D.C. for the 4th

Another summer, another trip to D.C. to see my sister. I'm not going to break it down day by day; instead I'll break it down memory by memory, most of them involving good food and good people.

Crying abundant and very cathartic tears on the airplane while finishing The Book Thief on the way there; a Thai dinner in the rain; visiting with my sister's officemates, some of whom are major So You Think You Can Dance Fans, and feeling as if I'd found My People; seeing my sister and brother-in-law's very cute apartment for the first time; waiting in a very long line while chatting over iced coffee for brunch at Eastern Market, where I got The Brick, a creation with an egg, a slab of ham, and actual hashbrowns sandwiched between two slices of toast, and a side of grits, of course; going running in a place where it was 74 degrees in the middle of the day, which felt like a miracle, enjoying the pretty sidewalk flowers in my sister's neighborhood and seeing the Capitol appear when rounding the curve of a hill; stopping at a fancy grocery store after my run and being yelled at for accidentally cutting in line at the seafood counter and getting between a woman and her giant bag of crabs; feasting upon a creation of my brother-in-law's, peppers and onions and garlic and tomatoes mashed up in a blender and simmered forever and ever until sweet and delicious pasty goo that when served with shrimp over pasta with a side of rosemary bread rivaled the best dishes I have ever eaten in an Italian restaurant; watching episode after episode of season five of The West Wing, one of the years I didn't watch it, and deeming it, in its often jarring Sorkin-less weirdness, "Bizarro West Wing"; going on another run on the 4th of July, again relishing the mindblowingly pleasant temperature, heading around the Capitol all the way down the Mall through the Folk Life Festival, feeling mighty patriotic and swell when running up the sidewalk sloping up to the Washington Monument, meeting up there with my sister and bro-in-law for stretching and a stroll through the very beautiful World War II Memorial, taking a moment at the pillar engraved with "Louisiana"; stopping for a very cold and totally worth it $6 cup of Stella Artois at a Wales tent at the festival, remembering our most wonderful time there five years ago this summer; gathering with some of their very nice friends over beers and snacks before heading en masse on foot back over to the Mall to watch the incredible fireworks lighting up the sky behind the Washington Monument; heading to the Dupont Circle farmers' market to see B.'s sister at her booth and enjoying seeing her and tasting her wares; walking from there over to the lovely Tabard Inn for an amazing brunch of fontina grits, a warm basket of assorted breads, iced coffee, a mimosa, an asparagus/sundried tomato fritatta, waffles topped with fruit, and a side of bacon, yes ma'am; walking past the White House and feeling a surge of joy and pride relative to its current occupancy; going to see Away We Go, which I found refreshingly honest and funny and real; dining on the sidewalk of a Cuban restaurant with my dear old friend Elizabeth, ever-wonderful; taking an impromptu day trip to Annapolis, which is surprisingly quaint and charming, eating crab cake sandwiches by the bay, strolling up and down the streets window shopping, and leaping around the grounds of the state capitol like lunatics; and dining at Matchbox with more of their friends, who were delightful, and enjoying veggie pizza with potato chips on top and several more Stellas.

Before I left for this trip I had kind of a heavy heart, and I think getting away was just what I needed. I think the best part of any vacation, on top of the great times had in its duration, is the feeling it leaves in me once I'm home. In every moment of fun and laughter with my sister and her husband, both of whom I love beyond measure; with every nod of understanding over fajitas in a discussion of how we enter the world; with every sight of the crape myrtles which seemed so much brighter there, not being burned and baked by the scorching heat we're having here these days; with every sip of cold beer; with every step on my runs through their neighborhood and past those buildings and monuments that never cease to leave me a little in awe ... I felt my heart growing lighter and letting go.

Now that I'm home, I feel more free, more focused, and more ready to embrace the pleasures of the summer ahead of me. I feel ready to enjoy this dinner I just made of onions and bell peppers and zucchini and yellow squash and carrots and celery and almonds and green peas and chick peas and whole wheat orzo topped off with a little romano cheese. I feel like me again.

Catching up

The time came when it was time to leave Hawaii. It was a sad day indeed. I took a two-mile walk around S.'s neighborhood while she went to teach class, and we went out to lunch and for coffee. Then she took me to the airport for my overnight flight. I'll tell you how it was. Depressing. On the flight home, I basically broke my neck and could not move it for several days. I tried to order coffee at the airport Starbucks during my Houston layover, but I was so deliriously sleep-deprived that I just shook my head sadly at the barista when I got to the counter and walked away in a haze.

It was a weird adjustment being home. Being back to work and school instead of on vacation. The time change was crazily life-wrecking in a way that has really surprised me. And mostly I just miss my wonderful friend more than I can ever say.

Now I'm settled back at home, fearing emotional aneurysms daily relative to the election. My nerves are totally shot. I start weeping when I contemplate a certain outcome. My sister came into town, and she and B. and I did a little phone banking, which was a good experience. I've also started training for a half-marathon, which Erin and I are writing about over here.

Yesterday my sister and I went to a football game. It was fun. My shins hurt. I'll miss Mad Men after the season ends tonight. That's really all I can think of to say right now.

Last full day in Hawaii

My last full day in Hawaii was another fun day. We got up early in the morning and went on a tour of Pearl Harbor on the Admiral's Barge.

(Photo by S.)

It was a small group of people, as this is a tour you can only go on if you're with a member of the military. Since S.'s husband is in the Navy, we were in like Flynn. It was a gorgeous day on the water, and if I love anything, let's face it, it's a good history lesson on the history of war. Being at the actual site of the events was amazing. Riding on a boat while doing so was just gravy. We learned all about the area, the ships in the harbor, and the events of December 7, 1941. I was particularly struck by the presence of the U.S.S. Missouri, on which Japan surrendered at the end of WWII. And the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial was, of course, very moving, particularly the area listing the names of survivors who chose to be interred upon their deaths later in life with their shipmates.

After our tour, we headed to nearby battleship (?), on the deck (?) (not good with my Navy terminology) of which S.'s husband had a promotion ceremony. It was very, very cool. The military life is very foreign to me, but I'm getting a closer look at it now through the eyes and experiences of my closest friend and her husband (my junior prom date!). The best thing about this ship besides the ceremony was seeing the launch site of the missile that shot down the space shuttle.

We celebrated his promotion at the Dixie Grill, sucking down beers and water and fries and mahi mahi sandwiches after roasting in the sun on the ship. It was fun to hang out with their friends, who came along.

After that, it was time for pajamas, Thai leftovers, Java Chip ice cream, and the presidential debate. The next day, it was time to leave and return to real life, but I'm choosing not to think about that.

Livin' the dream

After our day at the beach, we decided on a day of rest. It was a day of laundry doing, General Hospital watching, and spaghetti making. We did venture outside for a two-mile jog around the neighborhood, which was (a) hilly and (b) hot but still nice. We finished off the day watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which made us laugh a whole lot.

Which brings us to yesterday. We drove back into Haleiwa to visit S.'s favorite coffee shop, the Coffee Gallery. It was as cute as she promised ... she got a drink called the Coconator and I got an iced hazelnut soy latte.

We snacked on things called California Bars and Banana Date Blobs and sat outside on the patio with some chickens, talking about The Sopranos (which she is just finishing for the first time) and Deadwood (which I'm encouraging her to watch next).

Next she took us to the Soap Factory, housed in an old sugar mill. It smelled like heaven, and we bought some soap for the road. We stopped in a shop next-door that's also a coffee factory; I was talked into a sample and luckily noticed the small worm floating in it before taking the first sip.

We were left wondering which beach to visit. So we headed along the North Shore, and each beach was of course more stunning than the one we just passed. Ultimately we decided to visit Turtle Bay, where her parents stayed when they were here and where Forgetting Sarah Marshall was filmed. Like geeks, we got excited to see the things like the desk where Mila Kunis worked, the bar, the restaurant, and so forth. The beach there was lovely and relaxing and we settled into the sand with our mango (her) and raspberry (me) slushies and magazines.

I have only met two locals here who were anything less than friendly -- one at the farmer's market, who became livid when I realized I had just spent $10 on four mango/peach scones (I dislike both mangoes and peaches) instead of four cheese biscuits and asked to exchange them, unopened and paid for 5 seconds before, for something else. And one was on the beach at Turtle Bay. He wanted to sell us some "Hawaiian art," and when we (politely) declined, he set off on a tirade about how visitors act like "they" offend us, but it is we who offend them. He said, "You're looking at someone who's pure." Then as we packed up to leave, he told us to go ahead and leave because we'd spent enough time on "their" beaches. Then he called out to S. as we once again politely declined his offer to sell us some art, "You live here! You should know better!" S. has lots of thoughts and insights into the "us" vs. "them" situation in Hawaii, and I have to say it's pretty damn fascinating.

We walked along the shore back to the car and did not leave until embarking on a covert mission led by the intrepid S. to find the beach cottages where Aldous, Sarah Marshall, and Jason Segel stayed in the movie. It was exciting.

We then headed home, at which point we headed to two exercise classes she was teaching. One used all balls ... the body ball, the medicine ball, the pilates ball. Thankfully, it was only 30 minutes because though it was fun, it was hard! Next came Rep Reebok, and I have to say that it was also tough but I loved it! I kept thinking how much my sister would like this class. My friend is a great teacher.

We got some Thai take-out and headed home; S. and her husband watched Heroes, and I took to my bed to watch the season premiere of Friday Night Lights online (wonderful), and that was the end of yesterday. It was another great day; apparently there are no bad days in Hawaii.

Hawaii, Day 3

Our day began with a drive to the Valley of the Temples at the foot of the Koʻolau Mountains.

The mountains were mindblowingly huge and beautiful. The whole temple and burial ground area was very peaceful and calming.

After wandering the grounds for a little while, we headed into Kailua, where we had sushi for lunch. S. was quick to point out the side of "mac salad" that apparently comes with everything in Hawaii whether you order it or not. Good to know!

Our next top was Bellows Beach. The moment we parked the car, it started pouring down rain.

We woefully watched the rain through the car windows, but it stopped a few minutes later. Hooray! We relaxed in the sand for a few minutes before deciding to brave the water. It wasn't nearly as cold as the water at Chun's. S. explained that Chun's is a reefy bottom and Bellows is a sandy bottom, which means at the latter we could swim without fear of being slammed into a volcanic rock and dying. The waves were super strong and knocked us over multiple times, but it was very fun and thrilling and outstanding in that way that only being smashed around by ocean waves can be. S. yelled, "The Pacific isn't very pacific!" We took lots of pictures of ourselves throughout.

We swam until we couldn't swim anymore, and then we headed home along a winding mountain road. We pulled over immediately when we saw a sign reading "Scenic Point." It was scenic, alright. It was the Halona Blowhole, and it was gorgeous and breathtaking and all of those other adjectives that don't begin to capture what it felt like to stand up there.

After sufficiently taking in the glory of the view, we drove home through a very ritzy part of the island. We stared with mouths agape at the HUGE movie star mansions on the mountain and decided to try to see if we could get up there. We could not, as we would learn from a security guard who laughed in our faces. It was called Hawaii Loa Ridge. In my mind, the stars of Lost live there.

We got back to the house, showered, ate pizza, and collapsed. It was another really exhausting and really wonderful day.

Hawaii, Day 2

On my first night in Hawaii, I could only sleep until 3 a.m. Two hours later, S. and I departed in the dark to the gym for her 6 a.m. spinning class. She helped me set up my bike and made sure I was good to go. Her group of regulars was there. It was awesome to see her in action. I've known her for 25 years now, but I've never seen her in teacher mode, and she was a natural! So proud of her. What I was not so proud of were my knees, which screamed even as I pedaled with zero resistance at 0.00000001 mph. Whatever muscles knees need to ride a bike? Mine apparently don't have. Not to mention that my entire nether regions felt like they were in a state of severe pain and torture. So I meekly climbed off five minutes into class and headed to the treadmill in the next room. Never did I think it would feel so good to run two miles. Anything was paradise next to that bike. I am a little sad that I am not equipped for my friend's expertise, but what can you do? After her class, I headed back over, where I was informed by one of her regulars, who was gifting her with two homegrown avocados, how wonderful she is and how much they all love her. Heart=warmed. So nice!

After the gym, we headed to a fancy mall for iced hazelnut soy lattes ... yum. This mall is akin to Rodeo Drive ... Tiffany, Harry Winston, Prada, Gucci, Jimmy Choo, Louis Vuitton, and so forth. Fancy. Apparently lots of rich people either live in or travel to Honolulu to do their shopping. Then we returned to the house (in a town nearby), drove past the very lovely park where they got married, and prepared for our hike!

This is a favorite hike of hers on the North Shore, the Kaunala Trail.

She told me it would be "easy" but perhaps her fitness ease is different from mine considering she is a fitness instructor. At one point along the trail, we began to encounter many fallen trees blocking the path.

We would climb over them and under them and around them and it was sort of like maneuvering around town post-Gustav. This was very flummoxing and she kept saying, "I've never seen the trail look like this!" Finally she realized that was the case because we weren't actually on the trail. We found the trail and from then on it was mostly smooth sailing. Despite some hard inclines, it was definitely beautiful.

It took about 2.5 hours to get to the destination, a lookout where you can see the ocean down below and the mountains in the horizon.

It was very beautiful indeed, and we plopped down happily to have a snack, but it started raining shortly thereafter. Alas. The hike down was very muddy as the path has been overrun by tractors lately putting in some communications lines. But we still had plenty of fun.

Afterwards, we headed to lunch in a cute town called Haleiwa and ate BBQ chicken pizza and salads at Pizza Bob's. And then we went to the beach! A beach called Chun's. The North Shore is apparently famous for its beaches/surfing. I went into the water in my shorts & sports bra because I was a little bashful about changing in the car. The water was cold but clear and AWESOME. Word to the wise ... the currents here don't exactly feel like those in the Gulf of Mexico (duh). You don't have to go out very far to quickly be too deep to stand, and the currents really knock you around. I floated around for a while blissfully until I got pruney, but then I came in because I got a little nervous about the currents ... there are huge rocks and it wouldn't take much to smash into one! Anyway, it was so fun and relaxing to swim and the surfers were very cool and it was all stunningly beautiful to behold.

Then we came back here and S. cooked us a delicious dinner of fish, corn on the cob, and broccoli. I managed to stay awake until 8 pm at which point I collapsed. It was a great day.

Aloha!

Here I am in sunny Hawaii in "The Sanctuary," otherwise known as S.'s guest room. It is what we named her old bedroom in Jersey City, so beautifully decorated and warm that it could be called nothing else. She has recreated it here, thousands of miles and a whole new life away, and I am lucky enough to be settled in at 5:40 p.m. Hawaii time (10:40 p.m. home time) and I can't wait to start snoozing.

I got up at 3:15 a.m. home time to begin the journey here ... the flight was long and surreal. I tried to sleep but I think I am fundamentally incapable of sleeping on planes or in any other kind of public situation. I was explaining to S. that one of my least favorite experiences in life is being startled. I think I cannot relax on a plane enough to fall asleep because I dread too much that moment when the man next to me taps me on the shoulder so he can cross over me to go to the bathroom and I know that moment will make me jump out of my skin. I am not sure what this says about me, but there you go.

I truly do feel that planes must be nightmares for many people who cannot fit comfortably in the seats, and I wish airlines would have seating that accommodates all shapes and sizes of people, and I know it was not the man's fault because he had to recline significantly in order to fit into his seat, but he reclined so much that I could not tilt my TV screen in order to see what was playing or work my tray properly when it was time for food and beverages. I kept telling myself there are worse problems to have in life so I just listened to hour after hour of Without a Trace, which is not a half-bad show. I listened to an episode of CSI Miami, which my mother inexplicably loves, and it was not good. I hope it is not a spoiler to say that when the character who appears to be played by the best actress on the show leaves, I don't see the point in continuing to watch. The truth is that I have never seen an episode of CSI that I've enjoyed and I think it's just not my kind of show. I also listened to an episode of CSI New York out of sheer boredom and I am not sure who decided that pairing a powerhouse like Gary Sinese with the likes of Melina Kanakaredes was a good idea. I also caught about two-thirds of Hancock (lame).

One of the highlights of the trip was spending some time listening to the airplane's Broadway channel. I heard "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" from The Lion King, what I think was "A Step Too Far" from Aida (Do I need to know this musical? Is it good?), and "Untitled Opening Number" and "Two Nobodies from New York" from [title of show], both of which I LOVED, and I plan to buy that soundtrack immediately. And that was my plane ride to Hawaii!

S. greeted me with a beautiful lei and a fruit smoothie, and we headed to her beautiful house to watch the vice presidential debate, during which we actually writhed on the floor and hid our faces in mortification. To our eyes, Palin was a pathetic failure. We watched in horror after the debate as commentator after commentator praised her. We are frightened for this nation.

Tomorrow: North Shore hike! Aw, yeah.

Getaway

It was decided that an end-of-summer (not weather-wise, but freedom from school-wise) night away was in order. So we headed to the quaint and lovely town and stayed at a bed and breakfast. I liked this bed and breakfast a lot because it had cats, a dog, a patio, homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, a six-pack of my favorite beer stocked in the fridge for our arrival, a hammock, a rope swing, beautiful grounds, an antique bathtub with bathsalts and soap that smelled like apple Jolly Ranchers (in a good way), and little guestbooks full of messages from people who've stayed there over the years which made for great reading somehow, showing little glimpses into people's lives from all over the world.

We got up early in the morning to cross the state line into Mississippi, where we hiked down to some "waterfalls." It was great just to be outside, hearing nothing but the bugs and the birds and the water. It's important to get away sometimes. I recommend it.

D.C. Days 4 & 5

This morning we rolled out of bed and headed to Rock Creek Park, where we took a long, brisk walk. It was beautiful and peaceful.

We headed to brunch with B.'s mom at Kramerbooks -- a lovely and fun place -- and had a nice little visit with his family at the Dupont farmer's market.

Now we're sitting in Artfully Chocolate Kingsbury Confections, which is delightful as all get-out. I'm drinking a lavender lemonade.

(Later ...) We got Chop't again for dinner and are turning in early. Goodnight.

(The next day ...)

This morning I woke up early and headed to the Holocaust Memorial Museum. My sister left me detailed Metro instructions because she went to work, but after calculating that it was exactly 2 miles from her neighborhood, I decided to just walk it. My iced coffee and I had a pleasant walk down 14th Street for most of the way until I reached the Mall and lost all shade and started pouring sweat. The line wasn't too bad ... I definitely recommend that you get there early, though.

This is an amazing museum. It was very similar to the exhibit we saw in London but was obviously on a larger scale. Haunting and unforgettable. No words.

I stopped in the museum cafe when finished to grab a bite to eat as it was past 2:00 and I was hungry. Then I learned that my sister had 40 free minutes at her office so I got my roasted vegetable panini and sprinted through the streets eating it, stringy mozzerella flying into my hair, making it to the Metro and to her office in the nick of time. It was great to see where she works and meet her colleagues.

Then I met up with my old friend J. at Dupont Circle and we decided to go to Kramerbooks for a couple of pints of beer apiece and some good conversation. The graphic novels section was right by our table, so I grabbed a few to show him what I've been reading for class. It started pouring down rain, but we decided to trek through it, me with the umbrella and him walking his bike, to Busboys & Poets, otherwise known as the cutest coffee shop/restaurant in all the land. We each got a pint of beer; he had a blackened fish sandwich, my sister had pesto veggie lasagna, and I had a spinach, feta, and red pepper pizza. It was delicious and fun.

Overall, it's been a great trip. Hot as hell, but what're you gonna do? It was wonderful to get away, see my sister, drink a little, eat a lot, exercise a little, visit two awesome museums, and spend time with some dear friends. I didn't get to see all my friends who live there, but I tried to see those I've seen the least frequently in the past few years. Hopefully I'll get back soon and will be able to see everyone! P.S. Dragon Slippers is a really cute book ... thank you, Melissa.

D.C. Day 3

We woke up early this morning and headed to the Y. I ran 2 miles and my head exploded. Then we walked over to a farmer's market where a lot of pretty loaves of bread and berries were being sold.

We headed into Old Towne Alexandria, where we're at a coffee shop. It's very pretty and peaceful here. Tonight we are having dinner with my dear friend Elizabeth, and I CANNOT WAIT.

We got a little lost on the way home from the coffee shop, but it was enjoyable because we did some loud, obnoxious harmonizing to such songs as "Somewhere, Somehow" by Amy Grant & Michael W. Smith.

We decided to stop at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival on the Mall, featuring NASA, Bhutan, and Texas. It was pretty hot, so mostly we just enjoyed a giant rocket popsicle and a giant slab of watermelon.

(Later ...) Dinner with Elizabeth was great. We went to Zengo, ordered six appetizers and mojitos, and all was good. It was so wonderful to see my beloved friend again! We headed to Gifford's for ice cream after upon her suggestion, and I had a scoop of hazelnut ice cream with chocolate cookies and chocolate fudge swirls, throwing my new healthy eating habits under the train for the team. It rained like a mofo, and we caught a cab. We parted ways and vowed to see each other again soon, hopefully in November to celebrate rather than mourn the presidential election results like we did four Novembers ago.

After that, my sister and I met some of her friends at L'Enfant. They were nice and I liked them but I cannot stay up late so we left about 11:30.

Goodnight!

D.C. Day 2

Whew! A full day. I slept not a wink last night. We rolled out of bed and did Turbo Jam. I don't think my sister enjoyed it very much but I was excited for her to experience it. We made the foolhardy decision to walk from her U-Street neighborhood to the Newseum at high noon. We thought a grande iced coffee would be enough to help us along the path. It wasn't, and sweat poured down our faces and we got too delirious to find a Metro station. Luckily we passed some pretty flowers along the way.

55 minutes and a couple of cases of severe dehydration later, we arrived at the glorious Newseum. We contemplated not going, but Elizabeth insisted, and I'm so glad we did. It was first class. A top-knotch museum experience from ceiling to floor. The view from the terrace was amazing, and each exhibit was better than the last. The only con is that it was like a walk-in freezer. Normally this would bother me, but I was generating so much heat from the walk that I welcomed it for the most part. My sister was shivering and turning blue, however. I cannot recommend this museum highly enough.

On the way home, we stopped at the famous Chop't. I was overwhelmed and had no idea what to order so I just started randomly picking stuff. I ended up with romaine lettuce, shrimp, feta cheese, egg whites, carrots, cucumbers, sunflower seeds, ginger carrot dressing, and possibly something I'm forgetting. I ate the entire thing and regret not one bite.

Tonight we watched my beloved Lars & the Real Girl. Now there is nothing left to do but eat ice cream pops and collapse.

D.C. Day 1

Character-building moments while traveling.

(1) Realizing that getting into an empty metro train at the airport and spreading my luggage out meant that I would have to end up holding my little rolling backpack on my lap once people started pouring in. So wheels on my lap. Wheels that had rolled through two airports, multiple airport bathrooms, and a metro station. On my jeans. One leg of which has a small hole in it through which the plastic wheel was touching my skin. I tried to be brave and un-germophobic like Robyn (seriously -- I am in awe) but it was really hard. I felt myself about to burst into tears. I held this bag on my lap to make room for a soldier of some kind to perch himself next to me while balanced on one buttcheek because my other bag was also in the way but my lap is only so big. I thought to myself, "At least I am making room for a soldier." I felt, not unlike Sharon Cooper and Louis DiMucci, that I was doing it for my country.

(2) Realizing I would have to veer from my sister's explicit instructions and switch trains because it's rush hour. This makes me itchy and frantic because I don't know what in the hell I'm doing. I remind myself that I have navigated subway stations in Paris, Rome, and New York, albeit unsuccessfully sometimes, and to get a goddammed grip. I finally figured out what other train to ride and found the Starbucks at which I'm supposed to be waiting for her.

(3) As I'm standing at the counter ordering my grapefruit spritzer in a bottle or whatever the hell it is, I ask for a cup of ice. One barista calls out to another that I need a cup of ice. She ignores her. She ignores her time and again. Finally I say: CAN I PLEASE HAVE A CUP OF ICE? She wiped her paw all over her face including her nose and then got me my cup of ice, mauling the lid with her hand in the process by pressing it on way more times than it needed to be. I sighed and told myself that this is a part of food and beverage service and that the ice itself is probably dirty and to chill out. (The germophobia spirals ... it starts with a dirty bag on the lap and snowballs into further irrationality from there.)

(4) As I'm settling in at Starbucks preparing to plug in my laptop whose battery ran out on the plane while watching the special features of In Bruges (more on that later, wow), a man makes a dive for the plug at the same time, coughing tubercularly without covering his mouth and pulling an actual jambox out of his large duffel bag to plug in. By this point I'd had it, so I said, "EXCUSE ME," and plugged in my laptop first. I wasn't trying to be rude but I think I might have been, a little. Of course there are two sockets, one on top of the other, so we could share, but for some reason I felt like I had to go first if he was going to kneel down there and cough wetly on my brand new running shoes. I have no idea what he needed to hear so badly on the radio but all he could get was loud, jarring static so he left, thankfully. I was not feeling like the nicest version of myself.

(5) In keeping with my seat-hogging tradition, a little girl asks if she can have my other chair so I move one of my bags off of it. She proceeds to stand on the chair, not sit, peering over the counter and yelling hello to the ignoring, face wiping barista, and then she knocks over my bottle of grapefruit spritzer! And it spills on the table, millimeters from this very laptop. I was so aghast that I just blinked in shock while her mom or caregiver or whoever she was cleaned it up and told the girl not to stand on the chair again which the girl proceeded immediately to do. Which only leads me to ask as I sit here: WHAT KIND OF STARBUCKS IS THIS?

My mom thinks that putting up with other people in the world teaches us virtue. And I think that I am a normally pretty tolerant person. I really cannot stand when people act completely put out that other people live in the world … stand in line in front of them, stop at red lights in front of them, etc. After all, other people DO live in the world and we must all try to live in harmony. I really do believe that, and I think that people who get mad at kids in restaurants and grocery stores are giant assholes. But when people start coughing and spilling on me, that is where I draw the line. Is that wrong?

Okay – In Bruges! This movie is so fantastic! I read Heavy Liquid and V for Vendetta and Serenity: Those Left Behind for the first few hours of travel, all of which were good, but I needed a break from the freaking comics so I put a movie in on the way here, and In Bruges … like I said, wow. Okay, I won't give anything away. So I'll just say that I have a deep appreciation for Colin Farrell that heretofore I never imagined possible. He was brilliant. Brilliant, I am telling you. He gave one of those performances where you can see a million different tiny emotions from his heart and thoughts from his head all over his face at any moment, in all the right places. I thought it was a revelatory and incredible performance. The rest of the cast was great, too, but he made my jaw drop. I am trying to think of someone his charisma and nuance reminded me of, and all I can come up with was Robert Downey, Jr. at his best. He was funny and heartbreaking. I was laughing out loud on the plane. Even though it's not always easy to watch. I will say that. But wow! I liked it so much.

And …. now the girl at the next table is taking off her nailpolish and re-painting her nails with reckless abandon. What kind of a person opens a bottle of nail polish remover in a crowded, small, hot coffee shop in June? I can never return to this Starbucks. Ever.

---

It's now later and I'm showered and calm. We went to eat at Rice, which was delicious even though my basil, tofu, and vegetable concoction over purple rice set my lips aflame and made me sweat profusely. She bought red and yellow gerber daisies and is taking great care of me. I love the look of the buildings in her neighborhood. We're about to watch the results show of So You Think You Can Dance (we think Comfort & Chris should go), and life is good.

Blessed

Feeling at peace this Christmas Eve evening. Spent a few days in beautiful Maryland with B. and his family. Came home, kissed my godchild, ate chocolate-covered Ritz cracker peanut butter sandwiches, had my friend wish me Merry Christmas in Hawaiian, and spent the evening with my family over turkey and sausage gumbo, my dad reading the Christmas story from the book of Luke, telling stories and laughing. My pets are healthy and seem happy. The heater in my car is broken. It looks like Santa is bringing me a ticket to the national championship. I have the whole week off from work. All seems pretty good.

I read three books, Welcome to Vietnam and Hill 568 by Ellen Emerson White, both good, and Twilight by Stephanie Meyer, which I am torn between liking and hating.

I got to see the beautiful beach, which always makes my soul happy.

B.'s mom knitted me a scarf made out of bamboo thread. It pleased me.

They have a very nice orange cat, who let me squeeze his purry self for a quick cat nap.

I saw amazing paintings by Edward Hopper and an exhibit I loved that showed how people have taken pictures over the decades. I stood in front of the Capitol during an impromptu stop before the airport in the mist like a dork with semi-crazy eyes.

And I think that is enough pictures of me for tonight. Mostly I just want to say that I love my family, I love my boyfriend, and I love my friends. I do not need any presents. Even though there are totally rats in my backyard and I have no idea what to do about them, I am blessed to a disgusting degree, and I never want to forget it.

Road Trip

Sometimes you decide that you are leaving the next day for a road trip. That happened to us on Thursday when my boyfriend decided we should go to Oxford and Memphis for the weekend as one last hurrah before life changes come about soon. So we did! And fun was had.

We left on Friday morning for Oxford, where we stayed at the too charming to be believed Puddin’ Place. I loved everything about it – the room, the bathroom, the porch – and renamed it Puddin’ Palace in my mind. It was an easily walkable distance from the square and was just lovely.

We had drinks on the balcony of City Grocery that afternoon and strolled around the square, stopping at Square Books, where I bought The Road, and Square Books, Jr., which Melissa would love and where I bought I Am the Messenger by Marcus Zusak, author of my beloved The Book Thief, after having a rousing conversation with the staff about His Dark Materials and all of the books they think I should read -- Octavian Nothing, House of the Scorpion, and Snowflower and the Secret Fan. (If anyone has read I Am the Messenger, can you please e-mail me? I feel like I really need to discuss it with someone as soon as possible.)

That night, we went back to City Grocery for dinner, which was very good except for the rabbit special. I am not really sure what possessed me to order rabbit for the first time in my life other than it was served with saffron risotto, which sounded really good to me at the time. I don’t know if rabbit is supposed to basically be made of fat and be pink and raw, but this rabbit sure was and I don’t believe I’ll ever be eating rabbit again. We shared an excellent salad and soup, though, so all was not horrifying at City Grocery.

The next morning, we had a great breakfast at Puddin’ Place – orange muffins, fruit/yogurt/granola parfait, and a great frittata. Overall, big thumbs up. We walked back to Square Books for a coffee and one last bask in its comfortable and wonderful atmosphere. Then we drove to Rowan Oak, the home of William Faulkner. Which was quiet, peaceful, pretty, in the middle of the woods, and totally cool.

We said what the hell on our way into Memphis and decided to stop at Graceland before going to our hotel. Graceland was the opposite of Rowan Oak. It was just … Graceland. If you’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about. We bought our tickets and milled around for an hour and a half before we could line up for our shuttle across the street. Then we waited in line for a while. Then we went on the tour. Which was all very neat-o but also kind of gross and sweaty. The horses were pretty. My favorite thing was a petition framed on the wall of signature after signature of people asking Elvis to play in Brooklyn. Graceland was exhausting. We did eat a garden burger (me) and a peanut butter and banana sandwich (him) in Rockabilly’s, which was random but fun. We agreed that we put more into Graceland than we got out of it and that we will never go back but that we definitely had to go. (For a much more entertaining account of Graceland, go here.)

We then checked into our somewhat gross and quite plain hotel room at the Sleep Inn, but it was the only one downtown for under $100, so there you go. The afternoon is kind of a blur of hotness. What did we do? Where did we eat? I don’t even know. Oh, yeah. We walked down Beale Street to scope out the scene and I got a giant strawberry snowball, which I spilled all over myself.

At around 5:00, we headed to the lobby of the Peabody to watch the ducks process into the elevator, which was quite cute. For dinner, we headed to Rendezvous, where approximately one million people had come also to dine, but the whole operation of the mob was run very smoothly. We only had to wait about thirty minutes for settling down for dinner, where we ate ribs and barbeque chicken nachos and pretty much went into a barbeque fugue state with dazed eyes and sauce on our faces. Damn, that was some good barbeque.

We went up to the roof of the Peabody to check out the sunset and then we cruised around Beale Street before going to Blues Hall to hear Dr. Feelgood Potts and his band play. They were pretty awesome. We also spent a fair amount of time in A. Schwab’s, the oldest business on Beale Street, a store which seemed to have everything and nothing and which I loved very much.

Soon it was time to collapse and get up the next morning for Sun Studio! We decided to walk there and ended up pretty lost and blind in the scorching sunlight, one desolate block after the next. We stood on a corner debating whether to find a cab (his vote) or walk back to the hotel in defeat before getting mugged (my vote) when suddenly a bright blonde woman named Sally in an SUV with a W sticker on the back stopped to offer us a ride. We hopped in with her and her two beautiful daughters and they drove us right over. It was truly one of those angels on earth moments and reminded me that Bush people are people, too. Thank you, Sally of Memphis! All I can really say about Sun Studio is that it beats Graceland by a mile. (Read the Lesters’ account here.) I really loved this tour and felt way more into the spirit of Elvis and the birth of rock and roll than I did at Graceland, and our guide, Shawnie, did a fabulous job. This is the sort of tour that gives you chills. I recommend it.

And now we are home. And as of yesterday, home = a place we live together. Holy shit! He is starting a new path in life, and we’ll be living in the same city for the first time. I’m excited. I’m glad that we got to hang out with the ghosts of William Faulkner, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, and so forth before settling into this new existence. I like to think they are singing to us from the great beyond and wishing us luck.

Catching Up

It's daunting to think of updating chronologically so I think I'll go backwards.

Tonight I am sitting on the couch. I just watched Moonstruck and ate some disgusting chicken fried rice from a Knorr envelope. Zuko liked it, though. Today I mowed the grass, did four loads of laundry, unpacked from my trip, reorganized my bathroom cabinet, got gas, went grocery shopping, and finished Harry Potter. And also spent hours on the phone with Apple bemoaning the fact that after sending it in for repairs, something is now broken that wasn't before. (It won't burn any CDs.) The first person I talked to immediately "suggested" that I take it to a retail store so that a "Mac genius" could "isolate the problem" and then I could "call them back" and tell them what the problem is. I "suggested" that I paid for Apple Care and intended to receive technical assistance over the phone. I did this nicely, of course, but deep down I was growing more livid by the second. After going through the usual hoops and steps I have jumped through countless times as they've tried to diagnose problem after problem and reminding them that I just sent it in and had the disc drive REPLACED, they had me do whatever you do with the 2 original install discs and then call them back to report that it still was not working. After much ridiculousness, I finally talked to someone named Dan who gave me his personal extension, told me how to cut through the voice prompts, and said he or some other specialist would be handling it from now on. So I'm sending it back in. And I have never been a customer service person and I understand there are rules they have to follow, but I swear to God that when what's-his-name, before even beginning to address possibilities or troubleshoot, suggested that I drag my ass to Comp USA, I almost cursed Apple forever. Thank God for Dan.

Last night I went to see a local production of Cats with Maryelizabeth. We stopped for cookies and Icees on the way home along with a hamburger and fries. We decided that it was a very good production but that even at its best, Cats is kind of a boring slog of a show. I like some of the songs, but mostly I've decided it's annoying and I don't understand what it is about it that middle America so faithfully embraced for years and years on Broadway. Give me Rodgers and Hammerstein any day of the week, is all I'm saying. One weird thing is that we noted when walking into the theater that we went to theater camp there the summer after ninth grade. So we were reminiscing about it. And one of the girls from theater camp was in the show! Bizarre. She looked great, danced great, sounded great, and was overall in incredible shape as a performer. Nelly Forbush was played by three girls that summer ... I was one, and so was she. I got "Some Enchanted Evening," and she got "Honey Bun." I think it's safe to say that she carried the torch from theater camp, and I totally dropped it. I cannot believe that was 17 years ago.

Speaking of Rodgers and Hammerstein, I've been enjoying the hell out of a four-disc set that my dad dug out while cleaning his study, "Golden Memories of Stage & Screen." On my way to the airport last weekend, I listened to "Edelweiss" and cried and cried. Mostly remembering the moment when the Captain is too overcome with emotion to continue singing at the end and Maria walks out on stage to save the moment and save him. One of my memories of watching that movie on repeat as a child was how my mom always pointed out during that scene how much Maria loved him to go out there and sing the song when he couldn't. The whole box set is pretty damned awesome.

Yesterday, I got back into town and played with my pets and bought Harry Potter and was reunited with my computer, which was a very joyous experience before I realized it was still broken.

On Friday night, B. and I flew home from our week away. We finished disc one of The Best of Youth on the plane ride home and in doing so broke HIS computer, only his seems to be more severely broken as all it will do at this point is blink a question mark at him. Sorrow. To make our connecting flight, we ran and ran and ran through the Miami airport and I almost had a heart attack. The Best of Youth is quite long and good. This trip's airplane breakdown occured while reading this article about Barbaro. It was similar to my fit while reading The Book Thief, only shorter in duration as it was an article rather than a novel. I just could not control the tears from shooting down my face. I discovered after finishing it that it was written by Buzz Bissinger, who wrote Friday Night Lights.

(Photo by B)

We spent a few days with his family, which was very nice as always, after going to Williamsburg, which is a groovy place to visit if you enjoy historical nerdiness, which I do. We went to Jamestown Settlement, the Governor's Palace, Busch Gardens, etc.

(Photo by B)




(Photo by B)

I wish I were not such a germophobic freak in hotel rooms, but I can't seem to shake my paranoia. I am definitely happy to be back in my own bed and bathroom.

The Emmy nominations came out, and I have some thoughts on them, but they'll have to wait. A new week starts tomorrow, and I want to be on top of things and be healthy and happy.

Strawberry love

I spent the weekend out of town at my sister's law school graduation. It was a whirlwindy but very fun weekend. It involved eating both local and national chain pizza and sushi. And watching The Office and laughing as my brother declared he'd rather die of tetanus than hang out in the emergency room. (He cut his foot by kicking the corner of a low-lying heater in her apartment.) And going to the student health center instead for his shot and killing time in the waiting room discussing the presidential candidates, abortion politics, the Rosie vs. Elisabeth feud, and the ins and outs of Lost. And going to a big family reception with an amazing buffet spread and greeting and meeting my sister's friends and professors. And eating gelato and Italian ice. And it was, for the most part, a very merry time. (We missed having my older brother there; his stand-by ticket plan didn't work out.) My sister looked radiantly lovely, and we were all very proud of her.

(Speaking of Rosie, I love what Nora Ephron wrote about her leaving the show.)

And we saw Waitress, which I loved and adored, and whose song I cannot get out of my head to save my life. ("Gonna be a pie from heaven above, gonna be filled with strawberry love.") It was so simple and funny and sweet. I think I loved it more than they did, because when I announced that I thought Keri Russell deserved an Oscar nomination, my sister looked at me like I was nuts. I loved watching Adrienne Shelly talk about how the movie is a love letter to her daughter, though that makes me unspeakably sad.

I also read two books during two very long days of travel. What Is the What was quite good and intense, and I'm very glad I saw Lost Boys of Sudan before reading it because I think it really informed and enriched my reading experience. I read it on the way there and would not shut up about it while my sister and I spent a while waiting for her car to be washed to the point where she drove us to the bookstore afterwards and bought it for her human rights professor.

On the way home, I read The Book Thief. I hadn't cried so hard while reading a book since my last airplane emotional breakdown, which was coincidentally also on the way home from visiting my sister. This was a very similar weeping extravaganza. I blew my nose into napkin after napkin from Au Bon Pain, and the woman next to me in the Chanel sunglasses kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye and shifting away from me uncomfortably. But I could not help it. I was so moved that what started as quiet tears running down my face dissolved into hiccups and blurred vision and whimpering and a runny nose, and it went on for page after page after page. I put my head in my hands when I finished it and kept on crying, partly because it was so beautiful and partly because I was so sad that it was over and I was leaving Leisel and her dreams and Papa and his accordion and Rudy with hair like lemons and Max with hair like feathers and Rosa and her curses behind.

I made the mistake of reading a few less than raving reviews of the book when I got home. I decided to ignore them and write the reviewers off as insane. I think I'm going to stop reading reviews of any book or movie I love because there's just no damn point. If they're positive, great. But if they're even remotely negative, I get irrationally protective and defensive and then secretly wonder if I'm crazy to have loved it. In this case, I know I am not. Sure, I can see why some of the aspects of the book would be annoying to some, but they worked for me. I loved the story and the characters so much that I don't care that the author employed some unusual and possibly gimmicky methods. It moved me utterly and profoundly, and I will love it forever.

Now I'm home and settling back into real life. My brother sat behind Lance Bass at Les Miserables last night. And here are some pictures.

(a little excited about her Friday Night Lights shirt)


(making his best Jim Halpert face)


(pretty building)

(posing for one too many pictures before heading to the reception)


(giant piles of sushi at the reception buffet)

(the graduate and me)

Spring Awakening

(transcribed from paper journal)

It was a packed house, and I felt so excited to be at a Broadway show on a Saturday night!

Then the show started, and it was everything I hoped it would be and more. Let's face it, I cried throughout, even when the song wasn't remotely sad. I loved the lighting and staging and seeing the songs I know so well in my head exploding into life.

The cast so impressed me so much that I don't think I can convey it aptly. Their voices were so powerful and amazing. I was especially impressed by the three leads, John Gallagher, Jr., Jonathan Groff, and Lea Michele. I had my typical anxiety that my favorite cast members would be played by understudies, but they were all there, there, there.

Some of the songs were regulars for me during my running training, and I know them inside and out and backwards, and to see them in person was just mindblowingly great. What can I even say. I wanted to jump out of my seat. These kids were really just phenomenally gifted.

It was especially great to see Gallagher as Moritz metamorphose during his songs from the meek, terrified kid to the full-on blazing powerhouse rock star. I would love to see his real-life band play. And I really thought that Groff was quite incredible as Melchior, whom I see as the heart of the whole damn story. I read one review that described his performance as "wan," and I was like, excuse me, WHAT? He was anything but wan. Even when he started doing some weird modern dance moves that were kind of like vogueing that made Shelley put her face in her hands, he was flat-out awesome. He really did a great job balancing being the wholesome and idealistic gentleman, the reckless and jerk-like adolescent boy, and the heroic rebel. I think they both definitely deserve Tony nominations.

And you could tell that the audience members, young and old, were really with the show the entire time. (Except for the mom who dragged out her 11-year-old son at the end of Act I -- she couldn't be convinced to stay by the lovely older couple behind us who encouraged her not to leave. My sister whispered loudly that she should let him stay because "THAT'S WHAT THIS SHOW IS ALL ABOUT!" Clearly.) At intermission, my sister expressed her discomfort about the way a key scene went down, but I was like, "What? You're crazy."

Then Act II started and flew by, and too soon it was almost over and I found myself losing all control of my tears and during "Those We've Known," I just kind of fell apart and wept in manner of a river. And the tears continued during "Purple Summer," even though that song is random and I have no idea what it's talking about or what it has to do with anything but it was so beautiful and I was so heartbroken that the spell was about to be broken that I just cried and cried like some kind of unbalanced lunatic. I was very composed and quiet about it, though, because I think those who make scenes in Broadway audiences should really be shot on the spot.

I'm not kidding when I say that when it ended, the audience leapt to its feet. And that lack of hesitation, that unquestioning, instant ovation was so moving to me that I had to keep crying. And I said goodbye to the stage (silently as not to appear crazy), shuffled out sniffling, and we headed home.

I'm not sure why I was such a basketcase about it, but there you go. I felt so lucky to see a show that I love with its original cast with two of the original loves of my life. It's okay that they didn't love it like I did. My love remains pure and true. It turns out that lots of people, we discovered, have the same problems that my sister did with that scene, but we all kind of agreed to embrace the ambiguity, amen.

Part of what I love about seeing a musical for the first time after only knowing the CD is that the plot transforms from uncertain to clear, the funny parts become hilarious, the sad parts become devastating, and you are close enough to see the sweat and the spit fly and really, what is better in this life than going to a Broadway musical? Not much, that's what.

I just turned on my iPod as I sit and wait on the runway to fly home, and what part of what song should be playing but "NYC, just got here this morning, three bucks, two bags, one me. NYC, I give you fair warning, up there in lights I'll be." I'll never be up there in lights, but I will always go back to see those who are and love it more than just about anything.

Honestly, I think I might be kind of inconsolable about the dearth of live musical theater in my life if not for the fact that I'll be seeing the Wicked tour very soon.

My romanticizing of New York is something I've mostly outgrown ... I realize that I could not live in such a maniacally loud, busy, crowded place, but the skyline still moves me and I still love the adventure of feeling brave enough to navigate and maneuver through the chaos if a bit spastically and with my hand sanitizer always within reach. It's so weird to think of Shelley not living there after seven years. I'll always look back on our times there together so happily, even when we screamed at each other. Even that is okay.

Overall, it was a great trip to NYC. I loved seeing Kymm and Anne, staying in Shelley's tiny and wonderful Chelsea studio, going to a museum and a Broadway show, eating Thai and Indian and Italian, going to Crumbs not once but twice, walking through the rain through some of my favorite neighborhoods all by myself without getting (totally) lost, and most of all, being with my beautiful friend and my beautiful sister before they set off for sights unseen.

More cupcakes, immigrants, and pasta

(transcribed from paper journal)

I'm sitting at LGA trying to block out the annoying anime audio being loudly emitted from the laptop of the kid next to me. It is a beautiful sunny morning in NYC.

Yesterday, my sister arrived from Mexico in the morning looking sunkissed and resplendent, and we ate some breakfast and visited and she passed out.

Then Shelley and I headed out to meet the glorious Iz for lunch because no visit to NY is complete without seeing her and also for another round of cupcakes at Crumbs.

I had the mini-strawberry buttercream, and it was possibly the best cupcake I've ever had. I also had a caramel cafe au lait.

We headed to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, which let's face it, I dragged her to. I just felt like we should go, partly because of Tateh and Little Girl in Ragtime and since we'd be seeing Little Girl all grown up later that night as Wendla in Spring Awakening. The museum was cool but not as cool I hoped it would be. My favorite part was seeing the different layers and patterns of linoleum on the floor. Maybe I'm morbid, but I wanted to hear more about diseases and squalor and fire and less about the set-up of the garment shop in the apartment. But I'm still glad we went.

After the museum, we went back to her apartment and fetched my sister and walked over to Cola's for Italian food. I had whole wheat penne with peas, asparagus, fennel, and marinara sauce, and we had bread dipped in olive oil and white beans. We had a good talk about religion, faith, and the search for and lack thereof. I started weeping and professing my love for them. My sister had penne with giant prawns and Shelley had salmon with pink sauce. Those are two smart, deep-thinking women. Then it was time to head to the show!!!

Margaritas, Cupcakes, and Samosas

(transcribed from paper journal)

So lunch with Anne at Cowgirl was really super. We had frozen margaritas (me: blood orange, her: lime), sweet potato fries topped with pecans, a grilled veggie salad, and a grilled veggie wrap. We caught up on our lives, and it was so lovely. It definitely did not feel like it had been years and years since we last got together. Anne is so funny, fun, beautiful, and wise.

We headed out in the rain, Anne eschewing an umbrella completely and me gripping mine for dear life. And it's always exciting for a couple of Annie fans to stumble upon One Fifth Avenue.

We arrived at Crumbs, from where to no one's surprise Kymm requested a plain cupcake (but with coconut frosting!), and Anne got red velvet, I got Reese's (shock), and Shelley ordered a cappuccino cupcake.

We rode the subway up to see Kymm and had a nice talk on the train about the pointlessness of seeking a life-altering event that will suddenly make you happy but rather just trying to be at peace where you are, with who you are.

We went to Kymm's theater, posed with our cupcakes, and had a good visit. I parted ways with Anne (tragedy) and Kymm agreed to meet Shelley and me at the movie later.

I fetched Shelley at her ridiculously, insanely fancy office nearby and got to meet some of her work friends and we took a self-portrait in the bathroom, and we headed down to the Angelika, eating our cupcakes and talking about life and love. Kymm made it just in time and we settled in for The Namesake, which I liked very much, and which Kymm was so attuned to that she would start crying BEFORE anything sad happened. Shelley said that it was very faithful to the book, and I'm excited to read the copy I borrowed from her. I found Jacinda Barrett's wig annoying to distraction and thought that Kal Penn wasn't up to the level of the actors who played his parents, but he seemed to give it his best shot. The parents -- God. The parents were amazing. Every iota of each of their performances was so beautiful, so perfect. I was in love with them both, especially the dad.

After the movie, we headed to Indian Row (theme) and ended up at Taj Mahal on 6th, where luckily the food was very good because the ambiance was fouled by a very loud talker who spoke as if into a megaphone about topics too profane to mention in a family journal. Ugh! We split vegetable kurma, chicken and spinach biryani, samosas, and naan. Super delicious. It was just great, despite the idiot nearby, to sit down and have a nice dinner and some wine together. That sort of thing doesn't happen often enough. Look at my beautiful friend!

In short, it was great to spend the evening with her and to see where she works and also to see Anne and Kymm. Anne and I had lots of quality time and discussed a lot of heavy things that we somehow just understand about each other in a way that was really peaceful and inspirational, and it worked out well that Kymm could come to the movie because there is truly no better person to laugh and cry beside in an audience than the Mighty Kymm Zuckert.

People Watching

Pearl River was the store. Cool place. I wandered around some more. Then Anthropologie. Then the rain came. Splashed around with my umbrella and am now at the corner of Hudson and W. 10th, relaxing and people watching through the window at Starbucks.

I dropped my map at some point like I usually do and someone blew his horn and yelled at me, "YOU DROPPED YOUR MAP! WAY BACK THERE!" So that was helpful. It's still raining. I wish I'd brought a book with me.

The music in this Starbucks is loud, almost blaring, and it is really quite agitating. Isn't my caramel macchiato stimulating enough? What gives with the assaulting music, Starbucks?

It's almost time to meet Anne for lunch. I really enjoyed walking through this 'hood despite the rain. I have the cuffs of my cords rolled up in a very dweeb-like manner because if there's anything I hate, it's wet cuffs.

Morning in the City

(transcribed from paper journal)

It's 11 a.m. on Friday, and I'm sitting in Cafe Duke in SoHo with a hazelnut coffee and a poppyseed bagel with veggie cream cheese. Feeling a bit lost and lunatical after the morning trek from Chelsea. Luckily the weather is divine. Of course I wish it were more sunny, but I'm mostly glad it's not (a) raining (b) cold or (c) God forbid snowing. Snow's nice and all but not when I'm wandering around on foot. I mean, who am I? I know, I am weak, delicate, and lame.

"Chasing Cars" is playing in here, and it's playing in every store I enter, it seems. It was fun to get ready with Shelley this morning. It was like the old sleepover days. She went to work, and I walked down 7th Avenue to Greenwich and then through Washington Square Park and thought about when I was totally coming to NYU for grad school and how alarmed my mom and sister looked through our entire walk around the area. Lord! I don't regret not coming, but I do have to wonder what different paths I might have followed in life by living here, meeting people here, taking whatever chances and opportunities that would have been presented to me here. I guess in the Felicity scenario, I did not listen to Noel's impassioned plea, "Stay in New York or perish."

I stopped and looked at some of the Tiles for America, which was a neat display.

I bought some postcards, and after eventually getting to SoHo, I started feeling quite antsy and like I really needed coffee and a snack, and I almost wept when beholding Dean and Deluca as if it were bathed in heavenly light at Prince and Broadway only to realize that it's a giant (albeit awesome) grocery store Dean and Deluca with no tables for taking a load off with a cup of coffee in a chilled-out manner.

I regrouped and spotted Kate's Paperie, thank God, which is always a salvation haven, and I walked around in there and calmed down for a few minutes. Then I ended up at this nearby cafe. There wasn't any sort of real line at the breakfast counter, and I couldn't tell who'd been there before me, so person after person kept shoving forward to order while I just stood there clutching my messenger bag, and I finally worked up the nerve to order and possibly cut in front of someone. Thankfully, I ordered without incident. Now I must find the store whose name I can't ever remember at Broadway and Broome. Which makes me think of Bialystock and Bloom.

Arriving in NY

(transcribed from paper journal)

Last night I went to B.'s. We had an excellent dinner ... I had grilled shrimp over citrus risotto and capers, a side of grilled asparagus, and a spinach/arugula salad with goat cheese, strawberries, and pecans.

This morning we parted ways, and I killed time at Morning Call, Scriptura, Earthsavers, the mall, and Borders, and I finished the absolutely wonderful Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life. (Thank you again, Melissa.)

I then went to the airport, where my flight was delayed for two hours and I saw Terry Bradshaw. I amused myself by reading the latest Vanity Fair and the Sarah Vowell book I got at Borders, Assassination Vacation. Love. Brilliant. So glad that B. played part of The Partly Cloudy Patriot for me and I was able to realize that Sarah Vowell is My People. I almost finished it on the plane ride up here, which went smoothly after the delay o' pain.

I hopped in the cab at LGA and told the driver Shelley's address and he asked me which way I wanted him to go. "...? Uh, the fastest way?" About 20 minutes and $35 later, he dropped me off at her corner. I was frightened by the giant mounds of snow on the sidewalk but relieved to discover that it felt like 60 degrees outside.

We had a joyful reunion, and I told her about my feeling emotional at the sight of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building and that I want to go balls-out tourist and do things here I've never done.

We ordered Thai take-out ... it got delivered, and she accidentally ordered an eggplant dish, and she famously hates eggplant. She drew maps for me and even fixed me a little welcome table of snacks and tulips. And her studio is to die for. And I love it. And she might be the nicest and funniest person ever to live.

I made lunch plans with Annegrrl, said goodnight to B., and have settled in for the night. I can't wait to walk to SoHo in the morning and just really enjoy spring in the city. I really wanted to go to the East Village Tenement Museum in the morning or the Jewish Museum, but apparently they don't open until the afternoon. And I am sort of fantasizing about taking the ferry to Ellis Island after hearing this amazing story about its "dark side," but I don't see that happening ... maybe next trip.

Goodnight, NY!

Mexico: Cancun

View
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

Le Meridien! It took us about four hours and 15 minutes to get to Cancun after breakfast at Rancho Encantada, which we didn't even realize was right on the water until we saw it in the daylight this morning. It was very peaceful, and we dug the school of catfish.

After leaving the jungle it's certainly a huge change to be here in Cancun. Our hotel is surely luxurious and is almost Disney-esque in its perfection. They charged us $10 each for use of the spa, and it turns out that the fee covers amazing his-and-hers showers and towels, a steam room, an aromatherapeutic sauna, a whirlpool, and a Scandinavian bath -- all very decadent and wonderful. I did some Ham Sa-ing in the sauna and felt very cleansed, especially because I took one shower at the beginning and one at the end. Totally worth the $10.

Before that, we ate lunch at the St. Trop restaurant overlooking the beach, eating the most expensive quesadillas and salad in the history of humankind and enjoying a mojito and mango daiquiri. Then we headed to the beach, where he relaxed in a padded chair and I swam for the first time in the Caribbean Sea. Glorious! Totally salty, mildly wavy, and somehow cool and warm at the same time. Perfect.

Then we went in the pool for a little while before heading to the spa. I don't think we're getting massages as they're truly one million dollars, but that's okay. I feel pampered enough by our beautiful room and this balcony overlooking the water on which I'm sitting at dusk in this robe and slippers smelling of grapefruit lotion and the sea. I feel blessed.

Mexico: Laguna Bacalar

Arch
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

Writing from Rancho Encantada in Laguna Bacalar, our stop between Rio Bec Dreams and Cancun. We ended up spending the day at the former after a nice breakfast and a fairly restorative night's sleep, what with the crickets and frogs and jungle breezes blowing the curtains in a dreamy and billowy manner through the screens. (And in spite of the thunder and lightning.) The bed and sheets and pillows as I've said before quite frankly rocked the hizzy.

We went to the ruins at Becan this morning, which were cool. It was very drizzly and grey outside, and that added to the mysterious atmosphere of it all. We climbed to the top of Structure IX which was tiring but afforded quite the spectacular view.

We drove around Xpujil aimlessly in a search for the possibly nonexistent gas station, ate lunch at the bar counter, and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the outdoor restaurant (the scene of last night's monstrous emotional breakdown) reading our books. I am so in love with Behind the Scenes at the Museum that it's bordering on the maniacal.

Finally Roberto the Campechano accountant arrived with the passport, and we set out on our merry two-hour way here. We listened again to our one CD (Mariachi music), purchased in the Mayaland gift shop once we figured out we had no radio antenna and which we now know entirely by heart. (Viva México, viva América! Oh suelo bendito de Dios!) (Ay ay ay ay! Canta y no llores!)

When we arrived at Rancho Encantada, the restaurant was already closed, so we headed into the town of Bacalar and ended up at La Casa Nostra, where L and Pato, the owners, introduced themselves and chatted with us. They were very nice. I ate spaghetti with red sauce (surprise), and he ate enchiladas in mole sauce and we had salad and garlic bread and it was very pleasant even though I spilled a bottle of orange Fanta all over him. Now we're settling in for the night and preparing for our drive to Cancun tomorrow.

Mexico: Calakmul Biosphere Reserve

Cabana
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

We arrived at Rio Bec Dreams in the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve after a four-hour drive. Our stay began with a jolt when B. realized that he forgot his passport at the hotel in Campeche. Oops. We went to the bar to talk to Diane, who advised that an effort to have it mailed would be futile and concocted a scheme wherein Roberto the Campechano accountant would fetch it and bring it with him tomorrow when he comes here on business. Crisis averted! Big phew.

We drove to Chicanna this afternoon because Diane told us the gods would speak to us there. The gods did not speak to us, but the mosquitoes sure did. Thank you, Off Wipes. We returned to our cabana and took a brief siesta. I love our cabana! The sheets and towels are super nice and soft, and the decor is lovely and relaxing, and the bed is sort of a magical tropical princess sort of bed. There are many small bug carcasses atop the canopy that look startlingly prominent when facing heavenward so I'm just avoiding that view whenever possible.

Which leads me to the topic of bugs. Sweet merciful and holy Jesus. We sat down to wait for dinner, along with a Chalmatian and a trio of Utah Mormons. And Tally the most awesome Jack Russell. And I noted that there were lots of little bugs crawling on the (beautiful, elegantly set) table and in the water glasses and such, but I resolved myself to their presence as we are in fact in the jungle. It was with a mounting horror, though, that I realized that buzzing about the overhead lights in that agonizingly loud, slamming way was an unspeakably enormous flying cockroach. I knew because I just instinctually know these things. It's like radar. I've honed it since childhood. I didn't even have to see it -- I knew. I asked B. if that sound I was hearing was a giant flying cockroach and he assured me that it was just a big bug. But I knew. I knew. I could hear it careening overhead, and I knew that something very bad was about to happen.

And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw it coming in for the dive-bomb. I knew it had made some sort of contact. I leapt out of my seat instantly and practically flew to the opposite corner of the dining area. I think I made my way back to our table after apologizing to the Utah family, foolishly assuming that the offender had since hurled itself away from our area. But I saw it. And I asked with my back turned, "Did it land on our table?" "No, it did not land on our table," B. lied. But I saw it. IT WAS RIGHT THERE ON OUR TABLE. I again sprinted to the Mormon corner while he heroically trapped it under his glass and somehow killed it with a magazine about Mayan ruins.

I begged some more pardon from the other diners and somehow managed to choke back the vomit and continue to sit there. Then as Rick was at our table talking to us, another one flew down and landed on his shoulder in a shudderingly awful-sounding vibrating descent. I huddled over into B.'s lap in terror lest it fall on me. Then a praying mantis somehow ended up crawling inside B.'s shirt. I don't even know. He was handling all of this with great calm. Then our food finally came ... pork chops yucatecan for him with rice and corn and guacamole and spaghetti for me with tomatoes, onions, and peppers. All yummy.

Then I'm not sure what happened. I was so shaken by the giant cucarachas that a small bug hit me in the face mid-bite and I jumped so violently that I ended up slinging half my enormous plate of pasta in red sauce off of the plate and onto the white tablecloth. Then I started crying. I scooped up as much of the pasta back onto the plate as I could, desecrating two pretty yellow cloth napkins in the process, and started shoveling it into my mouth in misery and mortification. The white tablecloth looked like something had been slaughtered on it. I was still sniffling and recovering from all of this indignity when something loud buzzed in my ear and I knocked over my water. Which was just as well as there were bugs floating in it anyway. Then dinner was decreed officially over.

B. exhibited the patience of a saint, the other guests and Rick and Diane were utterly gracious about my total spazosity, and it's really quite beautiful here despite the bug mayhem. The bed is unbelievably comfy, and there are stars by the zillions.

Mexico: Campeche

Francis Drake Hotel
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

We're relaxing in our room in Campeche at the Francis Drake Hotel. It would be a lot more relaxing if we didn't have a balcony door that doesn't close all the way overlooking a very busy street where apparently the Campechano tradition is to rev your engines and honk your horn in an ear-splitting and nonstop fashion. The shower was a nightmare. The shower door doesn't close all the way, either, continuing the theme of very aggravating ajar door ridiculousness and I had to use one hand to hold it closed while getting blasted in the eyeballs with the shower nozzle that cannot be repositioned. AUGH. Thank God the bed is large and comfortable or this hotel would get a big fat zero from me.

But I don't want to focus too much on the blinding (shower) and deafening (horns, motorcycles) aspects of Campeche because the truth is that I love it! The colors, the buildings, the people passing you on the sidewalk who smile like they mean it. The walls with the cannons that protected the city from pirates. Very deliciously cool. It's a really nice place, and I'm very glad we came here. I probably won't sleep much, but what in the hell else is new?

Photo by B

We ate a very yummy lunch at La Pigua ... the best on our trip so far. Seafood crepes, coconut shrimp with applesauce, and stuffed shrimp. It was a camarones extravaganza to be sure. We each had two beers and then good strong cafe con leche and coconut cake. DELISH. The guidebook described it as "the place local professionals come to linger for lunch," and that is dead on. Laptops and the whole bit.

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It's now 10:40 pm, and we had a nice stroll around the historical centre -- along the water and through the park/plaza/whatever it's called. The Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception looked beautiful all lit up for the evening. We ate at Casa Vieja, which had a great view but unfortunately had food that tasted like ass. Shrimp the size of corn kernels and teeth-breaking bread. We got out of there as quickly as possible and left a giant tip for the elderly waiter who looked like he might keel over from the frantic pace at any moment.

Photo by B

We took a leisurely stroll back to the hotel and stopped for ice cream -- chocolate and pistachio. Overall, it was a lovely day in a very beautiful, friendly, and lively city. I recommend Campeche to all.

Mexico: Chichen Itza

Hacienda Chichen
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

We are here at the Hacienda Chichen. I'm sitting by the pool after a quick dip. The water was surprisingly chilly considering that while walking around Chichen Itza earlier it felt approximately like one billion degrees outside.

Anyway, the trip here was pretty smooth. We watched Big Love on the plane, and I read a lot of Gilead. We drove two hours or so to the hotel and ate dinner at the hotel restaurant -- I had some shrimp and he had chicken with honey chipotle sauce and I ate three of some of the best rolls ever. We watched a little more Big Love before bed. I slept like bung, partly because that's just who I am and partly because the pillow was apparently constructed from a leftover slab of rock from Chichen Itza and the sheets were so sandpapery that it felt like I was getting brush burn every time I rolled over.

We headed to breakfast -- fruit and more rolls and coffee and kickass orange juice and huevos rancheros. Then it was off to the ruins! Despite the scorching heat and the rivers of sweat pouring down our faces the entire time, it was super cool and fascinating. Sort of hard to process how the temples and other buildings were built and how they're still standing and what they all mean.

Photo by B

The experience probably would have been a bit more magical, mystical, and mysterious if not for the endless rows of vendors, but those people have to earn a living and it's their country after all, hello. Tonight we're going to the light show, and tomorrow we head to Campeche. Oh, and we ate lunch at the crazed Mayaland buffet. The steamed carrots were really, really good.

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Okay. After relaxing in the pool and in the room, we headed to the light show at Chichen Itza. It was very windy and cold and B. had to enter into a body-slamming frenzy for chairs in the pitch-dark blackness. The lights were pretty cool; the narration was over-the-top and somewhat comical. We beat the rush and came back to the Hacienda to eat. He had steak, and I had shrimp and fettuccine in tomato sauce and we had chocolate ice cream. Oh, and earlier we made wishes in the old wishing well. We came back to the room and got organized. Tomorrow we head to Campeche.

Makes whole the ruined

Jetty wave
Originally uploaded by Elizalou.

A weekend away to a beautiful place is good for the soul. (Although I will never understand why the airport security guy took away my tiny, less-than-three-ounce bottle of hand sanitizer and told me that if I'd had it in a clear ziploc bag in my purse instead of just loose in my purse then I would have been able to keep it.)

I posted recently that I've been enjoying Julia Sweeney's writings about atheism, skepticism, and letting go of God. Her words and ideas have really resonated with me. I read what she writes, and I think, totally. I totally agree with that. Science! Intellectualism! Facts! Of course.

I just finished Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, which is a book not about letting go of God but about seeking God, and it totally resonated with me, too. I loved every page. It moved me the way that Anne Lamott moves me, the way that the Weepies move me. I think I'll read it over and over, and I think it could even possibly change my life a little bit.

So I'm not sure what to make of that.

I marked this passage (along with about two dozen others in the book) because it sounds like Elizabeth Gilbert loves her sister like I love my sister:

My sister's faith is in learning. Her sacred text is the Oxford English Dictionary. As she bows her head in study, fingers speeding across the pages, she is with her God. I see my sister in prayer again later that same day when she drops to her knees in the middle of the Roman Forum, clears away some litter off the face of the soil (as though erasing a blackboard), then takes up a small stone and draws for me in the dirt a blueprint of a classic Romanesque basilica. She points from her drawing to the ruin before her, leading me to understand (even visually challenged me can understand!) what that building once must have looked like eighteen centuries earlier. She sketches with her finger in the empty air the missing arches, the nave, the windows long gone. Like Harold with his Purple Crayon, she fills in the absent cosmos with her imagination and makes whole the ruined.

My sister has made whole my ruins for as long as she has been alive. I hope to be able to do the same for her, again and again and forever.