris can get back to Milan for a week or so, for interviews and more meetings. We're also trying to catch up with friends we haven't seen since before we left for our trip back in February - this past weekend we were quite the social butterflies, let me tell you! And we've still got a long way to go down our catch-up list. Oh, and the Giro d'Italia started this past weekend, so we're getting up too early each morning to watch the live coverage. I'm so not a morning person; I can't help but think, "Gee, it'd be much more pleasant to be a fan of this race if I was in the same time zone."
We did squeeze in a "fun" day a couple of weekends ago, just the two of us, during which we browsed the Portland Farmer's Market (our local market opens this weekend - FINALLY!) and spent a few hours wandering through the Portland Chinese Garden. We had lunch in the tea house there, too, which is always fun. The picture above was taken in the garden that day - I just love that garden, and I especially love looking at it through the lens of my camera.
In other news, I'm sick to death of all the incoming calls we're getting that say "no data" on the caller ID screen (we don't answer them). I've yet to fill out my mail-in ballot, but even if I'd already gotten mine in the Oregon primary isn't until May 20, and we'd still be getting calls right up until then. Ugh. I swear, I think I prefer it when Oregon's late primary doesn't matter to the national candidates. It's bad enough to get the calls from the statewide races! I'll be really pleased when May 20 comes and goes, and the phone stops ringing.
So, you see, I'm here. And I could say I'll try to be better about posting to the blog here, but y'all probably know me better than to believe that crap anyway, right? I hope you know I mean well, at any rate...
There's always too much stuff going on in our lives these days, it seems, and now's no different. We're in the process right now of trying to figure out a time when Chris can get back to Milan for a week or so, for interviews and more meetings. We're also trying to catch up with friends we haven't seen since before we left for our trip back in February - this past weekend we were quite the social butterflies, let me tell you! And we've still got a long way to go down our catch-up list. Oh, and the Giro d'Italia started this past weekend, so we're getting up too early each morning to watch the live coverage. I'm so not a morning person; I can't help but think, "Gee, it'd be much more pleasant to be a fan of this race if I was in the same time zone."
We did squeeze in a "fun" day a couple of weekends ago, just the two of us, during which we browsed the Portland Farmer's Market (our local market opens this weekend - FINALLY!) and spent a few hours wandering through the Portland Chinese Garden. We had lunch in the tea house there, too, which is always fun. The picture above was taken in the garden that day - I just love that garden, and I especially love looking at it through the lens of my camera.
In other news, I'm sick to death of all the incoming calls we're getting that say "no data" on the caller ID screen (we don't answer them). I've yet to fill out my mail-in ballot, but even if I'd already gotten mine in the Oregon primary isn't until May 20, and we'd still be getting calls right up until then. Ugh. I swear, I think I prefer it when Oregon's late primary doesn't matter to the national candidates. It's bad enough to get the calls from the statewide races! I'll be really pleased when May 20 comes and goes, and the phone stops ringing.
So, you see, I'm here. And I could say I'll try to be better about posting to the blog here, but y'all probably know me better than to believe that crap anyway, right? I hope you know I mean well, at any rate...
27 April 2008
The Things You Find When You Clean
Chris & I have just spent the last several hours cleaning out/de-cluttering part of the upstairs hallway that leads into my office nook. There's still quite a bit of work to be done, but we got so much accomplished today, I'm really pleased. We're getting rid of a bunch of stuff, and a bunch more got organized and put away (like it was supposed to have years ago). So, all in all, even though my back is now aching, I'm happy with how I spent my Sunday afternoon.
Of course, there are all kinds of odd and interesting things you tend to find when you're cleaning, especially if you're cleaning out an area that has been untouched for, oh, well, years. One thing I found today made me smile, just as it did when someone first sent it to me via email almost a decade ago, and I thought I'd share it with all y'all.
Of course, there are all kinds of odd and interesting things you tend to find when you're cleaning, especially if you're cleaning out an area that has been untouched for, oh, well, years. One thing I found today made me smile, just as it did when someone first sent it to me via email almost a decade ago, and I thought I'd share it with all y'all.
Resignation
Consider this official notice:
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult.
I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an eight-year-old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four-star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.
I want to lie under a big oak tree & run a lemonade stand with friends on a hot summer day. I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was how to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simply again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in a month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.
So... Here's my checkbook and my car keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I'm resigning from adulthood. And, if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, 'cause:
"Tag, you're it!"
Consider this official notice:
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult.
I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an eight-year-old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four-star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.
I want to lie under a big oak tree & run a lemonade stand with friends on a hot summer day. I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was how to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simply again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in a month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.
So... Here's my checkbook and my car keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I'm resigning from adulthood. And, if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, 'cause:
"Tag, you're it!"
19 April 2008
The Last Photos from Italy
Okay, I've finally gotten around to uploading the rest of the photos I took during the trip to Italy - many apologies for the delay. The entire trip is now chronicled (more or less) in this set on Flickr. The only thing I've left out is the photos from the start of the Milano-Sanremo bike race; but there's a link to that separate set if you're really interested in cycling (or you can go directly to the cycling photos from race sign-in here).
Again, sorry for the delay in getting these online; I hope you enjoy them!
Again, sorry for the delay in getting these online; I hope you enjoy them!
14 April 2008
Thanks for the Support
I read a blog post recently about an American gal who's been living in Italy for the past eight years - she's married to an Italian man, and just had her first baby recently. She mentioned in her post how her mother used to leave classified ads for jobs she'd be qualified for around the house whenever she'd come back to the US to visit, and how she's now upped the ante (now that there's a grandchild added to the mix) by saying, "They've had you for eight years, now it's our turn!" The blogger was wondering who exactly had "had" her for eight years, since her move to Italy in the first place was her decision.
Anyway, it got me thinking how important it is to have a base of support behind you when you do anything that's even remotely unusual or difficult. Yes, great things can be (and often are) accomplished by people who work solo and who don't even have a cheering section, but I can't help but think that's really the tougher road. Even if your support network does nothing more than take you out for a drink every so often, or listen to your complaining, or remind you that you're wonderful no matter what happens - these are incredibly important elements to undertaking any difficult task.
So I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who's been supportive of Chris' and my "Project Italy," as we sometimes call it. It seems crazy to some of our friends and family that we'd want to live in Italy, but for the most part all we hear is encouragement. Some people are sad that we'll be further away, but generally speaking their first question is, "You're going to have a guest room, right?" It means the world to us that our friends and family are so supportive, because although the end result (living in Italy) will be excellent, getting there (figuring out a way to live in Italy legally) is definitely not easy.
In fact, we just found out today in a detailed email exactly what it will take to get one particular visa that would allow us to live and work in Italy without Chris having a job ahead of time. In addition to the cost of the visa, there is an incredible list of documents we'd need to pull together, get translated, and bring personally to the Italian consulate in San Francisco. And, ironically, one of the documents is proof of a residence in Italy... Which is something we thought we couldn't get without the visa first. It's such a circular process, it's no wonder people just go and stay illegally.
At any rate, this is all to say that while we know this isn't necessarily what everyone out there would want for us to be doing right now, we appreciate the support you're giving us anyway. It's quite something to have so many people cheering you on as you try to realize a lifelong dream!
Anyway, it got me thinking how important it is to have a base of support behind you when you do anything that's even remotely unusual or difficult. Yes, great things can be (and often are) accomplished by people who work solo and who don't even have a cheering section, but I can't help but think that's really the tougher road. Even if your support network does nothing more than take you out for a drink every so often, or listen to your complaining, or remind you that you're wonderful no matter what happens - these are incredibly important elements to undertaking any difficult task.
So I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who's been supportive of Chris' and my "Project Italy," as we sometimes call it. It seems crazy to some of our friends and family that we'd want to live in Italy, but for the most part all we hear is encouragement. Some people are sad that we'll be further away, but generally speaking their first question is, "You're going to have a guest room, right?" It means the world to us that our friends and family are so supportive, because although the end result (living in Italy) will be excellent, getting there (figuring out a way to live in Italy legally) is definitely not easy.
In fact, we just found out today in a detailed email exactly what it will take to get one particular visa that would allow us to live and work in Italy without Chris having a job ahead of time. In addition to the cost of the visa, there is an incredible list of documents we'd need to pull together, get translated, and bring personally to the Italian consulate in San Francisco. And, ironically, one of the documents is proof of a residence in Italy... Which is something we thought we couldn't get without the visa first. It's such a circular process, it's no wonder people just go and stay illegally.
At any rate, this is all to say that while we know this isn't necessarily what everyone out there would want for us to be doing right now, we appreciate the support you're giving us anyway. It's quite something to have so many people cheering you on as you try to realize a lifelong dream!
11 April 2008
Signs of Spring
Well, my fever and nasty head-cold migrated both north and south - into my sinuses and lungs - which means that remnants of it will probably be annoying me for weeks (if not months) to come. And then the head-cold kind of morphed into a mysterious stomach ailment, which lasted for several days, and nothing I ate (or didn't eat) seemed to make it any better. That was seriously irritating. That seems to have subsided now (fingers crossed), so I'm beginning to be seen among the living again! Wahoo!
I'm saying this was one of those usual Spring colds, but I know it probably had more to do with just sheer exhaustion after the trip to Italy. But in addition to the stupid cold, there are other signs of Spring - and these I actually like. The weird snowy and hail-y weather we had here a week or so ago has finally given way to beautifully sunny days, and the tulips and daffodils in my garden are in bloom. That's lovely. Chris and I might take a drive tomorrow in the Alfa down to the tulip festival south of Portland because it's supposed to be 75F - I know I won't be able to get any photos that don't have other people in them, but it'd still be fun to get out on such a gorgeous day.
There is one last sign of Spring that I don't like, however, and that's my wardrobe. As much as I love this time of year, I can never seem to find anything to wear. I love my winter clothes, and my fall clothes, and you'd think fall and Spring clothes would be the same - but they're not. So I may have to do a little targeted shopping tomorrow as well. We'll see if I feel like I can afford it.
Hope all's well with you, and it's a beautiful day where you are!
I'm saying this was one of those usual Spring colds, but I know it probably had more to do with just sheer exhaustion after the trip to Italy. But in addition to the stupid cold, there are other signs of Spring - and these I actually like. The weird snowy and hail-y weather we had here a week or so ago has finally given way to beautifully sunny days, and the tulips and daffodils in my garden are in bloom. That's lovely. Chris and I might take a drive tomorrow in the Alfa down to the tulip festival south of Portland because it's supposed to be 75F - I know I won't be able to get any photos that don't have other people in them, but it'd still be fun to get out on such a gorgeous day.
There is one last sign of Spring that I don't like, however, and that's my wardrobe. As much as I love this time of year, I can never seem to find anything to wear. I love my winter clothes, and my fall clothes, and you'd think fall and Spring clothes would be the same - but they're not. So I may have to do a little targeted shopping tomorrow as well. We'll see if I feel like I can afford it.
Hope all's well with you, and it's a beautiful day where you are!
02 April 2008
Down for the Count
That post-trip head-cold I was fearing started coming on before I left for Sea-Tac airport on Sunday to go get Chris, and developed into a low-grade fever on the trip back to Portland. The fever didn't last, thank goodness, but I've had a hacking cough since Sunday night and am now starting to get stuffed up. I was so pleased, I thought I'd actually managed to get away without any real nasty jetlag effects, and then WHAM. That's what I get, I suppose, for thinking I could escape jetlag. Jetlag has some powerful friends, I guess, and it doesn't like to be ignored.
Thankfully, I'm working at home this week anyway, as most of my office is out of town - my "office" is now the sofa, where I can put the laptop down every few hours for a nap. It's amazing how much sleep I feel like I need right now... I'm hoping to feel better by the weekend, because I'm tired of being cooped up in the house - especially now that the weather has finally turned back into Spring!
Thankfully, I'm working at home this week anyway, as most of my office is out of town - my "office" is now the sofa, where I can put the laptop down every few hours for a nap. It's amazing how much sleep I feel like I need right now... I'm hoping to feel better by the weekend, because I'm tired of being cooped up in the house - especially now that the weather has finally turned back into Spring!
28 March 2008
I'm back!
I got in late last night, after a too-long day of airplanes and customs and security lines and no sleep, and I finally turned out the light around 11:30pm. I vaguely recall waking up once during the night, but didn't really start waking up in earnest until almost 8:00am today, so that's good. I'm starting to feel sleepy now, and am hoping to go to bed early, but all in all I'm pleased at how well I slept. We'll see if I can really avoid jetlag, or if I'm deluding myself.
It was extremely hard to leave Italy yesterday; the whole process of packing and taking the train to the airport was just plain depressing. Now, it is nice to be in my own home surrounded by my stuff and to have my cats around (that last part is especially nice), but I could have my own stuff and my cats moved to Italy. So that isn't enough of a lure to stay here. No, moving to Italy is still very much something I want to do, so we'll see how it all works out.
On a lighter note, when I got home last night the garage light was on. I thought that was odd. Then I saw there was a note from our house-sitter extraordinaire on the door, saying one of the cats was in the garage. (They're indoor cats, and not supposed to get into the garage, even.) She said he'd gotten in there just that evening as she was taking out the garbage, and he was too quick for her. He hadn't responded to her attempts to get him back inside, so I spent the first 20 minutes of being home lying on the floor of my garage trying to convince my cat to come out from under Chris' car. He finally did, and when I scooped him I up I realized his paws were kind of oily. Lovely. So then I spent the next 15 minutes washing off my cat's paws (he really didn't love me very much at that point) in a locked bathroom so he couldn't get away and get oily cat footprints all over our cream-colored carpets. Then, and only then, did I actually bring any of my bags upstairs.
Yeah, it was kind of an odd re-entry. But comical. At least for me (not for the cat).
Oh, and this morning before I ran to the grocery store for some milk, I stopped by the cafe that's around the corner from our house (and run by some friends who love Italy and Italian coffee), and I taught the gals working there how to make my new favorite coffee drink. I'll have to teach our friends, the owners, so they can add it to the menu. Seriously. I'm not sure I can live without at least the occasional marocchino for too long! Hey, if I can't be in Italy, I'll bring as much of Italy home with me as possible...
I'm going to spend tomorrow morning doing a few household chores and unpacking, my mom's going to come up for a visit in the afternoon, and I'm going to relax in my PJs and maybe not leave my house all day. Then on Sunday I have to drive to SeaTac airport to pick up Chris. That's as far as he could get on Sunday (they were going to have him stay overnight up there and fly him to Portland on Monday - no thanks). I'm not looking forward to the road trip by myself on the way up, especially if I'm still jetlaggy. Anyone wanna come with??
It was extremely hard to leave Italy yesterday; the whole process of packing and taking the train to the airport was just plain depressing. Now, it is nice to be in my own home surrounded by my stuff and to have my cats around (that last part is especially nice), but I could have my own stuff and my cats moved to Italy. So that isn't enough of a lure to stay here. No, moving to Italy is still very much something I want to do, so we'll see how it all works out.
On a lighter note, when I got home last night the garage light was on. I thought that was odd. Then I saw there was a note from our house-sitter extraordinaire on the door, saying one of the cats was in the garage. (They're indoor cats, and not supposed to get into the garage, even.) She said he'd gotten in there just that evening as she was taking out the garbage, and he was too quick for her. He hadn't responded to her attempts to get him back inside, so I spent the first 20 minutes of being home lying on the floor of my garage trying to convince my cat to come out from under Chris' car. He finally did, and when I scooped him I up I realized his paws were kind of oily. Lovely. So then I spent the next 15 minutes washing off my cat's paws (he really didn't love me very much at that point) in a locked bathroom so he couldn't get away and get oily cat footprints all over our cream-colored carpets. Then, and only then, did I actually bring any of my bags upstairs.
Yeah, it was kind of an odd re-entry. But comical. At least for me (not for the cat).
Oh, and this morning before I ran to the grocery store for some milk, I stopped by the cafe that's around the corner from our house (and run by some friends who love Italy and Italian coffee), and I taught the gals working there how to make my new favorite coffee drink. I'll have to teach our friends, the owners, so they can add it to the menu. Seriously. I'm not sure I can live without at least the occasional marocchino for too long! Hey, if I can't be in Italy, I'll bring as much of Italy home with me as possible...
I'm going to spend tomorrow morning doing a few household chores and unpacking, my mom's going to come up for a visit in the afternoon, and I'm going to relax in my PJs and maybe not leave my house all day. Then on Sunday I have to drive to SeaTac airport to pick up Chris. That's as far as he could get on Sunday (they were going to have him stay overnight up there and fly him to Portland on Monday - no thanks). I'm not looking forward to the road trip by myself on the way up, especially if I'm still jetlaggy. Anyone wanna come with??
26 March 2008
BootsnAll Bloopers Video
At BootsnAll we've been doing lots of videos over the last few months, recording stuff in our basement mini-TV studio and putting it up on the video section of BootsnAll. As you can imagine, Ethan (the man who's usually behind the camera) has collected lots of bloopers and outtakes over this time, which he actually edited together into one three-minute video.
Now, if you don't know anyone at BootsnAll, this may not be terribly amusing to you. But I've watched it twice now and giggled myself silly. I work with some funny guys.
For reference, featured in this video are:
Sean - BootsnAll CEO, co-founder & company mascot
Chris - BootsnAll co-founder, design guru & resident Aussie whose mind goes blank for a second
Ethan - BootsnAll video expert who's apparently struggling with an ear hair issue
Mika - BootsnAll business (or biz-natch) development
Hayden - BootsnAll marketing guy who is told no one cares about his family
Roger - BootsnAll writer who brings his own lighting to the DMV
and me!
Now, if you don't know anyone at BootsnAll, this may not be terribly amusing to you. But I've watched it twice now and giggled myself silly. I work with some funny guys.
For reference, featured in this video are:
Sean - BootsnAll CEO, co-founder & company mascot
Chris - BootsnAll co-founder, design guru & resident Aussie whose mind goes blank for a second
Ethan - BootsnAll video expert who's apparently struggling with an ear hair issue
Mika - BootsnAll business (or biz-natch) development
Hayden - BootsnAll marketing guy who is told no one cares about his family
Roger - BootsnAll writer who brings his own lighting to the DMV
and me!
25 March 2008
Where did I leave off?
I know, I know - it was ages ago. I'm a bad blogger. And I haven't uploaded pictures to Flickr for awhile, either. Sorry about that - I'm trying to maintain two Flickr accounts, and I'm obviously not doing a very good job of that! As it happens, maintaining two blogs is a bit difficult, too. I hope you'll forgive me.
It's Tuesday afternoon in Milan, and I head back to Oregon on Thursday. I'm not ready. I don't want to go back yet. Despite some things I'd like to change about my living situation here (bigger apartment, better plumbing, having my cats here) and the situation overall (Chris with a job here, us being able to be here legally and permanently), it's been an excellent trip and I still very much like Italy and the idea of living in Italy. We both do. It could have gone either way, of course, with either one of us deciding after six weeks of living in Italy that this was a bad idea of colossal proportions and what were we thinking in the first place? Both of us could have come to that conclusion as well. But we didn't. We both still love it here, and we want to come back ASAP.
That's easier said than done, unfortunately.
We have been presented with some options, which include getting an autonomous work visa for me and then a family visa for Chris, but there are serious downsides to doing that (not least of which is the personal cost we'd have to shoulder). We can also come back for up to three months on a normal tourist visa, during which time Chris can be once again looking for work. But at some point the looking for work has to turn into actually getting a position, and that's the tough part. There's no doubt in either of our minds that it'll happen, it's a question of time and presence - things tend to happen more slowly here, and it'll be hard for Chris to get a job if he's looking from across an ocean. So, even though we have options, there is (as yet) no perfect solution. Except, of course, if Chris gets a job offer!
About an hour ago we looked at our first apartment here in Milan - it was mostly a test run, to start to get a feel for the real estate system here (it's so different from the US, I don't know where to start). It was a decent apartment, but just like with cars you don't want to take the first one you see. And of course we can't really take anything right now, either. It's all this big circular thing that's very difficult to enter as a foreigner. In order to get Piece A you need Piece B, and in order to get Piece B you need Piece C. But in order to get Piece C, it seems you need Piece A. Frankly, I'm not surprised so many people come and stay here illegally - the system is so challenging to penetrate.
At any rate, this six weeks has simply flown by, and this time next week both Chris and I will be back in Oregon, trying to figure out our next steps. No telling what happens next, folks.
It's Tuesday afternoon in Milan, and I head back to Oregon on Thursday. I'm not ready. I don't want to go back yet. Despite some things I'd like to change about my living situation here (bigger apartment, better plumbing, having my cats here) and the situation overall (Chris with a job here, us being able to be here legally and permanently), it's been an excellent trip and I still very much like Italy and the idea of living in Italy. We both do. It could have gone either way, of course, with either one of us deciding after six weeks of living in Italy that this was a bad idea of colossal proportions and what were we thinking in the first place? Both of us could have come to that conclusion as well. But we didn't. We both still love it here, and we want to come back ASAP.
That's easier said than done, unfortunately.
We have been presented with some options, which include getting an autonomous work visa for me and then a family visa for Chris, but there are serious downsides to doing that (not least of which is the personal cost we'd have to shoulder). We can also come back for up to three months on a normal tourist visa, during which time Chris can be once again looking for work. But at some point the looking for work has to turn into actually getting a position, and that's the tough part. There's no doubt in either of our minds that it'll happen, it's a question of time and presence - things tend to happen more slowly here, and it'll be hard for Chris to get a job if he's looking from across an ocean. So, even though we have options, there is (as yet) no perfect solution. Except, of course, if Chris gets a job offer!
About an hour ago we looked at our first apartment here in Milan - it was mostly a test run, to start to get a feel for the real estate system here (it's so different from the US, I don't know where to start). It was a decent apartment, but just like with cars you don't want to take the first one you see. And of course we can't really take anything right now, either. It's all this big circular thing that's very difficult to enter as a foreigner. In order to get Piece A you need Piece B, and in order to get Piece B you need Piece C. But in order to get Piece C, it seems you need Piece A. Frankly, I'm not surprised so many people come and stay here illegally - the system is so challenging to penetrate.
At any rate, this six weeks has simply flown by, and this time next week both Chris and I will be back in Oregon, trying to figure out our next steps. No telling what happens next, folks.
17 March 2008
Heading "Home" Tomorrow
I'm now on my last full day in Florence; I've got one (possibly two) more quick work-related stops to make here tomorrow morning, and then I'm going to get on the next train to head "home" - back to Milan. I'll probably have to grab one last gelato here, though, before I go back. The gelato really is extraordinarily good in Florence.
It's funny, I've been calling the Milan apartment "home" now for awhile, mostly in conversations with Chris, but it hasn't been a purposeful thing. It just feels so comfortable here, it's hard to not think of it as home already. I can't believe I've been here nearly a month already - this is the longest trip I've taken since my four-month study abroad in college, during which I felt serious pangs of homesickness regularly. This time, no homesickness. Sure, I miss my family, my friends, my cats - and yet I don't feel the usual "I wanna go home" thing that I usually do after a couple weeks of vacation. I've been so busy during much of this trip, that may be part of the reason for my lack of homesickness, but I'm not sure. It could also be that the immediacy of things like email and Skype make the world seem much smaller than it used to, too. I'm in regular contact with most of the same people I communicate with regularly back home in Oregon, so it doesn't feel like I'm an ocean away.
That's not to say this has been easy, however. I've gotten better at the whole "travel writer" thing as the trip has progressed, and I feel more comfortable in my role... And it's a job that really wears me out. I've crammed a lot of it into this trip, with visits to Venice, Rome and Florence in the space of three weeks (something I wouldn't try to do again if I could help it!), and if I lived here in Italy I'd definitely space these trips out more so that I had time to recuperate between them. I'm proud to report, however, that I've gotten a lot done, even if I feel like I could sleep for a week as a result of it!
At this point, I'm really looking forward to being back in Milan in our cozy apartment, where I can relax all day (well, while working at the computer, of course, but not running around visiting hostels and hotels, anyway), do laundry, and not eat out for every meal. As much as I love Florence (and I really love Florence), I'm going to be happy to be back on a train to Milan tomorrow. At the moment, however, I'm not sure how I'm going to feel about having to get on a plane back to the US about a week later...
It's funny, I've been calling the Milan apartment "home" now for awhile, mostly in conversations with Chris, but it hasn't been a purposeful thing. It just feels so comfortable here, it's hard to not think of it as home already. I can't believe I've been here nearly a month already - this is the longest trip I've taken since my four-month study abroad in college, during which I felt serious pangs of homesickness regularly. This time, no homesickness. Sure, I miss my family, my friends, my cats - and yet I don't feel the usual "I wanna go home" thing that I usually do after a couple weeks of vacation. I've been so busy during much of this trip, that may be part of the reason for my lack of homesickness, but I'm not sure. It could also be that the immediacy of things like email and Skype make the world seem much smaller than it used to, too. I'm in regular contact with most of the same people I communicate with regularly back home in Oregon, so it doesn't feel like I'm an ocean away.
That's not to say this has been easy, however. I've gotten better at the whole "travel writer" thing as the trip has progressed, and I feel more comfortable in my role... And it's a job that really wears me out. I've crammed a lot of it into this trip, with visits to Venice, Rome and Florence in the space of three weeks (something I wouldn't try to do again if I could help it!), and if I lived here in Italy I'd definitely space these trips out more so that I had time to recuperate between them. I'm proud to report, however, that I've gotten a lot done, even if I feel like I could sleep for a week as a result of it!
At this point, I'm really looking forward to being back in Milan in our cozy apartment, where I can relax all day (well, while working at the computer, of course, but not running around visiting hostels and hotels, anyway), do laundry, and not eat out for every meal. As much as I love Florence (and I really love Florence), I'm going to be happy to be back on a train to Milan tomorrow. At the moment, however, I'm not sure how I'm going to feel about having to get on a plane back to the US about a week later...
13 March 2008
Rome is Exhausting Me
I'm on my last full day in Rome (I leave for Florence tomorrow morning), and I have to say that I'm kind of glad about that. This city absolutely exhausts me. Of course, I walked all over hell's half acre yesterday, which contributed to that exhaustion, but there's also a tiredness of a different kind that I seem to get in Rome. It could just be me, but I feel like I always have to be hyper-aware of my surroundings, always have one eye open (and when I've got a giant camera in my face and I'm taking photographs, that's tough), always have my hand on my purse... It's partly because I'm traveling alone right now - normally Chris is around to keep an eye out as I'm blissfully ignoring the world and taking photos - but I can't help but think it's also partly this city.
The first time I visited Rome, I was absolutely knackered after only three days, and yet I was kind of surprised to find that I feel roughly the same way this time. I thought that with a few years of Italian language classes under my belt (not to mention more overall Italian travel experience) I'd be more able to handle Rome. And I do feel much more confident here than I did last time - I've gotten myself all over the place via the bus and walking, not asking directions or getting lost, and that counts for something in my book. But I can't help it... I'm just not built for Rome. I appreciate it (how could you not?), but I'm longing for a city on a smaller scale, a city that doesn't seem poised to eat me alive every time I step out the door. In short, I'm really looking forward to getting to Florence, a city I dearly love.
Rome, it's nothing personal. I think you're a fabulous city, overflowing with history and with oodles to offer, but I guess I can only handle you in small doses. So, no hard feelings, okay? I'll be back. I promise.
The first time I visited Rome, I was absolutely knackered after only three days, and yet I was kind of surprised to find that I feel roughly the same way this time. I thought that with a few years of Italian language classes under my belt (not to mention more overall Italian travel experience) I'd be more able to handle Rome. And I do feel much more confident here than I did last time - I've gotten myself all over the place via the bus and walking, not asking directions or getting lost, and that counts for something in my book. But I can't help it... I'm just not built for Rome. I appreciate it (how could you not?), but I'm longing for a city on a smaller scale, a city that doesn't seem poised to eat me alive every time I step out the door. In short, I'm really looking forward to getting to Florence, a city I dearly love.
Rome, it's nothing personal. I think you're a fabulous city, overflowing with history and with oodles to offer, but I guess I can only handle you in small doses. So, no hard feelings, okay? I'll be back. I promise.
10 March 2008
What kind of geek are you?
At the end of February I attended a Girl Geek Dinner in Milan; I'd been totally unfamiliar with the whole GGD phenomenon prior to that night - I signed up to go because a friend of mine was helping to organize it, and because I work for a web-based company in which I'm one of the only girls in the office. But I'm far from a techie (despite what my mother might think). So I was interested when the founder of Girl Geek Dinners stood up and introduced herself, saying that her definition of the word "geek" was much broader than what most people thought of when they heard the word. That got me thinking.
The GGD founder, Sarah Blow, says that to her, the word "geek" just implies someone who's totally passionate and knowledgeable about something, whatever it is. She said that she thinks my friend, Sara, who was one of the GGD Italia organizers, is a "food geek." Sara's blog is partly about living in Italy, partly about traveling in and outside Italy, but it's almost always about food. She regularly experiements in her home kitchen and publishes recipes, complete with her own gorgeous photography (some of her fans call it "food porn"). When she travels or tries some new food item even in Italy, she usually reports on it (again, with more photos). She's got a collection of posts about the best places to get gelato in Italy and elsewhere, a great post about how to order a coffee in Italy, and an introduction to Italian candies. So, in the eyes of Sarah Blow, that makes Sara a food geek.
I've been thinking about that ever since, and I've been trying to figure out what kind of geek I am. I suppose I'm a travel geek to some extent, and an Italy geek, but I'm certainly not an expert on either subject. I think this is one of those things where it's hard to objectively judge your own label, because you almost know yourself too well to be objective. So, I'm asking two questions here, in case anyone feels like answering...
What kind of geek do you think I am?
and
What kind of geek are you?
The GGD founder, Sarah Blow, says that to her, the word "geek" just implies someone who's totally passionate and knowledgeable about something, whatever it is. She said that she thinks my friend, Sara, who was one of the GGD Italia organizers, is a "food geek." Sara's blog is partly about living in Italy, partly about traveling in and outside Italy, but it's almost always about food. She regularly experiements in her home kitchen and publishes recipes, complete with her own gorgeous photography (some of her fans call it "food porn"). When she travels or tries some new food item even in Italy, she usually reports on it (again, with more photos). She's got a collection of posts about the best places to get gelato in Italy and elsewhere, a great post about how to order a coffee in Italy, and an introduction to Italian candies. So, in the eyes of Sarah Blow, that makes Sara a food geek.
I've been thinking about that ever since, and I've been trying to figure out what kind of geek I am. I suppose I'm a travel geek to some extent, and an Italy geek, but I'm certainly not an expert on either subject. I think this is one of those things where it's hard to objectively judge your own label, because you almost know yourself too well to be objective. So, I'm asking two questions here, in case anyone feels like answering...
What kind of geek do you think I am?
and
What kind of geek are you?
07 March 2008
Fame Spotting
Milan is one of those cities I guess you can expect to see the odd famous person now and then - if for no other reason than they're swinging through Gucci or Armani HQ on their way through Europe. To date, here are the famous people we've seen (or we're at least pretty damned sure we've seen):
Lenny Kravitz - Seen with an unidentified woman having a coffee sitting at an outdoor cafe table near the Duomo; he played the Sanremo Music Festival the next day. At the time, I thought, "Wow, that guy looks an awful lot like Lenny Kravitz," assuming it couldn't possibly be him. It wasn't until he took the stage at Sanremo (roughly 260km from Milan) that I thought, "Wow, that was Lenny Kravitz!"
Silvio Berlusconi - Seen getting into a car in Turin (roughly 140km from Milan). I actually only saw the top of his little bald head, but Chris (the tall one) was able to see that it was, indeed Berlusconi. Silvio may only be famous in Italy, but for those who don't know he's been the Prime Minister a couple times and is currently running again. He's also been under investigation for any number of things (I can't keep track, and I'm not sure most Italians can, either) and is, in my everso humble opinion, a scumbag.
Antonio Banderas & Liam Neeson - Seen walking through Milan's Galleria and going into the Prada store. There was a big film camera set up at one end of the Galleria, and Chris looked it up later online and discovered the pair are in town filming a movie right now. But honestly, we couldn't tell if they were actually filming something at that precise moment or just going shopping. It looked more like the latter. Chris (again, the tall one) took the camera and tried to get a few shots of them leaving the store (he was the only one of us who could see above the throng that had gathered outside the store, where no less than five people asked me who was inside), but he learned that being a paparazzo is actually kind of difficult, what with all the jostling and such. I'll say this about Antonio and Liam - the former is short, the latter is tall.
Laura Linney - Seen walking by herself down a street near the Duomo. Now, at the time, I thought, "Wow, that woman looks an awful lot like Laura Linney." But I figured I was dreaming. (I should know better now, after the Infamous Kravitz Sighting of 2008.) Then when Chris looked up the Banderas/Neeson sighting online, he said Laura Linney was also in town filming the same movie. So, who knows? Maybe it actually was Laura Linney I saw walking like an average human being through central Milan.
Lenny Kravitz - Seen with an unidentified woman having a coffee sitting at an outdoor cafe table near the Duomo; he played the Sanremo Music Festival the next day. At the time, I thought, "Wow, that guy looks an awful lot like Lenny Kravitz," assuming it couldn't possibly be him. It wasn't until he took the stage at Sanremo (roughly 260km from Milan) that I thought, "Wow, that was Lenny Kravitz!"
Silvio Berlusconi - Seen getting into a car in Turin (roughly 140km from Milan). I actually only saw the top of his little bald head, but Chris (the tall one) was able to see that it was, indeed Berlusconi. Silvio may only be famous in Italy, but for those who don't know he's been the Prime Minister a couple times and is currently running again. He's also been under investigation for any number of things (I can't keep track, and I'm not sure most Italians can, either) and is, in my everso humble opinion, a scumbag.
Antonio Banderas & Liam Neeson - Seen walking through Milan's Galleria and going into the Prada store. There was a big film camera set up at one end of the Galleria, and Chris looked it up later online and discovered the pair are in town filming a movie right now. But honestly, we couldn't tell if they were actually filming something at that precise moment or just going shopping. It looked more like the latter. Chris (again, the tall one) took the camera and tried to get a few shots of them leaving the store (he was the only one of us who could see above the throng that had gathered outside the store, where no less than five people asked me who was inside), but he learned that being a paparazzo is actually kind of difficult, what with all the jostling and such. I'll say this about Antonio and Liam - the former is short, the latter is tall.
Laura Linney - Seen walking by herself down a street near the Duomo. Now, at the time, I thought, "Wow, that woman looks an awful lot like Laura Linney." But I figured I was dreaming. (I should know better now, after the Infamous Kravitz Sighting of 2008.) Then when Chris looked up the Banderas/Neeson sighting online, he said Laura Linney was also in town filming the same movie. So, who knows? Maybe it actually was Laura Linney I saw walking like an average human being through central Milan.
05 March 2008
Seeing Double
Just in case any of you are following the Italy Logue as well, you'll probably recognize something I posted here first appearing on the Italy Logue in the next week or so. I've gotten enough comments from people on my "Becoming a Regular" post that I'm going to put it on the Italy Logue as well. I just didn't want any of you to think you were going crazy...
04 March 2008
Venice & Turin Photos
Who said it could be March already? This trip is already feeling almost over - I just didn't realize how quickly six weeks could go by, but when I'm looking at a calendar and already have plans for trips to Rome and Florence coming up (after which I'll only have a week or so left before I fly home), it feels like time is just slipping away from me.
At any rate, Venice was amazing last week - despite the ferocious cold - and I can't stop thinking about that city. I can't quite put my finger on what it is about the place that so captivates me, although I keep trying. If I figure it out, I'll let you know. Until then, if I keep rhapsodizing about it, you'll have to forgive me.
Chris & I went to a dinner on Friday night which was organized partly by our friend Sara from Ms. Adventures in Italy. It was a "Girl Geek Dinner," though there were boys in attendance as well (no, Chris didn't have to wear a dress). We were both exhausted from the previous few days - Chris from prepping for and then teaching his second class here in Milan, me from a few whirlwind days in Venice and too-little sleep on Thursday night - so we weren't the social butterflies we might otherwise have been, but it was fun. We then kind of took Saturday off, sleeping in until something like 10:30 and doing not-much all day. We did go to our first Italian soccer game on Saturday night, which was fun - except my favorite guy didn't play (boo-hoo) and the home team just barely tied the game against a team they should have beaten. So, at least for me, I'm not really counting that game as having happened and I'm hoping we get to see another where my guy actually sets foot on the field. (Yes, that's more important than the team actually winning, at least in my book.)
Sunday we got up early-ish and caught the train to Turin (site of the 2006 winter Olympics) where we visited the final day of the Cioccolatò festival. It's a smaller chocolate festival than some others, including the big one in Perugia every October, but it was really fun - and the weather was spectacular. (That's a picture of chocolate "sausages" and chocolate "eggs" at the top of this post.) It was summer-like, and we both walked around in T-shirts, quite comfortably. After breathing in all the chocolate air, we wandered over to the museum of the Shroud of Turin for a tour and then headed back to Milan. It was a lovely day spent wandering around a lovely city. I'd be quite happy to spend more time in Turin, and if Chris found work there that'd be just fine with me.
So - if you check the Flickr set for this trip, you'll see I've added a whole bunch of new pictures, from Venice, the soccer game, and Turin. Chris has a bunch of sticky-notes on the wall next to our dining table/desk with things we want to do while we're here, and we've only completed two of the 12+ items on the list - so if all goes well, you'll have lots more photos to look through very soon.
Hope all's well with all of you!
At any rate, Venice was amazing last week - despite the ferocious cold - and I can't stop thinking about that city. I can't quite put my finger on what it is about the place that so captivates me, although I keep trying. If I figure it out, I'll let you know. Until then, if I keep rhapsodizing about it, you'll have to forgive me.
Chris & I went to a dinner on Friday night which was organized partly by our friend Sara from Ms. Adventures in Italy. It was a "Girl Geek Dinner," though there were boys in attendance as well (no, Chris didn't have to wear a dress). We were both exhausted from the previous few days - Chris from prepping for and then teaching his second class here in Milan, me from a few whirlwind days in Venice and too-little sleep on Thursday night - so we weren't the social butterflies we might otherwise have been, but it was fun. We then kind of took Saturday off, sleeping in until something like 10:30 and doing not-much all day. We did go to our first Italian soccer game on Saturday night, which was fun - except my favorite guy didn't play (boo-hoo) and the home team just barely tied the game against a team they should have beaten. So, at least for me, I'm not really counting that game as having happened and I'm hoping we get to see another where my guy actually sets foot on the field. (Yes, that's more important than the team actually winning, at least in my book.)
Sunday we got up early-ish and caught the train to Turin (site of the 2006 winter Olympics) where we visited the final day of the Cioccolatò festival. It's a smaller chocolate festival than some others, including the big one in Perugia every October, but it was really fun - and the weather was spectacular. (That's a picture of chocolate "sausages" and chocolate "eggs" at the top of this post.) It was summer-like, and we both walked around in T-shirts, quite comfortably. After breathing in all the chocolate air, we wandered over to the museum of the Shroud of Turin for a tour and then headed back to Milan. It was a lovely day spent wandering around a lovely city. I'd be quite happy to spend more time in Turin, and if Chris found work there that'd be just fine with me.
So - if you check the Flickr set for this trip, you'll see I've added a whole bunch of new pictures, from Venice, the soccer game, and Turin. Chris has a bunch of sticky-notes on the wall next to our dining table/desk with things we want to do while we're here, and we've only completed two of the 12+ items on the list - so if all goes well, you'll have lots more photos to look through very soon.
Hope all's well with all of you!
01 March 2008
Becoming a Regular
For some reason, when I travel I like to get it in my head that visiting the same (fill in the blank) twice in one visit makes me a regular. It could be a news stand, cafe, restaurant, clothing shop - whatever. If I go more than once I feel like there's the possibility I'll be recognized by the people working there from my previous visit, thereby making me a regular. It's a silly notion, but I cling to it and it makes me happy. Usually it's nothing more than an illusion, of course.
On this last trip to Venice, however, I think I became something more akin to a regular than I've ever managed to do on any other trips here or anywhere else. I went to the same restaurant two nights in a row, and because I was dining alone on both occasions I ended up chatting amiably both with the fellow running the tiny dining room (along with others who worked there) and some of the other diners. I'd introduced myself on the first night with my business card, and said I was a travel writer (long after I'd already ordered and eaten most of my meal, I should mention), and in so doing found my table crowded with tiny plates of samples of dishes I hadn't ordered. They called me Signorina Jessica all night long, and it was delightful. Was it anything more than them just being stereotypically flirty Italian men? Maybe not. And when you're traveling alone there are times when you just don't care about the "why," as long as someone is keeping you company.
When I went back the second night they recognized me and called me by name, which instantly made me smile. I let Stefano, the maitre-d' of sorts, order for me and didn't even end up reading much of the book I'd brought with me, because not long after I finished my first course, a pair of gentlemen arrived who were friends of the owners (they shouted "Il Sindaco!" - the mayor - when the two walked in, but I don't know which one they were referring to and it was a joke anyway) and were seated beside me. As he seated them, Stefano introduced them to me and told them in Italian to behave themselves (he then leaned in to me and said, in English, "But we can talk about them, because I don't think they speak English."). I chatted with them most of the evening, entirely in Italian, and had a wonderful time. Claudio, Giorgio and I talked about politics (both here in Italy and back in the US), music, travel and, most of all, Italy.
I had arrived on the second night later than on the first, and because things in Venice close up earlier than in most other touristy cities, I was there at 10:30 or 11 when the restaurant staff sat down in the other dining room to eat their dinner. I was there when they pulled down the metal gates outside the windows, and then - because Claudio and Giorgio had given me some of their wine (on top of the wine I'd ordered for myself) as well as a small glass (though not small enough!) of Scotch, and because Stefano had poured me a taste of Sambuca - Stefano offered to walk me back to my hotel so that I wouldn't fall into a canal.
The fog, which had finally broken a bit in the late afternoon to let a few rays of sunlight dance on the water, had rushed back in with the night and was clinging to everything and everyone. Stefano, a native Venetian, took me a different way back to my hotel by way of St. Mark's Square - and the fog was so thick that standing in front of the Basilica di San Marco it was impossible to see either the church's incredible onion domes or the top of the adjacent bell tower. The piazza and the streets were all but empty, and the city was - if this is even possible - even more hauntingly beautiful than it usually is. I think I fell in love with Venice a little more at that very moment, something I also didn't think was possible.
I couldn't linger, though, because I was exhausted and absolutely freezing, so Stefano walked me to my hotel's door and gave me a kiss on each cheek. I promised him I'd come back to the restaurant the next time I was in Venice, but there's just no telling when that'll be. Honestly, I'm not sure it even matters, though, because now I'm a regular.
On this last trip to Venice, however, I think I became something more akin to a regular than I've ever managed to do on any other trips here or anywhere else. I went to the same restaurant two nights in a row, and because I was dining alone on both occasions I ended up chatting amiably both with the fellow running the tiny dining room (along with others who worked there) and some of the other diners. I'd introduced myself on the first night with my business card, and said I was a travel writer (long after I'd already ordered and eaten most of my meal, I should mention), and in so doing found my table crowded with tiny plates of samples of dishes I hadn't ordered. They called me Signorina Jessica all night long, and it was delightful. Was it anything more than them just being stereotypically flirty Italian men? Maybe not. And when you're traveling alone there are times when you just don't care about the "why," as long as someone is keeping you company.
When I went back the second night they recognized me and called me by name, which instantly made me smile. I let Stefano, the maitre-d' of sorts, order for me and didn't even end up reading much of the book I'd brought with me, because not long after I finished my first course, a pair of gentlemen arrived who were friends of the owners (they shouted "Il Sindaco!" - the mayor - when the two walked in, but I don't know which one they were referring to and it was a joke anyway) and were seated beside me. As he seated them, Stefano introduced them to me and told them in Italian to behave themselves (he then leaned in to me and said, in English, "But we can talk about them, because I don't think they speak English."). I chatted with them most of the evening, entirely in Italian, and had a wonderful time. Claudio, Giorgio and I talked about politics (both here in Italy and back in the US), music, travel and, most of all, Italy.
I had arrived on the second night later than on the first, and because things in Venice close up earlier than in most other touristy cities, I was there at 10:30 or 11 when the restaurant staff sat down in the other dining room to eat their dinner. I was there when they pulled down the metal gates outside the windows, and then - because Claudio and Giorgio had given me some of their wine (on top of the wine I'd ordered for myself) as well as a small glass (though not small enough!) of Scotch, and because Stefano had poured me a taste of Sambuca - Stefano offered to walk me back to my hotel so that I wouldn't fall into a canal.
The fog, which had finally broken a bit in the late afternoon to let a few rays of sunlight dance on the water, had rushed back in with the night and was clinging to everything and everyone. Stefano, a native Venetian, took me a different way back to my hotel by way of St. Mark's Square - and the fog was so thick that standing in front of the Basilica di San Marco it was impossible to see either the church's incredible onion domes or the top of the adjacent bell tower. The piazza and the streets were all but empty, and the city was - if this is even possible - even more hauntingly beautiful than it usually is. I think I fell in love with Venice a little more at that very moment, something I also didn't think was possible.
I couldn't linger, though, because I was exhausted and absolutely freezing, so Stefano walked me to my hotel's door and gave me a kiss on each cheek. I promised him I'd come back to the restaurant the next time I was in Venice, but there's just no telling when that'll be. Honestly, I'm not sure it even matters, though, because now I'm a regular.
Cold in Venice
I wrote this while in Venice earlier this week, though I've now returned to Milan:
When I left Milan on Tuesday morning, it was the same weather we've been having for a week now - chilly in the shade, but in the sun it'd be downright pleasant. I went out without a coat the other day, in fact, and wasn't cold. It's pretty cold at night, of course, but during the day it's really nice to be outside. I had checked the weather reports for Venice before I left, and although the temperatures were a little bit lower, when I packed my bag I didn't factor in one important thing: the fog.
It's friggin' cold here, folks.
The famous Milan fog hasn't really hung around much since we arrived, but it was pretty foggy this morning when I left. And as the train rolled toward Venice the fog never seemed to lift. Then, as the train turned from Venice's mainland station to make the trip across the water to the station on the island itself, the fog actually seemed to get thicker. As soon as I got off the train in my rain jacket I wished I'd brought my down coat - even though it's supposed to rain here for two of the three days I'm here. (Yes, it's actually supposed to get more damp and cold.)
Now, it's February, so I didn't expect warm temperatures. But I didn't expect it to be quite this cold, and the kind of cold that goes straight to your bones. Venice isn't a museum city as far as I'm concerned, because the best thing to do here is just to wander and get lost in the alleyways, but I might seek out a few museums anyway...
Another thing I didn't expect at this time of year is the number of tourists. It's far less than there are in the summer, but the line to get onto the main tourist line bus/boat was long, and my boat was full nearly the whole trip. Piazza San Marco was crowded when I arrived, although as I walked back to my hotel for the last time that night around 7:45pm the piazza had almost entirely cleared out. It was gorgeous in the fog, but I didn't linger.
Seriously, my teeth were chattering.
We'll see what happens - I may have to buy myself a sweater, gloves and a hat. Or I'll just have to duck into lots of museums and cafes. Neither one sounds too terribly bad, now that I think about it.
More about my 3.5 days in Venice later, along with photos!
When I left Milan on Tuesday morning, it was the same weather we've been having for a week now - chilly in the shade, but in the sun it'd be downright pleasant. I went out without a coat the other day, in fact, and wasn't cold. It's pretty cold at night, of course, but during the day it's really nice to be outside. I had checked the weather reports for Venice before I left, and although the temperatures were a little bit lower, when I packed my bag I didn't factor in one important thing: the fog.
It's friggin' cold here, folks.
The famous Milan fog hasn't really hung around much since we arrived, but it was pretty foggy this morning when I left. And as the train rolled toward Venice the fog never seemed to lift. Then, as the train turned from Venice's mainland station to make the trip across the water to the station on the island itself, the fog actually seemed to get thicker. As soon as I got off the train in my rain jacket I wished I'd brought my down coat - even though it's supposed to rain here for two of the three days I'm here. (Yes, it's actually supposed to get more damp and cold.)
Now, it's February, so I didn't expect warm temperatures. But I didn't expect it to be quite this cold, and the kind of cold that goes straight to your bones. Venice isn't a museum city as far as I'm concerned, because the best thing to do here is just to wander and get lost in the alleyways, but I might seek out a few museums anyway...
Another thing I didn't expect at this time of year is the number of tourists. It's far less than there are in the summer, but the line to get onto the main tourist line bus/boat was long, and my boat was full nearly the whole trip. Piazza San Marco was crowded when I arrived, although as I walked back to my hotel for the last time that night around 7:45pm the piazza had almost entirely cleared out. It was gorgeous in the fog, but I didn't linger.
Seriously, my teeth were chattering.
We'll see what happens - I may have to buy myself a sweater, gloves and a hat. Or I'll just have to duck into lots of museums and cafes. Neither one sounds too terribly bad, now that I think about it.
More about my 3.5 days in Venice later, along with photos!
24 February 2008
Trip Photos (So Far)
That's a picture of our doorbell here in Milan, and you can see the pictures I've taken so far (well, some of them, anyway) - including pictures of our apartment - in this new set on Flickr. I'll keep adding to that set as I go, too.
Chris and I went to the Pinacoteca Brera today, an art museum in central Milan. It was fairly interesting, even despite there being no descriptions written in English anywhere (we could have rented an audio guide, but we opted not to - it was fine, because we could read most of what we wanted on the Italian descriptions, but I felt badly for other visitors who don't speak the language).
We also found a pasticceria close to our apartment which is too expensive to visit often, but the proprietors were so incredibly nice that we'll have to make a point to go back anyway. The woman running the place came out to invite us inside when we were looking at the window display, and Chris made friends with her instantly by kissing her cheeks when she asked if he was a native Italian (he was speaking Italian and said we were from America, but she thought we must have been Italian originally because he was speaking Italian). It was incredibly sweet, and it's just that kind of thing that makes me smile here.
Chris and I went to the Pinacoteca Brera today, an art museum in central Milan. It was fairly interesting, even despite there being no descriptions written in English anywhere (we could have rented an audio guide, but we opted not to - it was fine, because we could read most of what we wanted on the Italian descriptions, but I felt badly for other visitors who don't speak the language).
We also found a pasticceria close to our apartment which is too expensive to visit often, but the proprietors were so incredibly nice that we'll have to make a point to go back anyway. The woman running the place came out to invite us inside when we were looking at the window display, and Chris made friends with her instantly by kissing her cheeks when she asked if he was a native Italian (he was speaking Italian and said we were from America, but she thought we must have been Italian originally because he was speaking Italian). It was incredibly sweet, and it's just that kind of thing that makes me smile here.
23 February 2008
All Moved In
We moved into the apartment today, and it's really cute. Just like in the photos. I took a few pictures inside, and will take some of the exterior as well. I'll let you know when they're posted. We're both tired after a few busy and intense days, but we're going to head out shortly for something to eat. We did go grocery shopping earlier, but we don't really have the energy to cook anything tonight... Tomorrow, yes. And then for the next five and a half weeks, often. Tonight, we'll let someone else do the cooking.
22 February 2008
Eagles Breakfast Soundtrack, and Other Milano Notes
Just a couple more notes from our trip thus far:
* The hotel we're in (until tomorrow, when we can finally get into the apartment - YAY!) is one of those that offers breakfast included with your stay. It's the standard breakfast bar you find in these places - cereals, juices, some tired-looking pastries and a few trays of sliced meat and cheese. This breakfast room, however, offers something different - an Eagles Greatest Hits soundtrack on a constant loop. The last three days we've gone in there, it's been the same thing. We can't figure out if it's someone's new favorite CD, if they are forced to play it or if the CD is stuck in the machine. Either way, it's kind of funny. I might actually miss the Eagles breakfast soundtrack in a few days. Or not.
* I've had a couple espresso drinks in the last two days, with no ill effects! As some of you know, coffee tends to do a number on my gastro-intestinal system, so that the after-meal coffee or breakfast coffee that's so typical in Italy has always been something I can't partake in. Which is kind of a bummer. The last two days, though, I've been feeling reckless (or stupid, I dunno), and have had two coffees - espresso normale both times, which is just a straight shot of espresso in a tiny little cup - with no sudden need to spend hours in the loo. That, my friends, makes me feel like Italy and I are becoming even better friends, and that makes me quite happy. (And I hope I haven't just jinxed myself.)
* We just came back from wandering through the Navigli neighborhood in the southwestern part of Milan, and on the tram ride back we passed a pet store - it's only about 4 blocks from the hotel, so I may try to buzz over there this afternoon while Chris is out at meetings. I just want to get a look at the kinds of things that are in pet stores here as opposed to at home - I know one expat blogger whose cats hate Italian cat treats, so her mother sends American cat treats to her "grand-cats" every so often. I know both my mom and my mother-in-law would probably be happy to do that, but it'd be nice if our cats actually liked what was on offer here, too. I'm going to bring home some cat treats so they can try them, but might not buy anything just yet.
* I got a note from the guy in Venice who is helping out with my accommodations for my travels, and he sent me a link to the place he's putting me up in Venice. It's about 100 meters from Piazza San Marco. I'm already giddy about it.
* Oh, and yesterday afternoon I met up with my friend Sara of Ms. Adventures in Italy and she told me what the Italian word for flatiron is (piastra, for anyone who's wondering) and sent me to the beauty supply store where she bought hers. So I'm now the proud owner of a Jaguar flatiron which works a treat. I've still got my American one and will try to resurrect it when I get home, but for now, it's getting its own kind of vacation.
* The hotel we're in (until tomorrow, when we can finally get into the apartment - YAY!) is one of those that offers breakfast included with your stay. It's the standard breakfast bar you find in these places - cereals, juices, some tired-looking pastries and a few trays of sliced meat and cheese. This breakfast room, however, offers something different - an Eagles Greatest Hits soundtrack on a constant loop. The last three days we've gone in there, it's been the same thing. We can't figure out if it's someone's new favorite CD, if they are forced to play it or if the CD is stuck in the machine. Either way, it's kind of funny. I might actually miss the Eagles breakfast soundtrack in a few days. Or not.
* I've had a couple espresso drinks in the last two days, with no ill effects! As some of you know, coffee tends to do a number on my gastro-intestinal system, so that the after-meal coffee or breakfast coffee that's so typical in Italy has always been something I can't partake in. Which is kind of a bummer. The last two days, though, I've been feeling reckless (or stupid, I dunno), and have had two coffees - espresso normale both times, which is just a straight shot of espresso in a tiny little cup - with no sudden need to spend hours in the loo. That, my friends, makes me feel like Italy and I are becoming even better friends, and that makes me quite happy. (And I hope I haven't just jinxed myself.)
* We just came back from wandering through the Navigli neighborhood in the southwestern part of Milan, and on the tram ride back we passed a pet store - it's only about 4 blocks from the hotel, so I may try to buzz over there this afternoon while Chris is out at meetings. I just want to get a look at the kinds of things that are in pet stores here as opposed to at home - I know one expat blogger whose cats hate Italian cat treats, so her mother sends American cat treats to her "grand-cats" every so often. I know both my mom and my mother-in-law would probably be happy to do that, but it'd be nice if our cats actually liked what was on offer here, too. I'm going to bring home some cat treats so they can try them, but might not buy anything just yet.
* I got a note from the guy in Venice who is helping out with my accommodations for my travels, and he sent me a link to the place he's putting me up in Venice. It's about 100 meters from Piazza San Marco. I'm already giddy about it.
* Oh, and yesterday afternoon I met up with my friend Sara of Ms. Adventures in Italy and she told me what the Italian word for flatiron is (piastra, for anyone who's wondering) and sent me to the beauty supply store where she bought hers. So I'm now the proud owner of a Jaguar flatiron which works a treat. I've still got my American one and will try to resurrect it when I get home, but for now, it's getting its own kind of vacation.
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