Monday, January 12, 2009
Recipe for Disaster
If you are aware of my infamously tiny bladder (Really, though. As a kid I had a mental map of all facilities in the greater Ogden area. One time, I had to bail off a float in Ogden’s 24th of July parade, pass my violin to a “stage” mom and make a mad dash for Nordstrom.) you will know that leaving my keys at home when there is a key to the ladies’ room that is different from the key to the men’s room and I’m the only woman in the office once the receptionist leaves could be a bad thing.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
So This Is Home.
When I began this blog about a year and a half ago, I found a quote I felt summed Noah and I up perfectly. If you're actually reading on our page (cuz you rock it old school, I can respect that), you can refer above - but for you Google Readers, allow me to recap:
"It's when you're safe at home that you wish you were having an adventure. When you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home."
At the time, we were definitely safe at home. And I was okay with that.
But there was a bit of an itch that needed scratching.
Friday morning we drove away from our safe at home stage, spent a few (un)eventful days on the road (which I've already made you endure) and as of 4:00 p.m. Sunday evening, we drove right smack into our adventure.
You know it's going to reek of adventure when you drive along your new avenue counting building numbers - 83, 87, 91... and realize you live next door to the fine fried chicken eatery "Pluck U." We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
The first walk down the dim, skinny hallway to our January home was a little, "oh man, we're nuts."
Then we met a neighbor on the sidewalk who was looking to move in the next few weeks, he suggested maybe we find a two bedroom place "and you and your husband can be in one room, my brother and I will be in the other?" Noah and I set some pretty wacky ground rules when we said "I do." One of which was to never move in with perfect stranger brothers in Manhattan. I know, it seemed odd at the time... The exchange left me feeling a little, "oh man, we're really nuts."
Monday morning, we had our dependable little BMW washed and the oil changed for its new owner (just treat 'er good...) and went grocery shopping for the basics. After we took out a second mortgage to cover these extravagant activities, I thought, "oh man, we're seriously nuts."
We made a few appointments with some realtors to view some apartments in the Village and decided to try to offset 36 hours in the car by walking the 8 mile roundtrip (or so says MapQuest, and it doesn't even know about the dead end we ran into and had to retrace). In the essence of time, we spedwalked (word?) on our way there. But as we made our way back toward midtown, dropping into any store that caught our attention and stopping for the requisite $1 slice of pizza to call our dinner, it hit me.
We're really lucky.
Bring on this adventure.
And heck, bring on Achmed. And his brother.
"It's when you're safe at home that you wish you were having an adventure. When you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home."
At the time, we were definitely safe at home. And I was okay with that.
But there was a bit of an itch that needed scratching.
Friday morning we drove away from our safe at home stage, spent a few (un)eventful days on the road (which I've already made you endure) and as of 4:00 p.m. Sunday evening, we drove right smack into our adventure.
You know it's going to reek of adventure when you drive along your new avenue counting building numbers - 83, 87, 91... and realize you live next door to the fine fried chicken eatery "Pluck U." We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
The first walk down the dim, skinny hallway to our January home was a little, "oh man, we're nuts."
Then we met a neighbor on the sidewalk who was looking to move in the next few weeks, he suggested maybe we find a two bedroom place "and you and your husband can be in one room, my brother and I will be in the other?" Noah and I set some pretty wacky ground rules when we said "I do." One of which was to never move in with perfect stranger brothers in Manhattan. I know, it seemed odd at the time... The exchange left me feeling a little, "oh man, we're really nuts."
Monday morning, we had our dependable little BMW washed and the oil changed for its new owner (just treat 'er good...) and went grocery shopping for the basics. After we took out a second mortgage to cover these extravagant activities, I thought, "oh man, we're seriously nuts."
We made a few appointments with some realtors to view some apartments in the Village and decided to try to offset 36 hours in the car by walking the 8 mile roundtrip (or so says MapQuest, and it doesn't even know about the dead end we ran into and had to retrace). In the essence of time, we spedwalked (word?) on our way there. But as we made our way back toward midtown, dropping into any store that caught our attention and stopping for the requisite $1 slice of pizza to call our dinner, it hit me.
We're really lucky.
Bring on this adventure.
And heck, bring on Achmed. And his brother.
Monday, January 5, 2009
On The Road Again
You can’t really embark on a 33-hour drive without an impressive collection of stories on the other end. Buckle up, here are a few of the highlights:
We borrowed a bit of genius from the Kastelers and decided to vacuum pack our clothes – poor man style. Garbage bags, rubber bands and a vacuum. After half my closet reduced to an impressive 3-square foot blob that eerily resembled body parts in a lawn and leaf bag, I was sold on the space-saving idea and I was ready to vacuum pack toiletries, the Bosch, even one of us, if it bought us a little more room in the 318ti.
The morning of our departure, my parents came down to help with last-minute details (a tangent I cannot pursue because this is meant to be a funny post and if I dwell on their utterly amazing selflessness I will get weepy. Again.) and as space in the car rapidly diminished, Noah leaned against the hatchback as my dad handed him the last few items to be shoved into each nook and cranny. Finally, Noah had to throw his whole weight into the hatchback to get it closed.
In the first few miles of the trip, one such vacuum packed blob fell from its precarious perch above my head and spent the remainder of the drive slowly sucking in air and winnowing the passenger out of leg room to the point the driver’s seat actually became the desirable spot to occupy.
The remainder of the PMVPBs (poor man’s vacuum packed bags) were also guilty of sucking and upon our first night’s stop in Grand Island, NE, we determined it wise not to open the hatchback and disturb the growing beast. Which also meant no access to the overnight bag we’d packed with pajamas, a change of clothes, oh – you know, deodorant. I did have toothbrushes and toothpaste in my purse, so don’t fear, our dental well-being was not compromised, but just feel fortunate you didn’t have to meet us on the eastern half of these United States (sorry Bryan and Lauren).
Somewhere outside Chicago, Noah and I engaged in the following brilliant conversation:
A: “It basically blows my mind how much faster you can travel by plane. A flight to Chicago takes, what? Three hours? We’ve been on the road for two days.”
N: “Well, when you’re clipping along at roughly…”
A: “A few thousand miles per hour?”
PAUSE
N: “No. Um, more like 400.”
A: “Maybe I meant the Concorde. You don’t know that.”
N: “Even sound only travels at 700 mph.”
A: “Yeah, okay.”
And that pretty much sums of the highlights of the drive. We leave you now with a few stats and awards compiled mostly out of boredom.
Number of Stolen String Cheese: 2 (Noah slipped them into his pocket – I know, fishy right? – and forgot they were there until he reached in to retrieve the toll ticket in Indiana. He assures me stolen cheese tastes better than the kind you pay for. He feels bad for stealing the cheese but feels devilishly good about sticking it to Walmart.)
Friendliest Stranger: Produce Section Gentleman (We stopped dead in our tracks when we noticed the outrageously low price for oranges in WalMart and paused to debate it – healthier than the sugared candy segments; stickier, however. You know, typical oranges in the car conversations. That’s when the random fellow shopper interjected to see if we were looking for something in particular and could he help us find something? Not even an employee, this guy. Impressive. Maybe he was auditioning for a job there.)
Most Desperate Music Consumption: Lose Yourself – Eminem (Collin, this is on a mix you made for us one time. How did it get by us all these months? I leaned to change the song so we wouldn’t be overwhelmed by its awesomeness, until I realized 33 hours in a car is no time to be picky. Close contenders: Don’t Wanna Lose You Now – Backstreet Boys and Cookie Starts with C.)
Smelliest City: Ogalalla, NE
Most Excellent City Name: Buttzville, NJ
We borrowed a bit of genius from the Kastelers and decided to vacuum pack our clothes – poor man style. Garbage bags, rubber bands and a vacuum. After half my closet reduced to an impressive 3-square foot blob that eerily resembled body parts in a lawn and leaf bag, I was sold on the space-saving idea and I was ready to vacuum pack toiletries, the Bosch, even one of us, if it bought us a little more room in the 318ti.
The morning of our departure, my parents came down to help with last-minute details (a tangent I cannot pursue because this is meant to be a funny post and if I dwell on their utterly amazing selflessness I will get weepy. Again.) and as space in the car rapidly diminished, Noah leaned against the hatchback as my dad handed him the last few items to be shoved into each nook and cranny. Finally, Noah had to throw his whole weight into the hatchback to get it closed.
In the first few miles of the trip, one such vacuum packed blob fell from its precarious perch above my head and spent the remainder of the drive slowly sucking in air and winnowing the passenger out of leg room to the point the driver’s seat actually became the desirable spot to occupy.
The remainder of the PMVPBs (poor man’s vacuum packed bags) were also guilty of sucking and upon our first night’s stop in Grand Island, NE, we determined it wise not to open the hatchback and disturb the growing beast. Which also meant no access to the overnight bag we’d packed with pajamas, a change of clothes, oh – you know, deodorant. I did have toothbrushes and toothpaste in my purse, so don’t fear, our dental well-being was not compromised, but just feel fortunate you didn’t have to meet us on the eastern half of these United States (sorry Bryan and Lauren).
Somewhere outside Chicago, Noah and I engaged in the following brilliant conversation:
A: “It basically blows my mind how much faster you can travel by plane. A flight to Chicago takes, what? Three hours? We’ve been on the road for two days.”
N: “Well, when you’re clipping along at roughly…”
A: “A few thousand miles per hour?”
PAUSE
N: “No. Um, more like 400.”
A: “Maybe I meant the Concorde. You don’t know that.”
N: “Even sound only travels at 700 mph.”
A: “Yeah, okay.”
And that pretty much sums of the highlights of the drive. We leave you now with a few stats and awards compiled mostly out of boredom.
Number of Stolen String Cheese: 2 (Noah slipped them into his pocket – I know, fishy right? – and forgot they were there until he reached in to retrieve the toll ticket in Indiana. He assures me stolen cheese tastes better than the kind you pay for. He feels bad for stealing the cheese but feels devilishly good about sticking it to Walmart.)
Friendliest Stranger: Produce Section Gentleman (We stopped dead in our tracks when we noticed the outrageously low price for oranges in WalMart and paused to debate it – healthier than the sugared candy segments; stickier, however. You know, typical oranges in the car conversations. That’s when the random fellow shopper interjected to see if we were looking for something in particular and could he help us find something? Not even an employee, this guy. Impressive. Maybe he was auditioning for a job there.)
Most Desperate Music Consumption: Lose Yourself – Eminem (Collin, this is on a mix you made for us one time. How did it get by us all these months? I leaned to change the song so we wouldn’t be overwhelmed by its awesomeness, until I realized 33 hours in a car is no time to be picky. Close contenders: Don’t Wanna Lose You Now – Backstreet Boys and Cookie Starts with C.)
Smelliest City: Ogalalla, NE
Most Excellent City Name: Buttzville, NJ
Monday, December 22, 2008
Guatemala - Day Uno. Dos. Tres.
If you recall the reference to Guatemala in our Red Lion debacle post a few months ago, you may remember we marked our second anniversary with a trip to beautiful Central America. As it's been a good two months since we landed back on U.S. soil, it's probable I will not remember the details of said trip. But here's my valiant effort...
When we landed in Guatemala and tried to strike up friendly conversation with the customs gentleman, that's when it hit me: I've never been in a Spanish-speaking country before. Bizarre, non? I feel like I've assembled a pretty decent collection of passport stamps over the years, and Spanish-speaking seems a little more accessible than most. But no. This was going to be totally new to me and I was stoked.
UNO.
Mostly just traveled.
Kindly chauffeured to the airport by our favorite buddy, Quinn.
Enjoyed a lovely chicken tarragon sandwich from Au Bon Pain in airport.
Arrived in Guatemala, shuttled to Marriott - Guatemala City, worried we were getting giardia by trying to be polite and sipping the brownish water the kind bellboy handed us. Learned there were peaches and apples soaking in the water and contributing to the brownish hue. Still didn't ingest much/any unsealed water on the trip regardless.
Watched World Trade Center as we fell asleep. Learned helpful Spanish dialogue by reading subtitles.
DOS.
On Monday, Augustine - who would, by week's end, solidify his spot as most gracious, accommodating, giving friend in the whole Central AM - picked us up and took us to the church in Guatemala City where most Elders/Sisters were being directed to their next transfer and where we'd inherit our own "transfer" - Elder Riley.
It was a completely surreal experience for me to be around all these missionaries. What a remarkable time in their lives, when they literally dedicate all their time, devotion and energy to others. It was really uplifting to be around this whole group of 19-23 year-olds and realize they were giving such a huge part of themselves to something they believe and love. It was also fairly entertaining to be around so many people in missionary-mode. I've been around my share of individual returned missionaries in all their recently-reintroduced-to-society awkwardness, but the slightly awkward, completely adorable, always friendly sum of all those 100+ missionaries was impressive. :) Shook an awful lot of hands.
After reuniting with our favorite white shirt and black name tag in the bunch, we headed out for some lunch at a very authentic little establishment - I believe they call it the "centro comerical" :) - and a death-defying driving tour of Guatemala City. That is no reflection on the mad skills possessed by our driver, but man - how are there not more accidents here? Later, we headed to the mission president's home for dinner and Family Home Evening, where I secured a delicious win in a game of BURRO against Noah with an impressive granny shot from half-court.
TRES.
The next morning, we were able to go to the temple in Guatemala City. It was beautiful and such an amazing spirit exists there. It was interesting to feel the slightly slower pace of the culture even in an otherwise familiar setting. The people were so content to talk and share stories - and bless Christopher's heart for translating everything. The domino effect of stories and jokes was always fun to watch. Someone tells a story. Guatemalans and Christopher laugh. Gringos stare and smile. Christopher translates. Gringos laugh. Everyone laughs.
Afterward, we drove up the mountain for lunch and for a view of Guatemala City.
That evening, we made the first of a few rounds of visits to church members and friends of Christopher's. I'll beg his forgiveness when I group all the visits together in one place, though they did take place over a few days. I was impressed that in all the cities, all the people and all the visits, one commonality was thoroughly evident - these people absolutely adore Elder Riley. It was so apparent how hard he worked, how tirelessly he served and how wholly he loved the people in Guatemala. And we were embraced and loved by association. I decided it's a lot of fun to pick up a missionary. It's especially fun to pick up a missionary who did such a phenomenal job.
In all the visits, we met so many beautiful, kind, incredible people. But one little buddy in particular really stole a piece of my heart.
Clearly, I have very little shame in releasing this terribly flattering photo of myself to the world wide web. Just wait, peeps. They're gonna get better.
When we landed in Guatemala and tried to strike up friendly conversation with the customs gentleman, that's when it hit me: I've never been in a Spanish-speaking country before. Bizarre, non? I feel like I've assembled a pretty decent collection of passport stamps over the years, and Spanish-speaking seems a little more accessible than most. But no. This was going to be totally new to me and I was stoked.
UNO.
Mostly just traveled.
Kindly chauffeured to the airport by our favorite buddy, Quinn.
Enjoyed a lovely chicken tarragon sandwich from Au Bon Pain in airport.
Arrived in Guatemala, shuttled to Marriott - Guatemala City, worried we were getting giardia by trying to be polite and sipping the brownish water the kind bellboy handed us. Learned there were peaches and apples soaking in the water and contributing to the brownish hue. Still didn't ingest much/any unsealed water on the trip regardless.
Watched World Trade Center as we fell asleep. Learned helpful Spanish dialogue by reading subtitles.
DOS.
On Monday, Augustine - who would, by week's end, solidify his spot as most gracious, accommodating, giving friend in the whole Central AM - picked us up and took us to the church in Guatemala City where most Elders/Sisters were being directed to their next transfer and where we'd inherit our own "transfer" - Elder Riley.
It was a completely surreal experience for me to be around all these missionaries. What a remarkable time in their lives, when they literally dedicate all their time, devotion and energy to others. It was really uplifting to be around this whole group of 19-23 year-olds and realize they were giving such a huge part of themselves to something they believe and love. It was also fairly entertaining to be around so many people in missionary-mode. I've been around my share of individual returned missionaries in all their recently-reintroduced-to-society awkwardness, but the slightly awkward, completely adorable, always friendly sum of all those 100+ missionaries was impressive. :) Shook an awful lot of hands.
After reuniting with our favorite white shirt and black name tag in the bunch, we headed out for some lunch at a very authentic little establishment - I believe they call it the "centro comerical" :) - and a death-defying driving tour of Guatemala City. That is no reflection on the mad skills possessed by our driver, but man - how are there not more accidents here? Later, we headed to the mission president's home for dinner and Family Home Evening, where I secured a delicious win in a game of BURRO against Noah with an impressive granny shot from half-court.
TRES.
The next morning, we were able to go to the temple in Guatemala City. It was beautiful and such an amazing spirit exists there. It was interesting to feel the slightly slower pace of the culture even in an otherwise familiar setting. The people were so content to talk and share stories - and bless Christopher's heart for translating everything. The domino effect of stories and jokes was always fun to watch. Someone tells a story. Guatemalans and Christopher laugh. Gringos stare and smile. Christopher translates. Gringos laugh. Everyone laughs.
Afterward, we drove up the mountain for lunch and for a view of Guatemala City.That evening, we made the first of a few rounds of visits to church members and friends of Christopher's. I'll beg his forgiveness when I group all the visits together in one place, though they did take place over a few days. I was impressed that in all the cities, all the people and all the visits, one commonality was thoroughly evident - these people absolutely adore Elder Riley. It was so apparent how hard he worked, how tirelessly he served and how wholly he loved the people in Guatemala. And we were embraced and loved by association. I decided it's a lot of fun to pick up a missionary. It's especially fun to pick up a missionary who did such a phenomenal job.In all the visits, we met so many beautiful, kind, incredible people. But one little buddy in particular really stole a piece of my heart.
Clearly, I have very little shame in releasing this terribly flattering photo of myself to the world wide web. Just wait, peeps. They're gonna get better.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Broken.
Wednesday night, I flew home from my last TSG business trip. It has been such a crazy week of PR initiatives, board meetings, pitching media, tracking down franchisees, finding out we're homeless in NY... :), that I think I finally broke my brain.
I plugged in my headphones to enjoy some mindless vieiwing of the in-flight movie and watched for a good 7 minutes before I realized I was on one of the music stations. I just assumed Fred Claus opened with a nice slow jazz montage.
I plugged in my headphones to enjoy some mindless vieiwing of the in-flight movie and watched for a good 7 minutes before I realized I was on one of the music stations. I just assumed Fred Claus opened with a nice slow jazz montage.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
You Can't Take It With You
WARNING: Among the more materialistic posts in my time.
As Noah and I prepare to make the trek eastward, we've limited our rations to one little white car's worth.
After clothes of the professional sort, a few linens and limited kitchenwares - it leaves little in the way of frivolity. And that means my birthday gift from Noah will have to reside elsewhere for the next few years.
You will be sorely missed.
As Noah and I prepare to make the trek eastward, we've limited our rations to one little white car's worth.
After clothes of the professional sort, a few linens and limited kitchenwares - it leaves little in the way of frivolity. And that means my birthday gift from Noah will have to reside elsewhere for the next few years.
You will be sorely missed.
How to Win Over a Two-Year-Old
Hang out at her favorite haunts.
Take an an active interest in the things she enjoys.
Engage in her favorite activites.
A good game of hide-and-seek is typically in order.
Throw in a lil' sugar.
My niece, Abbey, just can't get enough of her Uncle NoNo. I think the feeling is mutual.
Take an an active interest in the things she enjoys.
Engage in her favorite activites.
A good game of hide-and-seek is typically in order.
Throw in a lil' sugar.
My niece, Abbey, just can't get enough of her Uncle NoNo. I think the feeling is mutual.
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