Daily Bite

Day 1- Melange of Vegetables

2012-02-01T23:48:00.000-05:00

As this blog has been used for many personal experiments and exercises in self improvement, I am using it now to help work on my 31st goal on my list of things to do before I turn 40. This particular goal is a health challenge. EAT MORE VEGGIES!

For the next 29 days (Hello February, making this easier on me) I will be posting an attempt every day. As lunch was chips and guacamole and strawberries and breakfast was oatmeal, raisin, chocolate chip cookies, dinner reigns supreme... Cornish game hen, quinoa with a "melange" of vegetables- Trader Joe's word, not mine, with caramelized brussel sprouts and roasted asparagus.

If you want to read up on the whole challenge, or see what I've accomplished or attempted to accomplish so far, here's the most recent post: New Year, Healthy Mii.

Thanksgiving

2011-11-27T20:00:00.001-05:00

I arrived home around ten at night after many days of odd sleeping patterns and decided to dye my hair. I had left pennsylvania at three in the morning, drove to new york, flew to Boston, wrapped up my black friday shopping with a pair of black pants and then worked a flight to San Francisco. I was tired, yes. And craving ten hours of sleeping my bed, but my hair was so atrociously bad, I just had to dye it first.

My hair supply store was not opened and wouldn't be open durning my time at home before flying back, so I cobbled together the bits and pieces of hair color I already had at home, golden brown, dark brown, and violet. I was a little concerned that my damaged hair would turn out purple, but I did have black as a back up. Forty minutes later, much to my delight my hair turned a nice brownish red. My bathroom on the other hand was a purple spotted disaster.

Now, my apartment is not a fancy place. My kitchen has two mix matched linoleum tiles in the middle of the floor and the bathroom is a luxurious pale green. We are allowed to paint, so the other rooms have been improved, but as far as the bathroom goes, my strategy has been a rocken ruffled shower curtain, purple towels, and a cute clock. I can't imagine a single color that would compliment or improve the green tile.

So I finished dying my hair and I realized there where purple hair dye dots all over every surface. I swiped some of them with a tissue to see if they had stained yet and they left little swipes of purple in their wake. The hot shower I took to rinse my hair did not improve the situtation for it made some of the dots sweat some. Excellent. I should have been more concerned, but then, at 2:30 in the morning I was just thankful. I was thankful for my little crappy apartment where I could stain the walls and floors and sink, then shrug and go to bed.

A Sad, Sad Thing

2011-11-17T23:48:00.000-05:00

My brother recently told me, nothing is sadder then an unupdated blog. Which makes mine a sad, sad thing.

The problem is, aside from moving across the country, not much is going on around here. No really. The other day I was so bored I whipped up a new blouse before girls night. Now, I'm not saying the blouse was perfect, I discovered after wearing it for hours that I sewed the back strap in noticeably backwards, but I had enough time on my hands to walk to the zip car place half a mile away, realize I didn't have my zip card, walk back to my house, walk back to the zip car place (did I mention it was uphill both ways?). I made it to Joannes fabrics, had a leisurely lunch at Mission Cheese, walked back up hill and then sat around debating whether or not to actually sew, sewed, broke my sewing machine, and then hand stitched the rest of my hem.

And let's just be honest here. The only reason I was sewing is because I have been baking too much which simply means I am getting fat and need new clothes. Well, I'm elaborating slightly, but if I don't stop baking then it will get to that point pretty soon. Fortunately there's all those hills...

But now that it is autumn I just can't stop myself! Butternut squash mac and cheese, butternut squash enchiladas, stuffed baked apples and dutch apple pie, pumpkin pie, coconut oatmeal cookies with cinnamon chips, and tonight butternut squash soup with creme fraiche and croutons. Oh, and those pumpkin scones I made earlier today. And then ate three.

Clearly I need a new hobby. Perhaps, perhaps, updating my sad, sad blog.

Sage and Caramel Tomato Tart

2011-07-20T16:43:00.009-04:00

A Pate Brisee.

A few heirloom tomatoes.

A sprig of sage, sugar and butter.

Boil, stir, bake and toil.

Yeah!

Domesticity: Episode 1: Sewing Lessons.

2011-02-09T19:24:00.019-05:00

In an effort to be a better seamstress, and as an excuse to by swads of pink material, I decided to make my niece some baby clothes. Now, I am not good at sewing, although I do have flashes of talent here and there, so I thought I would try using a pattern to really do things right. Between the two patterns, three types of fabric, buttons, zippers and thread, I spent more on supplies then if I has actually just gone to Target. Lesson 1: Hobbies are expensive.

The sewing machine wasn't working well, so $90 dollars and two weeks later, I was ready to start. The thread was pulling grey, so I pulled out the bible to figure out why.

Not only have I still not figured out why, but it took me a shirt and a skirt and half of a dress to figure out that the thread in my bobbin was cream, not pink. Lesson 2: Sewing has a learning curve.

After cutting all my material, patterns and elastics, I found I had a few problems. 1. I couldn't figure out how to read this:

And I didn't have, or couldn't find all the right pieces, for some reason:

Plus all the sizes seems a little skewed. I ended up using clothes that I bought from Target for Brooke Moulton's baby son (shhh... don't tell her) as a model for a one year old girl.

Lesson 3 and 4: Don't bother with patterns, just go to Target.

There was definitely some cussing involved, but since I don't have a picture of that, how about all the stitches I pulled out after sewing the dress inside out. Lesson 5: Pay attention.

I had to get creative with the patterns do to some of the above mentioned problems and added some fun details to distract from the flaws: (Was that lesson 6?)

In the end, I ended up with a few new sewing skills and the cutest pair of bloomer shorts I've ever seen. (I want them adult style.) Lesson 7: Practice makes cute clothes.

And a cute shirt with puff sleeves.

A little skirt.

And finally a dress with buttons on the back and even a zipper.

Introducing Lulu's Spring Collection:

Domesticity Lessons End.

Craving French

2011-02-05T09:36:00.003-05:00

I went to bed last night with the odd familiar sensation of a craving. When I woke this morning, that unmistakable desire was still there. It was lingering and intensifying much like when I deprive myself of a brownie. Which, on a side note, I am also craving. But this craving wasn't for food, it was for a city. Paris in this particular case. Which really, when I think about it is a little ironic.

After spending a month there on my honeymoon, in september, I did begin the little sprouts of love for the city. There were many things I enjoyed about Paris, plus my amazing husband and I started our new life there. But we were ready to escape our teeny tiny apartment next door to a spouse abusing neighbor, an experience that really tainted my trip, and for a much more shallow reason I was ready to ditch the cold weather. I really thought when I left I would spend the rest of my French language learning experiences exploring other French speaking cities.

This little nudge of craving was exciting. To crave a city, it means that city has gone far inside me. London has been a frequent craving. I love London. I love the parks, the streets, the neighborhoods, the restaurants, the people, the weather, the buses, the atmosphere. I've been with my mom, a friend, a group of friends and by myself even and every time I'm there it's harder and harder to return home. On days off I fantasize that I can just pop over on British Airways (another love of mine) and walk through Notting Hill and grab a biscuit and some tea and relax while the real tourists walk by.

This craving isn't exclusive to London, or now I guess Paris. I've had a craving for New York and Ho Chi Minh City many times. New York is easy to satisfy, but Saigon... There I crave the noise and buzz and color and heat and, yes, the food. This one dish in particular with hominy and onions and something sweet. But it's not just the food itself. It is the restaurants with service so different from anything at home. I'm attracted to its unfamiliar and unexpected. I also strongly crave the four dollar blow dry. Sigh.

San Francisco is also one of my craved cities. But the feeling there is the craving of home. My mom grew up there and my aunt and grandmother and now my sister and her family live or have lived there. We've spent many a thanksgiving, Christmas and summer vacation there. So when I crave San Francisco it's not just the off beat city I'm craving but it's also home. If I just hung out in a house kissing my bald little niece and yelling at my nephew to stay out of trouble, I would still be satisfied. Okay, so I might still need to eat out in the plethora of fabulous restaurants at least once in a while.

But back to Paris. This craving isn't for a specific spot or activity. It is that feeling that I have when I'm in Paris. It may have started with the crepes I was making the other day. (googled low calorie recipes for my "life style change" aka "diet" and veggie crepes showed up) It made me nostalgic for a butter and sugar crepe. And the crepe making old man who told me I could ditch my husband and he, the old man, would be right here waiting, "I'm off at nine." He then proceded to cover my crepe in rum which was exceedingly tasty.

It may have started with the crepes, but today when I woke up I wanted to go fetch real french bread and maybe pop by a farmers market. Grab a cafe noir and wander through the Ile Saint Louis. I wanted to hang out at an outdoor cafe and smell cigarette smoke. Actually, I could pass on the smoke, but it's that vibe and feeling that created my craving. The husband is out of town, maybe I could make a visit to my old crepe making french man, after all he did tell me, "Zees okay... I here every day. You come back."

Baking Battles

2010-07-23T17:17:00.010-04:00

Attempt two of macaron making yielded mixed results. Realizing I used less eggs then I was supposed to yesterday, I upped the egg quantity and immediately had better results. That is, I had better results with the meringue part of the process. I piped them out and they were looking beautiful.

If fact, they were looking so good I decided to make some plain pink ones as well. Not wanting to over whip my eggs, I think I stopped a little too soon and unfortunately my little pink delicacies encountered humidity on top of under whipping.

I was using the epicurious recipe for earl grey chocolate macarons, leaving out the salt and the earl grey. The recipe up to the baking point seemed pretty fail proof. The baking directions didn't appeal to me, so I switched to a different method that I had read about in my research. They burned into crispy wafers.

So I referred back to the epicurious recipe. Bake at three hundred degrees with switching racks midway through. My tops of the cookies were slightly cracked and some had "feet" and some didn't. Overall this method yielded the most successful of the whole lot.

I had four more trays and attempts with the pink ones being the most disappointing flop. I varied cooking times and temps each time trying to hit nirvana. Nirvana eluded me. The pink ones became very tasty overcooked spongy flat things.

I whipped up some chocolate ganache and smoothed it over some of the edible cookies and sampled one of the more ugly ones. "Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. I didn't expect it to be quite to good. I managed to make three perfectly executed macarons. I present them to you for your viewing pleasure.

Altogether a fun but frustrating day baking for a girl who usually bakes without measuring or recipes.

SCORE:
Macarons: 400
Laura: 3

Macarons Win Round One

2010-07-23T00:39:00.004-04:00

While in San Francisco with my girls, we stopped at a macaron store. The adorable brightly colored and pastel palette cookies filled with fun flavored fillings apealed strongly to my baking asteticks and I said to myself, and outloud actually, "I must learn how to make these".

Recently that urge is coming back. I looked up places in Boston to buy them and while there were a couple of sit down restaurants that served them, the best bet was Aroa fine chocolate in the South End. I walked by and realized they were no longer in business. Sigh. I guess now the only option is in Cambridge. I have yet to go there, but due to my work schedule, I ended up buying six of them in New York at MacarOn Cafe, and although good, at $2.25 a peice, they work out to be quite the expensive cookie.

The six cookies freshly etched in my memory for taste, texture and size, I ran into a whole foods and purchased almond flour, powdered sugar, granular sugar, egg whites and chocolate. At home I immediately started reading the recipes. Most of them were trouble shooting guides warning of the difficulty of making these little treats.

With such simple ingredients how hard could it really be? I wasn't naive enough to think that problems wouldn't arise, but each guide went so spesific in their troubleshooting tecnique I figured I would follow the recipe that seemed idiot proof and then go from there.

For those of you who don't know the macaron that I was attempting to make, it can be seen here:
http://www.davidlebovitz.com/archives/2005/10/french_chocolat.html

For those of you who want to see how my first/third attempt went you can see it here:

These stupid suckers caused me so many problems I want to throw the whole project out the window. I'm not going to, but I really want to. The main problem I am having is with the meringue. As I would add the sugar the meringue would fall flat instead of stiffen up. I attempted three times with three different methods and so far, it's a no. I ended up just mixing everything together, arriving at the consistancy and color of poop, squeezed 'em onto the tray, baked according to a different recipe and pulled out of the oven the above diaster.

Macarons: 1
Laura: 0

Summer. Officially.

2010-06-18T00:29:00.004-04:00

After my near hysterics, fighting and cussing at the soda cart on Monday, it was official. I needed a vacation. I just had to make it through my yearly re-certification for work, which I finished today and then I was free, free, free to head out on a camping trip to Acadia National Park in Maine.

Of course, I had to sit next to the smelly girl on a delayed flight to Boston, and the rental car company wouldn't let me pick up the car early, but aside from those minor set backs I had dinner waiting for me when I arrived at the Fiance's and I got to watch the sun set from Pier's Park and then of course, the Lakers WON! Game seven, against Boston. Yeeeaaahhh! (Ooops, I mean, GO Trailblazers!)

The much needed camping trip marks my official start to summer. Outdoor cooking. A tent. Five minute walk to the beach. A road trip! So much excitement. The Fiance and I do have our differences in camping styles. I think he's a little hesitant to go camping with me. I say, "air mattress!" He said, "Really?" I say, "Flat Iron!" He said, "Your kidding?" I say, "Frosted mini wheats!" He said, "Yuck." We have managed to strike some compromises: air mattress if we can find one at a reasonable price, yes on the flat iron, and I can bring the frosted mini wheats if he can have cheerios. Pretty good.

A Pescie Problem

2010-05-26T11:42:00.006-04:00

On the unofficial life list of things to do, I've recently included "Attempt to like fish". The official list is 40 items long and can be found on www.next12.blogspot.com but that list has to be accomplished by the time I'm 40. The unofficial list is merely stuff I'd really like to do, but I'm not as passionate about making them happen. One for instance, was attend Mardi Gras. And, completely on accident, last year I did. One is to see an alligator or crocodile live, outside a zoo or contained area. Try as I might while in Orlando, heading out on alligator hunts, I still have not accomplished it.

Now there is this fish thing. I hate fish. I hate seafood of every kind. I attended sushi night for years with my girls and although I always would try the new stuff they ordered, in the end, stuck to veggie rolls. If it's not the smell, it's the texture. And you can tell yourself as much as you would like, fresh fish doesn't smell. I know the truth. It does. I remember camping trips as a child, watching my uncle skin fish in the cleaning area and I know, that even still alive, those fish stink.

Occasionally as a kid I could eat a tuna sandwich if topped with enough pickles and onions, but I have grown older and my aversion to mushy foods that aren't a potato have grown stronger as well, so mayonnaise plus fish is even more disgusting, not less. The flavor of fried calamari and small popcorn shrimp is okay, but not great; I feel with the calamari that I'm eating a fried gummy bear and something about that is oddly wrong.

I do, on a side note, like raw oysters. This new discovery was a pleasant one. Once topped with the sauces they taste like a bloody mary, which I love and have the texture of butter. Yum. Ugly? Yes. Tasty. Yes.

So what to do? I gave the pesce loving fiance a recipe I tore from my Bon Appetit. It's fish sticks with a homemade tarter sauce. As I figure, step number one in loving fish is to cover up the flavor with a good homemade sauce. We shall see. I've dedicated the 30th birthday to this pursuit with two exceptions. "No anchovies and no scallops." "No scallops?!" Yuck. I can't. I just can't.

If Zoolander had a Twin

2010-05-04T21:27:00.005-04:00

While in general I like to stay from posts about celebrity gossip, with Bret Michaels in the news so much lately I couldn't help but notice:

+

=

Just saying.

Check.

2010-04-26T15:25:00.003-04:00

Press releases sent out- check.
Wedding invites recieved- check.
Still chasing restaurants- check.
Missing watch for work- check.
Purchased table decorations, flower girl baskets and jewelry for girls- check, check, check.
Injured foot that hurts when walking- check.
Waiting for a response from Living Social- check.
Attend a wedding in Wisconson- check.
Have brunch in Denver with friends- check.
Make, pack and remember lunch for work-check.
It's been a busy week. Check.

Umbrella aren't Penises.

2010-04-17T21:14:00.005-04:00

There are a bajillion people in Boston today because of the Boston Marathon. Now, I can't personally think of anything worse then running a marathon. Okay, actually there are one or two things maybe, like, how 'bout running a marathon in the rain? Or maybe, watching someone else run a marathon in the rain. But, to each their own.

Even though it is raining here, the restaurants are packed and the trains are full. I was walking past a restaurant on my way home tonight, when a group of semi drunk people piled out onto the sidewalk. One woman opened her umbrella and it easily fit three of the girls underneath. One of the men started teasing her about just how big and amazing her umbrella was, while another woman worked to get her umbrella all set up too.

The second woman, with substantially smaller umbrella finally opened hers up and called to her husband, distracted by the bigger umbrella. "Honey!" He trotted over to her and said, "Your umbrella is kinda puny. Why isn't yours as big as hers?" In a casual tone of voice she said, "Honey. Umbrellas aren't penises."

Now, I know I was laughing. He didn't. I bet he runs marathons in the rain.

Mood Enhancer- Vitamin D or 20 Dollars?

2010-04-16T23:07:00.010-04:00

I found twenty dollars on the top of my jumpseat today. It definitely wasn't there when we started boarding and it was at a high enough level that I can't imagine that it just fell out of some one's pocket. Mid way through boarding it just popped up. I made an announcement immediately telling everyone to check their pockets and purses because I had just found some money. Although I saw everyone check their pockets and purses, no one claimed it.

That wasn't the only thing I got for free today. The captain brought us popcorn and a flight attendant brought us chocolate covered pretzels. Since I was full from my fennel, potato, onion, truffle oil and truffle butter lunch and running late because of a late start on my laundry, I hadn't packed a full days worth of food and these little freebies where certainly better then eating bags of munchie mix with mouse holes in them. (Eeeweh. The other highlight of my day.)

To add to the excitement of the day, the flight attendant I was working with makes invitations and does watercolors, so I told her my budget, looked at her website and struck a deal for personalized wedding invites.

If only the weather would cooperate, this would have been a great day. I started taking my gummy vitamin D supplements to combat the gloomy wet depressing summer I'm expecting, but apparently they haven't kicked in yet. Maybe by day three they'll start working. Now my feet are sopping from walking home in the rain and my bedroom smells like my lunch, I'm full of pretzels and popcorn and my laundry needs to be put away.

The Fortune Cookie's Advice

2010-04-15T13:31:00.006-04:00

Ignoring the well meant advice of the fortune cookie from last night's dinner, and despite his intentions to quit his job, the fiance remains gainfully employed. To further shake up our busy life, I got a text from him yesterday, "I think I'm going to quit my job tomorrow." After discussing this possibility over dinner (and of course using the vague fortune from a P.F. Chang's cookie) I began to look forward to his upcoming hiatus. But alas, it was not to be. His company is accommodating him and he will be staying on.

After all the doing, going, hanging, eating that's been going on this past couple of weeks, I am actually looking forward to hanging around at home, doing my laundry, and cooking. Calories be hanged, I think I'm making some orzo with cream, truffle butter, garlic and asparagus for dinner. I've earned it.

Planning is Everything

2010-04-13T07:00:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was a day of accomplishments. I walked the whole tour, talked to my restaurants, and met with my friend for Starbucks. Aside from being my friend, she is also the wedding photographer. After I made it to the grocery store, packed for today and planned out my entire wedding budget down to things like glue, jewelery, and flowers.

All that organizing and today, already out the window. I forgot my lunch in the fridge and now inadvertently spent 5 dollars on a yogurt.

Justifications

2010-04-11T07:09:00.003-04:00

If I made a list of what I ate today, you all would be horrified. I did actually make a list, but as the only remotely healthy thing on the list was a vegetable sandwhich (my only fruit and veggie of the day), I refuse to show you the full extent of what I ate. Let's just say it included doughnuts, chips and icecream. Yikes. When I announced to the woman I was flying with, "well, I guess I won't be snacking on anything else tonight" she unhelpfully said, "It's after midnight, anything else counts as tomorrows breakfast.

We landed around 5:15 am. I may have had jellybeans for breakfast about 3:30 am.

To Wedding or Not to Wedding?

2010-04-09T08:18:00.003-04:00

That is the question. Yesterday, after a yummy meal with good people at the Cheesecake factory, we were walking around the mall. Jokingly, Brian told the husband of the couple we were with "Well, I didn't want a wedding." I know he is comfortable with what we are planning, but I was frustrated because I don't want a wedding either. Why on earth are we going through all this trouble for something we don't want?

I called Brian from home and said, "Let's start from scratch, in a perfect world, what would you want to do instead of a wedding? Think about it, 'cause we need to talk."

In a perfect world, I wouldn't have a wedding, reception, anything. I would be entirely content returning my dress, getting married at city hall and heading to France, no muss, no fuss.

In a perfect world, Brian would have a city hall wedding and dinner with a few of our closest family and friends.

I hate his idea, he hates mine. What it came down to is the important part for me is the ceremony, and the part for him is an intimate reception. We've decided to compromise with a wedding. Although it's not ideal, we both get what's important and so far it has remained simple and small. A compromise.

Little Bit of everything- Including Seconds.

2010-04-07T23:51:00.003-04:00

Thank you two hours of sleep, I was bone tired this morning. Not too tired of course, to eat a bagel with yogurt butter, but bone tired. My starbucks whole milk vanilla latte perked me up for about three minutes, but the mellow morning crowd was surprisingly dull. No bad jokes, no call buttons, nada.

Sweating home from work, wearing my polyester uniform and acrylic sweater in 87 degree weather, I debated back and forth between food and sleep, food almost always trumps sleep but as luck would have it, the oatmeal with fruit and nuts and snack of exactly 30 jelly beans and exactly 27 cheese its had kept me from feeling too hungry so I crawled onto my couch and settled into a blissful 20 minute nap.

My friend Emma came over for a visit while I straightened my freshly dyed hair. Feeling comfortable from my lunch of spinach and roasted asparagus, I didn't even realize it was almost 5:30. Emma and I trecked to a bakery in East Boston that I wanted to check out for the tour. The owner wasn't in, but the pastries sure looked delicious so we bought a couple and continued on our way to Emma's new amazing home for a spaghetti dinner. Knowing I would be eating a pastry I only took a little tinsy bit of seconds.

Tired we relaxed after dinner and I realized I really needed to just head to bed. I walked through my door and remembered the pasteries still at Emmas. Cleaning my room I came across the bag from Micheal's with all of my feathery goodness so I sat on my floor and created a couple of hairpieces that upon waking in about four hours I may or may not still find so cute. So alas, goodnight, let's see what we think in the morning.

Full Plate, Empty Stomach

2010-04-07T00:35:00.003-04:00

I'm super antsy, I can't sleep and there is waaayyy too much going on in my mind. For the one or two of you who may have missed it, I'm getting married. In September. One week after my new tour business venture ends. And there is a lot to do. Plus, I'm back on my pre-Brooke's wedding diet, which to the casual observe may not mean much, but let's just face the facts, this girl, she doesn't do diets.

In an attempt to calm my mind, possibly organize my thoughts and definitely share some ridiculousness that comes with starting a new business, turning thirty, planning a wedding and minimizing my truck driver eating habits, I've reinstated the daily posting of the Daily Bite.

"What could possibly be so overwhelming at 12:42 AM?" You might ask. Why thanks for asking.

My day began at 3:30 AM this morning. I arrived at work and a (really great) supervisor cheerily sided up to me and chirped, "Check ride today!" I was eating a chicken, cheese, and spinach tortilla as we briefed and due to the earliness of the day and the flurry that is a check ride, didn't get in my milky Starbucks beverage. The captain was rescued me with a cup of average joe, but so early in the morning it only served to make me a little nauseous and only slightly less tired. I ate my mid morning snack of cheese-its, jellybeans and dried apricots at 8:30 AM which held off the hunger pains until about 10.

After an actually really pleasant work day, and after consuming a pack of honey roasted almonds and maybe a pack of cookies, I headed home for my 2 PM lunch. I didn't have a lot of calories left so as I checked email and facebook as I steamed enough broccoli for today and tomorrow and then promptly ate all of it and another pack of almonds.

I organized an email to my bridesmaids, confirmed a restaurant on the tour, called another restaurant to try and sell them on the tour, found a bakery I've never heard of to investigate for the tour, emailed a lingerie shop about a garter that holds a flask (yup, you read that right), packed up for my trip tomorrow while simultaneously placing a really large order of feathers on hold on a website, negotiating a contract for the wedding venue with an event planner who isn't on top of her game, researching bubbles and emailing posts to the fiance with pictures of centerpieces (Topiarys? Feathers?)

Finally I headed to Micheal's Craft Store. I didn't have high hopes because it was in Everett, a place I really haven't ever heard of although it appears to exist about 10 minutes away from Boston. After listening to the crack addicts reconnect on the train, apparently a mutual friend got hit by a taxi outside the liquor store, I reached the shopping center and Target beckoned me in. Grabbing a number of dresses, skirts and blouses, I reached a fevered pitch in my dieting angst when I realized a size 10, a size I fit consistently, was just way too tight. Very little consolation came by the size 12 being a little too big.

I finally found a dress that I really like, but needed to think about how it would work out with the color scheme. I left Target and headed to Micheal's. What an amazing place it turned out to be. Beads, and tulle, and jewelery, and flowers and feathers galore. I was in heaven. I finally left the store when the lights dimmed in a closing warning. Chicken soup and lemonade and a piece of bread from Panera satiated my growling stomach.

In a crafty state of mind I immediately came across a clear plan for the wedding, everything from the dresses, to the groomsmen to the centerpieces fell into place. I raced home and hopped on Target.com only to discover, the dresses that so perfectly fit my vision, are not sold online. Fail.

Heading to bed to be back up at 3:30 AM my mind was spinning. What to do about the dresses? What to do about the restaurants? What to do about ordering passes for the flights to Brooke's reception in Wisconsin? What to do about how tired I am going to be tomorrow? I tried to calm my mind by walking through my tour and working out the historical facts so they wouldn't bore anyone, but unfortunately I bored myself. My brain just kept on going. Hopping out of bed I wrote this, throwing it all out there to the wind, or Internet to be specific, hoping to now get some rest.

Black Pudding? No Thanks.

2010-03-15T11:12:00.004-04:00

I found this list on another blog. I'm stealing it, and because I know my friends are eaters, I'm curious what you have tried or wouldn't try. I'm italicing the things I don't prefer to try and bolding those I have. You can copy and paste the list from the bottom of the blog.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison -Eh.
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile -Thank New Orleans.
6. Black pudding -Gag.
7. Cheese fondue -Melting pot...
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari -Rubber tires.
12. Pho -Worth a trip to Vietnam.
13. PB&J sandwich -Not my favorite.
14. Aloo gobi -In english?
15. Hot dog from a street cart -Ah, New York!
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle -Had white truffle...
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes -5 dollar blackberry wine. My favorite.
19. Steamed pork buns -Taiwan. For breakfast. Yum.
20. Pistachio ice cream -Server at a fake italian restaurant. Yes, I've tried it.
21. Heirloom tomatoes -Baby ones are the best.
22. Fresh wild berries -Summers at Grandma's.
23. Foie gras -Don't understand it.
24. Rice and beans -Now you're talking.
25. Brawn, or head cheese -Wrinkling my nose in distaste.
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters -It's my new thing.
29. Baklava -Not worth the calories.
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas -Keeps me awake on a redeye.
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl -Now chili in a bread bowl...!
33. Salted lassi -I had the sweet.
34. Sauerkraut -Really?
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea -Oh London how do I miss the? Let me count the ways, 1. Clotted cream.
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O -Always classy at a bridal shower.
39. Gumbo -Disneyland, in Adventureland.
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat -What happens when your friend marries a Jamaican guy.
42. Whole insects -Never. Ever. Never.
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk -When I was a kid I was allergic to milk so my mom gave me this. When I was a teen, I tried it again and spit it out on the kitchen floor. I can't even smell Goat's cheese without my stomach turning.
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more -Yes please.
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala -Second best meal I had in India.
48. Eel -Meh. I'll take the cucumber roll.
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut -Sweet days of college.
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear -I think I had a prickly pear martini once...
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal -Why do I love these?
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini -Wrong. Just wrong.
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst -It's the worst!
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs -They hop when they're fried.
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake -Did I just wait in a 45 minute line for beignets yesterday? Yes I did.
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho -I also don't get cold soup. Yuck.
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill -Really?
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie -About once a year I get a hankering, then I think "What was that about?"
78. Snail -Just read about a cult that drinks slug mucus and now the members have lumps in the stomach.
79. Lapsang souchong -Can't say I know what this is.
80. Bellini (-peach!)
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict -Just can't.
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. -Anyone buying?
85. Kobe beef -Good but overrated.
86. Hare -Grandma tricked me.
87. Goulash -Yum Yum Budapest.
88. Flowers -Also at a bridal shower.
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam -Hawaii favorite.
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano -Tasty good.
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

-XO, Now I'm hungry. Maybe it's time for some Rose Harissa?

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Shopping Fast

2010-02-17T17:13:00.004-05:00

Although many of you have probably heard me say, "Thank goodness for Jesus, I don't have to give anything up for Lent." I decided, like last year, to participate in Lent anyway. I wasn't really sure what I should give up, and considering I've already put myself on a loose calorie counting diet and exercise regime, (In and Out twice in one day, oddly didn't get recorded in my little smart phone app.) I didn't want to mess around with food.

I decided it would be wise to pray for an idea. After all, Lent is a spiritual discipline of sorts, and before I could even finish my prayer "Shopping" popped into my head. "I don't think so God." Was my willing and obedient answer. Ha.

So after a little considering, I concur with God that a little fast on shopping would probably be a very good thing. I'm not 100 percent sure of my ability to carry out my decision, for I once wrote a cognitive dissonance paper on how to justify the need for seven jeans, but it will be a worthwhile experiment.

Walking Hazards: LOVE

2010-02-14T14:49:00.004-05:00

Valentine's Day has been in the air for the past few days. Friday I went for a 7.77 mile walk, crossing all over the city of Boston. I paused on a corner, to listen to a message and call a friend, when a man and his friend walked up to me. The first guy asked me for a dollar. I motioned to my lack of purse and said, sorry, I don't have any money with me. His friend continued walking, but he, he stopped and said, "Well, hey, do you live around here?" "Sort of, near here." "Oh, would you like to maybe hang out some time? Do something?" I had to laugh. "Who is paying for this "hanging out"? You did just ask me for a dollar. 'Sides, I have a boyfriend who probably wouldn't appreciate me hanging out with you." "Awe man. If you have a boyfriend, why are you by yourself right now?"

Keep in mind, this is a mid-Friday afternoon, most normal employed people are working. I have a strange job schedule, so I'm constantly saying "Oh, the boyfriend has a 'real job'." I didn't even second think telling my new friend on the street, "No, my boyfriend has a REAL job." He took it kind of hard, but in a last ditch effort said "Well, do you like to get high? Are you high now? We could get high together." I gave trying to make my phone call and said "Have a nice day!" And I, yes, I Laura, JOGGED away.

Saturday I was walking back from Whole Foods, my legs sore from their strenuous walk the day before, just trudging along minding my own business. A kid, still in the throws of puberty leaned his head out of the backseat window of a car. "Hey! Hey!" He started yelling at me. I glanced up. "Can I have your number?!"

I shook my head and took my groceries home to prep my yummy Valentine's Day menu for the boyfriend. (Cornish game hens, four cheese mac, and roasted asparagus. Yep I'm amazing like that.)

What Would Paul Revere Do?

2010-01-09T17:39:00.003-05:00

I walk the freedom trail up North Street past the Paul Revere house and on to Hanover everyday. I'm sure when I first marched by the house I had a warm "Wow! How cool! Paul Revere walked on this path!" moment, but after a month of pulling my luggage across uneven icy bricks, I'm pretty much over it.

What does still get me is the tourists standing near the house reaching out gingerly to touch it, as if the museum alarm is going to start beeping.

Today as I walked near the house, Matty, a kid with a Type A father was answering history questions. "Who hung the lantern, Matty?" "How many did he hang?" "Oh, oh, I've got this one! It was, uh, it was, um, I know this!" "You know this Matty, you know this!" "Uh..."

Closer, a girl with a camera was directing her boyfriend, "Okay, stand there, act like Paul Revere." Neither the boyfriend or I was exactly sure what acting like Paul Revere entailed, but I bet Matty could tell us. "Uh..."

Kim Cooks a Turkey

2009-11-26T15:31:00.003-05:00

My friend Kim and I have vastly opposite schedules and rarely get to meet up. Wednesday was like any other day. We both had four hundred things to do, for Kim that included cooking a pre-Thanksgiving dinner to celebrate with her boyfriend, but we decided that I would come over after dinner for some spiked cider and custard and pumpkin pie.

"I'll should be home and cooking by 4:00, so dinner will be at 6:00, why don't you come over around 7:00, 7:30." Kim declared. Okay, I said, thinking to myself "Two hours for a turkey?"

I had to laugh when around 6:30 I got a text saying "Dinner is still cooking, come a little later." I arrived at the mall near Kim's house at the new appointed time and meandered around shopping because, "THE STUPID BIRD IS STILL COOKING!"

At 9:00 I arrived door side and walked into the hottest kitchen in the world. "The turkey has these little tab things that are supposed to pop when the turkey is done, but they won't pop!!!!! If it wasn't so hot in here I would think the oven wasn't working."

Her pumpkin pie finished cooking around 9:30, while I ate left over potatoes, sweet and mashed (the first course). As she pulled the pie out of the oven, the tabs, well, one tab, popped from the turkey. Finally done. Pulling it out of the oven was an adventure in and of itself because her little downtown Boston apartment has no counter space. Once it was out of the oven, she turned it over to realize that she stuffed the butt of the turkey instead of the top. Pulling out the stuffing she found the neck of the turkey still chillen' in the area where the stuffing should have been. "Well, it did say, 'breast side up'. I wasn't sure what side that was, so I tried to picture it covered in feathers and walking around. I think this is right? But it's not a pretty color. My mom's turkey's come out of the oven all golden and crispy and pretty."

"1800-Butterball" I said jokingly. "Excuse me, ma'am, which side is the breast of the turkey, because I'm pretty sure that I just stuffed the butt." When I left, the custard pie was still uncooked in the fridge.

Happy Thanksgiving Kids!!!

United by Bang Troubles.

2009-11-09T15:56:00.003-05:00

Girls, I know you can relate.

I was bored. So I cut bangs. And now I hate them!!!! I thought they might add some pizazz to my growing out hairstyle, and instead they drag my face down and make me look old and tired. What's that about? Awful.

Now I have my scissors out and every time I go into my bathroom I cut a little more. Not necessarily shorter, but shaping them differently. "Never mind, I'll part them on the other side." Yuck. "Okay, how about no part, and I'll wear them straight down." Yuck. It's a process.

I think I finally chipped away at them long enough to make them cute. I even woke up this morning, looked in the mirror and bemoaned the curling clump I missed while flat ironing before I bemoaned my bangs. Progress.

I arrived in swampy humid Austin. Waited forever for the van. Made it to the hotel. Still liked the bangs. Sat in front of an air conditioner to cool off and now, aforementioned bangs are a hot frizzy mess. ARRH.

Peace Dude

2009-11-03T00:18:00.004-05:00

Bike riding in California is a whole different ball game compared to East Boston. For one thing, Long Beach has a whole lot fewer hills, which my out of shape legs appreciate. In E. Boston I sweat or freeze as I cruise across old dirty neighborhoods with poorly directed traffic patterns and no shade. As I rode around, even the industrial area of Long Beach was landscaped with my much missed palm trees and the fences were lined with honeysuckle bushes that scented the perfect 70 degree air.

As I paused waiting to turn at the stop light a boy on his bike cruised by on his green light, turned and flashed me a peace sign. I think I could live seven life times before that would ever happen in Boston.

One year.

2009-10-01T18:03:00.005-04:00

I've been in Boston for exactly one year now, and it's amazing how many things have happened in my life. I have a lovely wonderful fantastic great amazing boyfriend who lives all of 10 minutes from me, I live by myself in a really cute apartment, I own a little yellow bike that gets hit on every time I'm waiting at a stop light, and I've taken a serious turn in managing my finances. My foot that was injured when I moved my couch into my apartment has finally found a chiropractor who thinks that he can fix it, and with one visit I have noticed a difference. (No thanks to the podiatrist who apparently knows nothing.)

In the past year I have been to Peru, Haiti, England, British Virgin Islands, Dominican Republic, India and Greece. I have good friends, some new and some old, and I have discovered a skill set that I hadn't yet realized. Sewing. My nephew visited this summer and I finally received his approval as an excellent aunty. I found a church that I like, and a group that I love. I have been challenged physically, mentally, and spiritually and have been happy with the outcomes. I put together a table and set of chairs without directions, I hiked for six hours in the Andies and I'm in a good place with God.

I am completely depressed with the weather. But that is a whole different subject.

A year in Boston has done far exceeded my expectations. I am blessed.

Lucky Girl Drives a Stick Shift.

2009-09-26T04:28:00.004-04:00

Of all the crazy things I have done in a foreign country, driving has not been one of those things. In countries like England or Ireland, where I have spent more time, the driving has been on the opposite side of the road and I have flat refused. My limit on crazy appears to be jumping out of airplanes or riding a motercycle with the boyfriend on the back in the Dominican Republic. It does not include driving around a turnpike lost on the wrong side of the road.

In Santorini we are staying on the beach in a town called Perissa. It's a lovely relaxing beachy little area. With nothing to do. And the girls and I were feeling restless. Alright. Time to rent the car and drive to Oia. We rented a little Hyundai with no pretense of insurance or deposits and off we went. Christina drove first, relearning how to drive a stick shift. Tara took over once we reached a city and drove around a very winding road.

At dinner in Oia I said, "I get to drive home right?" Tara begged to bogart the driving home on the premise that she would feel sick on the windy road. I was dissapointed but not feeling well myself, so I hopped in the back. About a kilometer from the hotel Tara pulled over and let me drive (I know, right), so finally I could say I drove in a foreign country.

This morning I woke up first, and therefore was required to return the car. I had to put gas in it, so I excitedly left for the open road. I passed a grocery store and decided immediately I was going inside. It was a great store with a wall of yogurt and a wall of little toasty breads and a wall of chips. I was in heaven. Driving and a grocery store? I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

Quotes

2009-09-25T16:42:00.003-04:00

Santorini, Greece
Sept 24, 2009

Quotes:

"Oh my Gosh, I'm Kate Gosselin!"
"I'm a supermodel, shove a freaken' glutton free bagel down my throat!"

Analysis:

Girls night in Santorini is going well. Encouraged by sangria, greek food (houmous for Tara) and a molten lava cake, the gossip session covered a range of topics, from boys and our treatment of a particular boyfriend, "Sometimes I'm so mean when I'm stressed, it's like,'Oh my gosh, I'm Kate Gosselin!" to the dietary constrains and the state of a particular member of the group's current flu induced weightloss. "I mean, look at me! I'm a supermodel, shove a freaken' glutton free bagel down my throat!"

Hours later our waiter informed us "just because I likes to hear women talking, talking there is free internets in the back room."

We decided girls night was a success and headed to bed.

Athens is Great!

2009-09-24T17:21:00.003-04:00

Dear Diary,
Athens is great! That is, if you enjoy boring buildings smacked in between old ruins. And, speaking of smack... The massive drug deal going on in the middle of the afternoon at the corner of our street ensured I would witness one of the most jarring and disturbing sights I have ever seen outside the movie theater. Crouched near the wall a man helped another inject himself with drugs. As I turned to walk past him the two men on the other side were doing the same.

We were concerned about returning late at night, but at 10 PM when we made it back from the absolutely delicious dinner, which yes, included olives, olive oil, feta and pita, the streets were empty and safer seeming then earlier in the afternoon. The only signs of earlier activity that remained were the needle wrappers littered everywhere across the ground.

And while we're on the subject of smack... The man on the ferry this morning snoring and lounging across three seats was "rudely" awaken by a ferry employee. The man, obviously drunk, reached out to smack the employee away and in doing so dropped part of his sesame covered pretzely pastry thing on the ground. As the employee walked away drunk guy settled back in for his nap.

Again the ferry employee came to wake him up. Again drunk guy reached out to smack the employee. This time the employee succeeded in getting him up and awake. The drunk guy spotted his pastry laying on the ground, grabbed it and wandered off munching on it.

Dear Diary, Greece is amazing.

Laura Rides the T

2009-09-15T11:31:00.003-04:00

Although Zales stores are plentiful in New York, the city of Boston and most of the surrounding areas are sadly Zales free. I made the trek out to the Braintree Mall to drop off my ring and finally had a day off to pick it up. On the T, Boston's public transportation, I turned on my ipod to practice some french. I wanted off at State street so I could transfer at Downtown Crossing. I ended up at Government Center, only looking up because so many people were getting off the train. "Crap." I walked over to the Park Street T. It crossed back through Downtown Crossing putting me on the right track. Eventually I made it to the mall after waiting for the bus forever. The whole adventure getting there took all of two hours.

Coming home with my sparkly ring, I missed the bus by minutes. Half an hour later another bus showed up. Crossing from the Red line I decided to switch at Downtown Crossing and again at State. I was playing a rather intense game of solitaire when I realized I was at Haymarket. One stop past where I wanted to be. I took the train two stops back, again playing my solitaire game and realized I was at Downtown crossing again heading toward park. I jumped off the train and walked over to the Blue line's State street exit, not trusting myself to get off again at State if I stayed on the T.

My brother called me as I was getting on the T. We stopped at Aquarium and I, still on the phone went to jump off. "Crap, wrong stop." I muttered. "What?" My brother asked. Too annoyed I just remuttered a response. "Nothing. I'm just having a day."

God's Judgement and a Little Jet Lag.

2009-08-25T11:44:00.006-04:00

What with Michelle Obama having the gall to wear shorts to the Grand Canyon and John Piper blaming tornadoes in the mid-west on the gays, blog readers have had enough to read about without me adding to the fray. This has freed me up to work a bunch of red eyes and then yesterday to head to LA at five in the morning. My body is not entirely sure which way is up or down, east or west, morning, noon or night.

I met up with my friend Rachel last night and while waiting for her to get out of work I decided to take a nap. I lay down and immediately fell asleep. I woke up drooling on my own hand from one of those sleeps were two hours felt like five minutes and my face was smushed up into a puffy red ball. Needless to say, it was delightful.

I head home today, and thanks to the wonder that is jet lag I woke up at a cool eight AM, really 11 AM east coast, ready to face the day. I'm off for the rest of the week and if you for one second think I'm going to be taking it easy, you are wrong. Thursday I head to Chicago for a long weekend with Christina and our Craigslist boys. That is, the boyfriend and I will be heading to Chicago on standby, if God doesn't send a tornado to the Cape judging the first lady for her continued usage of shorts.

Food and Friends

2009-08-16T01:17:00.004-04:00

Although I am on an incredibly strict budget that has cut out everything but necessities and travel, I couldn't resist calling my old roommate Joe for dinner in Orlando. He brought along a mutual friend of ours, Evie, and we headed to a Mexican restaurant.

AMAZING! The food was delicious, particularly noted because Boston lacks my version of Mexican food and Orlando apparently doesn't. My tacos were the definition of perfection.

I digress on the subject of food (typical) and actually only wanted to say that the company I was in made every penny of the $20 dollars worth it. It is so good to have friends that, even after a months long hiatus, we can talk like we saw each other yesterday.

Now I am full and happy and not a bit sleepy. Shoot.

Children's Museum

2009-08-14T18:06:00.000-04:00

On a list of some of the more ironic things that have happened to me, getting eyeballed by a lesbian in a children's museum is on the top of the middle.

This past week my nephew has been visiting. I planned all sorts of activities for him and in retrospect probably could have saved all my money by sticking him in one of the many fountains Boston has and leaving him there all day. Although he did spend plenty of time in fountains, we visited the Imax, Aquarium, beach and finally, the Boston Children's Museum.

On a list of most boring days ever, the visit to the children's museum definately beats working or sitting at the doctors office, but falls very short of say, a roller coaster or a hot air balloon ride or really even of reading a good book.

I followed my nephew around "Aiden wait your turn." "Aiden, there's a line." "Aiden, don't you dare." "Aiden! Don't push." He had a blast racing golf balls down tracks, dancing, throwing a basketball around and lifting a car up and down on a pulley.

While we were spending hours in the ball room (literally, hours), I noticed this girl kept looking at me. I had been ignoring all the parents, except the one's I was apologizing to because Aiden had excitedly pushed their children out of the way to throw his ball down the track first, but this girl kept trying to catch my eye. After the fourth or so time of awkward eye contact, I thought, "Is she hitting on me?" I scanned her outfit. Ugly shoes. Well that's typical of Boston. A skirt. Suprising. A tee shirt. Hmmm. OH! Short hair. Almost shaved short. A SIGN!

Once I had my theory I curiously looked at her one more time. She looked over at me and smiled. And I knew. I had just been checked out by a lezzie at a children's museum.

Chicken and the Egg

2009-08-06T15:53:00.003-04:00

I completely forgot to mention this, but in a crowning cooking triumph, my spatula was covered in chocolate chips but my egg was about to over cook. In one swift motion I picked up the pan, gave it a shake and flipped my egg over. I've tried many a time to do this before, but I've either plopped it onto the stove or chickened out (chicken, ha ha) before I could make a mess. A TRIUMPH!

Loss of Things

2009-08-05T02:01:00.006-04:00

For about a week or two my closet has been smelling a little weird. I have a lot of wool sweaters and it's been really warm, so I figured it was just musty sweater smell; since today was laundry day I thought I would check things out and make sure there wasn't any real issues with my closet (we did have a broken water heater recently) and in the mean time I could get my sweaters ready for cold weather wear.

Imagine my dismay when upon opening my closet I saw the wicker basket that holds everything from socks, underwear, and scarves to nylons, hats and gloves was growing mold. Lots of mold. All around the bottom and about two inches up on one side was green and white with fluffy mold.

I hurriedly removed the top dry layers from the basket. Most of my underwear, nylons and tights where fine. I dug to the side where I keep my old ballet shoes and point shoes. I came up with a soggy pair of spanks, but no shoes. I sighed in preemptive relief thinking they were in the middle, more dry area of the basket.

Not so much. I was devastated when I saw the blue cotton bag mushed up against the wettest side of the basket. I knew from the smell the shoes were going to be ruined. The black mold covered the whole of the point shoes and green mossy substance grew from the back of one of the shanks. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!" I cried in horror. Really. It's was pretty dramatic. I peeled my regular ballet shoes apart, not as moldy as the point shoes, but also ruined.

Disheartened I went back to the few remaining hats in the basket. My sister Zandra, who died when I was six, had a yellow jaunty beret that I inherited and loved. I tried it on periodically and usually took it off not having enough sass to pull it off comfortably. It was sandwiched between the hat that I loved from Kmart (That seven dollar hat has vetted me many a complement, including my favorite from an oil tycoon and his snooty Moroccan millionaire friend.), and a wool ear muff, head wrap that my friend made for me after we saw one at a craft fair. All three items, and the rest of my hats, but the three important ones, where unsalvagible. Zandra's hat, already at least 25 years old, was too fragile for the scrubbing and detergent that I attempted to use on it.

Reminding myself that it wasn't as if my house had just burnt down or I lost everything I possessed, I threw everything away, cleaned up and went to work. My supervisor greeted me excitedly when I walked in the crew room. She asked how I was and at my less then enthusiastic response gave me a sympathetic mom look. I started crying as I told her, "My ballet shoes and my sisters hat were ruined!" In retrospect, I realized I sounded like an idiot, but in the moment I only felt the huge loss of my sister's possession and was obviously unclear at articulating what I felt.

When my landlord asked my how he could compensate me I told him, "The things that I lost are irreplaceable. I didn't loose anything that had a tangible value except a couple pairs of white socks that I just didn't want to bother with. Everything else was sentimental. I don't need to be compensated." He "Rubbished." me, but the reality is when I go home I will be sorting through the one last pile of questionable objects. In that pile is a old scarf from my grandmother and a really great pair of funky gloves from my aunt. Across the room, mocking this questionable pile sits a replaceable one dollar scarf from the gap and a pair of gloves from Delia's sale catalogue that came with a whole in them.

I wish I wasn't crying over worldly possessions, but this loss of things has hurt me.

Bit the Dust. AKA: Budgets.

2009-08-03T02:09:00.006-04:00

This is what happens when I am on a very strict budget. Instead of say, turning down a great chance to hang out with a friend on a nice Sunday, I decided that it would be great fun to go to SaWa, an art, antique, crafty affair and spend no more then $10 dollars.

I walked around for about an hour amusing myself by pretending I could make most of the stuff there for a fraction of the price and, of course, it would turn out even cooler. Soap? That's so easy to make. Candles? Any fool can make a candle. Screen printed scarfs? I should take a screen printing class. How hard could it be? Basically I'm one of those fake creative types that steal other peoples ideas and think that I should capitalize on them, only to later figure out that I'm too lazy to even Google how to make a soy candle that smells like (and I'm not kidding) beer.

The one purchase that I did make is sourdough bread. Try, the few times that I have, bread is not one of my top baking skills. As I was putting my wallet back into my purse the bread slipped out of the bag and landed on the dirty nasty asphalt. I could have cried. My friend cheerfully said, "Uh-oh! Guess you need to get another one." My wallet cringed at the thought of throwing away three dollars, but my mouth cringed even more at the thought of dusting it off and eating it.

I thought for a moment. I decided to take it home and cut off the outer crust leaving only the soft chewy wonderful middle part. My friend laughed at me, but I couldn't think of a better solution. I loved the middle part and more ate the crust out of obligation. Plus, I love bread and tend to eat a lot, so automatically I was saving calories. And, I saved my monies, by not having to buy another loaf.

My budget actually gave me the chance to do something I would never be able to afford to do under normal circumstances; buy a loaf of bread and only eat the middle.

Peek-A-Boo

2009-07-30T23:30:00.004-04:00

I was the third wheel on a doggy play date the other day. I know that sounds a bit strange and, trust me, it was. But the guy who owned one of the dogs also owns a beautiful apartment with almost 360 views of Boston and amazing sunset watching windows, and so we've heard, if he invites, you say, "Yes."

So there I was in his house. He offered me some lemonade, then left the lemonade out on the counter while he socialized with the other dog's owners and my boyfriend. I sat there staring at it. Twitching to put it back. If there are two things one doesn't need to know about me, one is that I hate food just sitting on the counter and two, I love to look inside other people's fridges. It sounds a bit strange, and, trust me, I know it, to have an intense desire to see what lurks behind those magnetic doors, but I can't help it. I love to peek.

As the sun set, we gathered up our things to leave. I placed the empty cups in the sink and one of the dogs refused to be caught. With the commotion of chasing the dogs distracting the fridge's owner, I grabbed the lemonade and triumphantly placed it back into it's spot on the fridge's door. I glanced over the organized, yet surprisingly crowded contents and shut the door satisfied. I quickly glanced at the freezer door but refrained and headed to the stairs to leave.

Domestic Heroine

2009-07-21T20:14:00.003-04:00

With the limited sewing skills that remained from her senior project in high school, the Martha Stewart like domestic heroine, fought back her disappointment of yet another rainy day, and pulled out her sewing machine.

Faced with the prospect of a incredibly see through skirt, she knew she must pull out all the stops and make a skirt with lining. Daunted, but not done in, she chopped away at the creamy material, pausing to consider how everything would be connected.

After changing the needle on the sewing machine, and for the first time in years, threading a bobbin, she was ready to begin. How does it turn on? What stitch did she want? Why were the pins in backwards? Are zippers supposed to be so bumpy? After just a few missteps, she actually created a wearable object.

The heavens opened and sunshine poured down upon her. Ha ha. Who are we kidding? This is Boston people. The sun doesn't shine. But our domestic, Martha Stewart like heroine does have a lovely new skirt.

And to celebrate she made brownies and raviolis and garlic bread. To quote her mother, "Let's hope the skirt still fits."

Birthday Dilema

2009-07-19T13:57:00.004-04:00

I've been invited to participate in my friend's birthday. Originally the plans were to rent a car and explore the Northeast and maybe do a little jaunt to Cape Cod or Provincetown. I was super excited about this prospect and did a little research, figured out a map and some plans and the cost and called him back. "Never mind, we're going to California."

REALLY?

Under normal circumstances that prospect would be amazing. This month, not so much. I have been working back and forth to California all month long and Thursday I flew out to LAX on my days off and went to a Dodgers game with my dad (they lost), then Friday flew back, only to, on Saturday, work right back out to California. I get back Monday night and now Tuesday, I'm supposed to fly right back to California for the birthday. I want to stab myself.

BUT...

Am I a horrible friend if I don't go? It's California. Of course I'm going to have a good time if I'm there. Plus, it's friends I don't get to see very often. I just can't decide what to do.

HELP!

Saturday.

2009-07-14T06:54:00.003-04:00

I met up with my friend Nate on Sunday and while talking about my boyfriend he asked me if it was too soon to know if we were going to get married. I said, "No, and we plan to, not soon, but it will probably, definitely happen." He asked me how I knew, and I didn't have an answer. "I just do." Which sounds cliche and lame. He told me he'd been in relationships where he knew the opposite. Which made me laugh. Well, Nathan, if I had thought to Saturday I would have been able to tell you exactly why.

Saturday.
I flew in from a redeye and promptly slept until noon. The boyfriend, knowing that I wanted to eat at Scups in the Harbor (Yum) waited patiently for me to wake up and then, starving, we went there. I only had five dollars on me, so he paid for the other half of my food.

After eating he came over and put my new bike together while I cheered him on and looked for a part they didn't send me. After the bike was complete he was chillaxing in my chair and I leaned over and kissed him. "Okay, we could either go find a bike bell, basket, pump, and helmet (and maybe missing piece) at REI or we could snuggle up on the couch. He looked at me sighed and made the right choice. "I know your excited about your bike, let's go to REI."

At REI he talked me out of buying a $70 dollar jacket (which I still want and still might go buy) and that is quite a feat in and of itself. He was knowledgeable and helpful and picked out a fun purple bike bell for me and knew where to go for help. Love it.

He walked back to my house to get his tool box and waited for me to get ready for work. At the airport shuttle stop I parted ways with him and as I walked off I heard him say, "Hey, do you want to stand on my tool box?" I turned around and a little kid was struggling to reach the fountain. He offered the tool box to them as a step and I turned back around to leave for work with a huge smile on my face.

Comfort Cooking

2009-07-07T16:33:00.005-04:00

It's pouring rain in the middle of summer here in Boston. In fact, summer? Summer? What summer? So I'm fighting back by making buttermilk vanilla bean rice pudding, which is of dubious flavor. While I wait for it to cook I made a little heirloom tomato sauce with garlic, onions, olive oil, and the cream cheese torta from Trader Joes. It's pretty much amazing.

I have all sorts of new kitchen tools thanks in part to my grandmother, who is moving into a nursing home and doesn't need her pizza cutter or George Foreman Grill. Also I just received some great bowls from Anthropology from my mom, veggie slicers from my sister and a Williams and Sonoma Gift card from the boyfriend. Between all that and the rain, is it any wonder I'm in the kitchen whipping up deliciousness.

Now excuse me, I need a second helping of pasta.

Chicago, Land that I Love Attempting to Get to.

2009-07-01T23:28:00.007-04:00

I have a Chicago trip tomorrow. I'm pretty sure our schedulers are going to try to take it from me. The last time I had a Chicago trip was in the beginning of January. They were successful in that attempt and have not been forgiven, so barring a full on cancellation, I refuse to co-operate in their "Junior Assignment" "Operational Integrity" "Bull Crap to make you feel guilty and miserable" schemes.

My first ever Chicago layover was interrupted in the middle of the night by a phone call to my room phone informing me I would be operating an early flight then my crew. The second layover a mistake. Our flight got canceled leaving Chicago and we snuck downtown and stole the Boston base crew's rooms for the night and then called Crew Services to inform them of what was going on. After being out all night with my crew, who were all assigned to a much later flight, I was again woken by them in the middle of the night and informed that I would be taking a early flight.

After the January fiasco, I am of course hesitant to take pick up any Chicago trips, but the layover is simply the best in our company. It's a good location, great hotel, and hypothetically long layover. Although the Chicago people tend to be difficult (surprising for mid-westers) it's worth it in the end, provided it actually happens. You will know tomorrow. A bitter diatribe on my job perhaps, if something goes sour. And in the mean time, I plan to shut off my phone, unplug my room phone and double lock my hotel room door, to avoid the seemingly inevitable interruption from crew services.

Peace out kids, and wish me luck.

Figs

2009-06-30T23:44:00.003-04:00

I am that girl, the one who rips out recipes from magazines, I have a thick stack of them at home, and after begging out of hanging out with the boyfriend last night, I stayed in and spent the evening looking through them. Two of the recipes that always stand out involve figs and search as I have, I have yet to find a fig in East Boston or at any farmer's market.

I started out on my quest to find this elusive fruit today by going to Whole foods. Although I generally avoid Whole foods because of the exorbitant prices, I had to find the figs. And I did find them right next to the organic strawberries and local grown blueberries.

I brought them home and excitedly consulted my recipes, I had neither bacon or ricotta cheese, so I just tossed some Brie inside and sprinkled some brown sugar. After a few minutes in the oven I popped one in my mouth and disliked every mushy squishy bite. Disappointed, I took them to a bbq. I figured maybe a grill would bring out their flavor. But no, I didn't much like those either.

So now figs you have one chance left. Tomorrow I will be stuffing them with ricotta, honey and almonds. I expect great things but honestly I have so many recipes I don't know why I'm holding on to one whose main ingredient I clearly hate.

All Inclusive

2009-06-20T17:17:00.001-04:00

So I’ve been a little blogged down lately, (ha, ha) sorry about that, I’ve been collecting stories on crazy vacations, and haven’t had time to type them up. So I’m skipping ahead a little, I’ll tell you of my naked massage some other time. Right now it’s time for the story of that one time I drove a motor scooter in Puerto Plata.

My mother used to start every car ride with a pray, “Heavenly father watch over and protect us as I drive, keep us safe, Amen.” I choose to do the same.

It started out like any other all-inclusive vacation at a five star resort. But neither the boyfriend nor I are very good at lazing around for hours at a swimming pool, so pretty quickly the vacation progressed to renting a motorcycle to drive around for the day. As the boyfriend has never actually driven one, he foolishly felt comfortable hopping on the back of one driven by me. That’s when the praying started.

Driving around into Puerto Plata wasn’t too bad, once I got used to the weight of the bike and braking. The one incident, hitting an open man hole, could have been a lot worse then it was. We expected to fly off, break the bike in two, or at least have a flat tire… but nothing. I attribute it to the prayer. The boyfriend was remarkably calm, saying only he didn’t want to make me jump and wreck the bike.

We made it, more or less, safely to what can only be compared to the Dominican Republic’s version of California’s Pacific Coast Highway. We parked the bike sat in the shade watching the city around us. A man named Tony found us there and in a little twist convinced us that he worked at our hotel. We were both confused, but went along with it. Tony decided to show us the way to the market. That’s when we realized Tony probably didn’t work for the resort at all, but probably was a hustler for this market place.

We didn’t have too much a choice anyway, with a bit of a language barrier, so we followed him. There were so many twists and turns I began to wonder where exactly it was that we were being lead and it brought to mind the time Christina and I were dropped off at a gas station in Peru and after being picked up by a random person, we were driven helter skelter all over Urabamba until we finally turned onto a deserted road bordered by a rock wall with a sign in Spanish that included the word “Die.” We were pretty sure then too, that we were about to get murdered, when all of a sudden a gate opened up and wa-la, one of the best hotels we have ever stayed at.

Well, the market in Puerto Plata was not the best I have ever been too. We were starting to feel a little bad that we had even come, when the boyfriend found a bag of coffee and I found a gift for each of my parents. After giving the guy outside watching our bikes our last dollar, we didn’t have any money left for our “guide.” And he definitely expected some money. He ended up coming back to our hotel with us, a considerable distance, so we could give him some cash. He told us that he was having an operation the next day, which we didn’t believe, then he was on his way.

The next day we had a few hours to drive around so we headed away from the town. The island was green and lush and reminded me of Hawaii. It was a peaceful drive and as we pulled over to turn around guess who showed up. Tony? Yes. Apparently his operation must have been much later in the day because he offered to take us out to a waterfall we had wanted to see. “Sorry Tony, we don’t have anymore money.” We joked with him. He wished us well and we left to go back to our all-inclusive ocean view, five star hotel.

Year of the India

2009-06-12T18:55:00.003-04:00

Our trip to India (mine and my mums) involved long hours on a tour bus. The first two days everyone sat, rather silently, staring at the sights outside the window. In Delhi it was

"Look monkeys!"
"What is that mob for? (Free sweet lime juice)
or
"Oh my gosh, this traffic is crazy."

We'd walked through old Delhi looking at the narrow streets and "oohing" over the blue colors and rich but dilapidated designs.

We reached Agra, a dirty uninteresting city, where a wild boar was taking a squat in the middle of the street as we entered, and at sunrise, we went to see the Taj Mahal. Standing at the Princess Di bench, famous for a picture of her making a sad lonely face, alone at the most romantic building in the world, one of the girls on the tour piped up, "Oh, look at me, Princess Diana, all alone. Oh, look at me, Princess Diana, all anorexic and skinny."

On the ride from Agra to Jaipur, about five hours on the bus, the tour guide, Vishal, tired of giving history lessons turned to giving Bollywood dancing lessons. This turned to singing Indian songs with another man on the bus, which then branched out to songs in Spanish, the national Thai anthem, a Chinese fighting song, the nation anthem of Canada and finally a rousing song of "God Bless America". We couldn't, however, convince the English woman to sing "God Save the Queen".

I thought about my brother, and CJ, a work friend, and how much they would be hating the whole experience. It was really so quintessential and typical and tour-y, that I had to document it with a video to treasure as a once and a life time experience. And wouldn't you know, the bus became a group of chatty Cathy's and didn't stop until we reached Jaipur. Well, there was this one pause, when we saw the camels.

"Look." (Breathlessly)
"I know."
"So cool."

We pulled over and took pictures piling out of the bus, happy to stretch our legs, but even happier getting back on the bus, thankful to be out of the intense dry dessert heat.

In Jaipur we took at rickshaw ride through old Jaipur. The stunning colors of the saris glittered as they hit the sun. Women sat making the cheap bracelet bangles we'd seen everywhere and a man stood killing a chicken with flies swarming in a black cloud around the parts left on the board.

We shopped and ate and at one point my mom and I where followed by a boy for 45 minutes who would wait creepily outside the stores while we would bargain inside. I was sure I would see him standing outside our hotel in the morning, so creepy and persistent were his antics.

Instead, as I boarded the bus, a boy ran up to me with pictures he'd taken from our elephant ride up to the Amber Fort the day before. How he'd found us we didn't know. Obviously he had connections with the India Hawker Mafia, but it was still disconcerting to see him there a day later with my pictures.

We headed back to New Delhi on a six hour bus ride. Everyone mingled sharing stories or lay, dropping like flies to the famed Delhi belly. We arrived at our hotel with 45 minutes to get ready for dinner. Some people, a small group of four (out of 23) decided that they wanted an hour instead of 45 minutes, because they really weren't all that hungry. I mentioned that it was "Kinda rude, since the rest of us will be downstairs waiting for you when we could be packing, showering, or taking a nap."

They were unrepentant and still arrived at the bus 15 minutes later then everyone else, knowing the van driver would wait, because this was the moment where they would receive their tips for the week. It turned our last minutes with them sour and the only redemption came from the old couple we sat with at dinner, sharing how they met, and the English woman telling us her experience in the jewelery store.

She'd walked into the store to look at jewelery with her boyfriend. A man, visiting the store went ashen. "You're crown chakra is so strong." He said. He entered a number on the calculator and held up three fingers. "How many pregnancies have you had?" He asked. "Three." She said. "How old are you?" She answered and he turned the calculator. It was the age she would be this year.

He looked at the boyfriend. "You have a bladder problem." He was a smoker, and one would think, if they were to diagnose him it would be with a lung issue, but the boyfriend sat down. Stunned. He had been diagnosed with a rare bladder condition right before the trip. "Your son who suffers from depression needs this stone." Said the man and gave it to the English woman for, yes, her son who really suffers from depression.

"And you. You need to stop putting all your pain here. (The man pointed to the side of his stomach.) You need to get strong and wear this sapphire bracelet, that amethyst (he points to her necklace) makes you weak. Heal this (He points again to his stomach.)." She told us she had been suffering from a weird stomach allergy and her mother and grandmother both had stomach cancer and her mother had just recently died.

As they walked into their hotel room that night, her amethyst necklace, that she's never taken off, fell into the floor. The clasp is broken and she is unable to get it back together.

And that. That is India.

Indian Time Warp

2009-06-01T16:16:00.004-04:00

My sister sent a last minute text saying I should wear a "Where's the Beef?" Shirt. Unfortunately I forgot to pack mine. I'm on Air India looking up last minute details of the trip on my phone. The weather is going to be a balmy 105 degrees during the day and a cozy 90 in the cold evenings. The time? A mere 9 and a half hours later. Half? Half. I didn't know time zones ran on the half but apparently they do. Our safety information card has pictures of women in saris opening the emergency doors and putting on the oxygen masks. I tried to post a picture but my phone won't let me. The people on our tour are a mixed bag of crazy and I'm already a particular fan of the lezzies in their blue clogs with socks. This is shaping up to be a fine trip.

Chronicles of My Mother

2009-06-01T00:53:00.003-04:00

My mother offered to write this blog for me detailing the humiliating and annoying episodes that occured on her flights from Sacramento to New York and then on to Boston. Details of the weird lady laying her head so close to her leg, my mom couldn't even put down her arm rest to change her TV channels. Details of the flight attendants who laughed at her for locking but not shutting the bathroom door all the way. But as it stands, one AM here in Boston, 11 PM in California (has my mum ever gone to bed so early), after a full late dinner hanging out with my boy, she is asleep in my bed while I type this blog.

Water with your Reading?

2009-05-30T16:55:00.004-04:00

I'm sitting in a park on a beach in San Juan minding my own business, reading the book eat, pray, love, trying to get to the part where she goes to India in time for my own trip to India. As I sit here three guys, probably 18 or 19 years old have come over close enough to my towel that I can feel the drips from their wet swim trunks. Really? I'm in a relatively empty park and you choose on top of me as a good place to stand? Really?

I would flatter myself and say that they were showing off for me, but they haven't so much as glanced in my direction, which then leads me to believe I have become somewhat invisable. It gives me the overwhelming urge to start yelling "I'm drowning I'm drowning!!! Every time they drip on me.

Apps.

2009-05-29T23:45:00.004-04:00

The T-Mobile phone that I have has apps much like, or in some cases the same as the iphone. I can play games, look up movie times, download my bank statement and a number of other things in matter of seconds. They have apps for everything. What's the weather like? There's an app for that. Where's the nearest cab company? There's an app for that. How many calories are in this Double Cheeseburger? Yup. You could even track your period, if you really wanted to and, well, you know, if you're inflicted with that monthly curse. There is even a Dildo app. To which I have to say, "Really?" It poses a fine argument for not borrowing someone else's phone.

Today being an unexpected day off of sorts, and the weather being a cool and drizzly 52 (I checked it on my weather app), I occupied myself with a new download that edits songs into ring tones. I stuck with the songs that I was already using, but edited them into more appropriate sections. If you were to call me for instance, my phone would start singing Blondie's "Call me" right at the call me part. For Crew Services a Fine Frenzy's Liar-Liar now starts ringing right at "Liar-liar. You're such a great big liar. Set your pants on fire." Pretty dang appropriate. And for the wonderful boyfriend, whose bald head I count amongst my blessings, Ingrid Michaelson's "The way I am" now starts off with "I will buy you Rogane when you start losing all your hair."

I guess my punishment is just. Neither Crew Services or my boy has called me yet today. My fun is over, I'm going to bed. Hold on, I'm turning on my sleep sounds app.

Win-Win Negotiating

2009-05-28T23:15:00.002-04:00

I was standing in the back galley when it happened. Someone had opened the front overhead bin and a huge cane fell out and fawacked some old lady on the head. From my vantage point it was hysterical. From her's, I would later learn, it was not.

We had one of those dancing conversations any flight attendant has had with a disgruntled passenger. A dance between "What will the airline do for me?" And the "Are you too injured to fly?" question. Our conversation went like this:

The Daughter: Ma'am can you get my mother some ice for her head.

Me: Here you go Ma'am. If you need any Aspirin once the safety demo is done, I'd be happy to get it for you.

Old Lady: Wah! I can't take Aspirin.

Me: Well, actually it's not Aspirin, it's Tylenol type stuff.

Old Lady: No. No. I can't take Tylenol.

Me: Okay, let me be more clear. It's actually generic...

The Daughter: No she can't take any of that.

Old Lady: Oh, but my head hurts. That cane came out of nowhere. Oh, my head.

Me: Well, do you need medical attention?

Old Lady: I have a lump this big!

Me: Ma'am are you okay to take this flight?

The Old Lady straightened up and suddenly became visibly stronger.

Old Lady: What do you mean?

Me: Well, if you are feeling terrible, then you really shouldn't be flying. We can get you some medical attention here on the ground, but up in the air there isn't a lot we can do for you.

The Daughter: SHE'S FINE!

And, shockingly enough, she did seem to be fine. And we were able to amuse ourselves by watching her with the icepack smack dab on top of her head. Win-Win.

Blockbuster

2009-05-27T22:21:00.005-04:00

I just deleted everything that I had just typed. And since I am typing this on my phone I have but one choice and that is to retype everything. The idea of retypiing everything makes me madder, yes madder, at my phone then I am at Blockbuster. Which is to say, "Very mad."

I, being my father's daughter, agreed to continue my Blockbuster Online service for a free month, knowing I would have to cancel said service by May 22nd. I was flying on May 22nd and a few days before that as well, and simply didn't remember. I did remember a few times but cell phone reception is scarce at 36,000 ft.

At any rate, I found perverse joy in the fact that Blockbuster didn't have my new credit card info (I left the old card in London) and therefore they couldn't charge me anyway. Even though I hadn't paid, I still ended up with two new movies in my mail box.

Frustrated I opened them up to see one of them was A Hard Day's Night, a Beattles movie that has been the number one movie in my queue for about a year and a half. Next to the title was always a note that read "Very long wait." When I called to cancel my service I remember the girl telling me that I could optimize the length of wait time between movies by moving those that said "Very long wait" down to the bottom of my queue.

I did what she said for movies like Cocaine Cowboy (thank you Andy Warhol) and others that weren't quite as important to me. But move A Hard Day's Night I would not. And now, only now, when I haven't payed for my, what should be cancelled service, Blockbuster pulled through and sent me my number one movie choice. I hate them. I love them.

Stop Thief: The Musical

2009-05-27T00:10:00.005-04:00

I stole a fleece sweater today. I know, first blogs about alcohol, now, I'm a thief. It started with a finding a sweater in the overhead bin. I pulled it out, hesitant to even touch it because you never know what you will find in the stuff left behind on the plane. As I brought it down to eye level I marveled at its nice quality. It was a woman's sweater and it had the name of a company embroidered on the side. Size M. It looked like it would fit me.

"I need one of these." I said of the sweater. "I think I'll just keep it." (Generally things are returned via the gate agent and on to baggage claim.) I tried it on during boarding. It fit. It was still more or less unattractive, as fleece jackets tend to be on me, leading to the reason I don't actually own my own.

My conscience got the best of me. I returned it to the front of the plane for the gate agent to take it and said, "If I'm going to steal something, it needs to be cuter than this." I felt better about my choices.

Then as I was walking off the next flight, I saw something black laying in the front overhead bin. It was the sweater. My sweater. I took it. I walked off the plane. I was waiting for the T stop bus and it was chilly. I thought about my new sweater and was glad.

You know what they say, "You've got trouble. Right here in River City. And that starts with drinking and ends with stealing, oh yeah, you got trouble!"

High Praise

2009-05-26T07:55:00.002-04:00

A girl I flew with two Christmas's ago walked on the plane yesterday. As we talked she realized she had read something I had written a long time ago. "Are you the one who wrote the plastic surgery piece?" She asked me excitedly. I was. "Oh, I'm so excited to see you again! I was just telling someone I wish I knew who it was, because it's stuck with me and I wanted to let you know how good it was."

I think I'm still smiling.

Vodka with your Spring Water?

2009-05-25T02:34:00.003-04:00

As long as we are on the topic of buzz, buzz, buzzed, I worked a Las Vegas flight today. The Long Beach to Las Vegas flight is about 45 minutes long. We provide a beverage and snack service, and will sell alcohol on request, if we are feeling kind, and if we have the time.

Today a young guy got on board. "You serve alcohol on this flight, right?" he asked. "No, but I may be able to help you out." Was our response. He decided straight away that he was going to get more flies with flirting, rather then vinegar. "Hey, L.L.! I bet I'm the only one who calls you that." I looked at him and straight faced, said, "No. My sister calls me that all the time." Which is true. I thought I had him, because his friends were all, "OoohHHHhhhh, she got you man." But he cooly responded, "Sweet, look, we are like a family already!"

In the end, I served him the vodka.

Pirate Juice

2009-05-23T22:33:00.003-04:00

Not too unlike the blog my brother ghost wrote the other day that started "Buzz, buzz, buzz. BUZZED!" This one starts with a little sex on the pirate juice. Actually it really started with the loosely termed white sangria, but then it progressed to the sex on a pirate juice. Apparently a strong drink with rums and jagermeister, mixed with pineapple juice, it tastes not of alcohol, only of delicious.

The BBQ, one held at friends of the boyfriends, had a huge mix of people who didn't know each other. The pirate juice helped loosen them up and soon everyone was chatting away like old friends. I even met people who live on the same street as me, but origanally are from Eau Claire, Wisconsin (a good friend's home town) and for vacation they visit friends in Clearlake. Further proof it's a small world.

While my brother, may have been buzzed the other day, I am not. Only full, and fully happy to have started my summer officially with a great BBQ, new friends, and yes, sex on a pirate juice.

Open Mouth, Insert Food. Uh, Foot.

2009-05-23T01:19:00.003-04:00

There is nothing better then walking into a clean apartment after a long trip. Usually when I leave for a trip my apartment is in a presentable state. Usually. Before I left on my most recent trip I gave myself a pedicure, dyed my hair and instead of cleaning up, made homemade biscuits. Homemade buttermilk biscuits. Really, really good, homemade buttermilk biscuits. Needless to say, my apartment was a mess.

Now, I don't know a lot of people in Boston, so it's pretty unusual to have someone over. Unless of course my apartment is a mess. That seems to be the opportune time for an invitation from me.

One of my co-workers needed a place to stay and faced with the idea of sleeping in the crew room in Boston until noon tomorrow was not ideal. I came up with the brilliant plan of her staying at my place. I opened my mouth. She got excited. I realized my apartment was a disaster. Crap.

But I have to say, I've never had anyone so grateful to say at my place before. It made it a nice situation as I cleaned up my toenail polish, blow dryer, 300 lotions and hair products and of course, the homemade buttermilk biscuit mess.

So Long, Farewell.

2009-05-22T00:37:00.004-04:00

There is a game, the So Long Game. The rules are simple, when the passengers walk off the plane we say "Goodbye, good night, good day, thank you." When an attractive passenger walks off the plane they get a "So long." It's subtle, it's simple, but exceedingly super fun.

The woman that I am flying with was saying a few "so longs" throughout the day, but they seemed arbitrarily placed. I finally asked her if she was familiar with the game. She was and told me an awesome story.

It seems that she once was flying with a pilot who was playing the So Long Game; she noticed it and was joking with him when a really large hot mess of a woman walked of the plane and coyly said, "So long!"

We finished our discussion of the So Long Game as we were cleaning the plane. The plane was almost clean when a man in an ethnic wrappy outfit and cap with frizzy hair sticking out in every direction, missing a few bottom teeth, walked towards us. "Soooo looonnng." He intoned to us in a come hither voice.

These are the People in your Neighborhood

2009-05-20T23:56:00.003-04:00

Scenes from a ten minute walk; my house in East Boston to the Maverick stop on the T.

It's a gorgeous day outside, I'm rushing to meet the boyfriend at work. The breeze is blowing. The thermometer in front of the bank that's across from Bank of America reads 78 degrees. I pass Dunkin Doughnuts and notice the constant cliche presence of policemen right in front.

As I turn the corner a woman in heavy blue eye shadow missing what would be a prominate tooth is asking a younger girl if she remembers the man she is greeting. "Remember" she said to them, "She testified at your trial."

I dial up the Marriot in Carlsbad to find out if my itouch was found in the hotel room. As I wait on hold I think to myself, this would make a great blog. I just need one more example of East Boston-y goodness to make it perfect.

Careful what you wish for. As I cross the streeet I hear yelling. A man in front of the police station is asking a Tunnel Taxi driver "What year d'you graduate high school?" (Response in thick Boston accent) "I don't know man, never made it that far."

I pass the thermometer in front of the Soveign Bank and as it always does it reads a few degrees warmer then the thermometer from moments ago. The construction at the T stop is getting crazy. Signs direct us to go around. We walk down the middle of the street forcing traffic to slow instead. I make it to the T without further incident and type this blog as I make my way to see the boyfriend for the first time in what seems like weeks.

Off Key

2009-05-19T23:11:00.004-04:00

More then all my fingers and toes is the number of times I watched the movie First Wives Club in high school. My sister and brother and I loved the song and dance at the end where Diane Keaton, Bette Middler, and Goldie Hawn bust out singing "You Don't Own Me".

As we were packing to leave for my mom's birthday extravaganza, something sarcastic was said and my sister busted out with "Whatever, you don't own me. (Singing) Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba baaaaaaaa!" My brother joined in somewhere in the middle of the "ba ba ba ba's" and on the last one I added my own very loud "BAAAAAAAAA!"

Like a trio of the off key, obnonoxious siblings we are, we proceeded to sing as much of the song as we could remember, which was a very good amount, much to the horror, amusment and chagrin of my brother-in-law, who, in all honesty probably deserved it by making the sarcastic comment in the first place.

The next day in Carlsbad, my brother was searching through his music. He found the song from the soundtrack and to annoy my brother-in-law we started playing it and singing in his face. My five year old newphew had just helped himself to some cereal when, at our singing a pained expression crossed his face. "Stop it guys." He said.

We continued to sing. He took his bowl of Fruit Loops off the table and in a panic, ran off, pausing briefly after crashing into a coffee table and spilling milk. He cowered with his father while we belted out "I'm young and I love to be young, I'm free and I love to be free".

Lego Land and a 60th Birthday

2009-05-18T11:11:00.004-04:00

Somehow my mom's birthday Italian cruise (Jordan doesn't fly and my dad didn't want to take the time off work) turned into a trip to Canada, (no one could agree on which side of Canada to visit), then it improved to hot air ballooning in Napa (Jenn couldn't wine taste, my mom backed out of ballooning), so we decided on San Diego which really turned into Carlsbad and a trip to Lego Land. How it came to be that the entire family was actually excited about Lego Land (and In and Out burger) I can't quite figure out, but the facts are as such, everyone, except maybe the woman actually having her birthday (who just is excited to have her family with her) is thrilled to go to Lego Land today.

Arty Chokes on Birthday Cake

2009-05-17T03:10:00.004-04:00

There was a flurry of phone messages, facebook threads and "Uh, let me get back to you on that's", but in the end, we had one successful party.

We asked for a toast or a roast from the guests for our mother on her suprise 60th birthday party. My mum, in deflecting the praise lavished upon her by her friends, took to roasting herself. As she was telling stories about herself, they somehow turned into really good stories about other people.

Denise for instance, when refering to my mom as her "Rock and sanity through really rough times" received a "And that just goes to show you how messed up Denise really is, if I'm her sanity."

My mom also told the classic "Salad Dressing Story". She was mentioning that everyone thinks she is so nice all the time however... "Well, Claudia you remember the time Tara, in three bold strong shakes, shook the salad dressing all over herself, her hair and my wall. I was so angry at her, and had her over the sink, shirt off while I was violently srubbing her hair, muttering."

Tara, unfortunately not there to defend herself in the classic Salad Dressing Story then became the brunt of the Artichoke Joke. Again, another classic story, only funny because of how hard we laugh when we talk about it.

I gave some thought to it tonight. My mom said it was the "BEST PARTY EVER!" (She has to think so, she's our mum.) I think she had more fun roasting others than actually hearing the sincere toasts made in her honor. Maybe that is so, but I know we all really enjoyed the retelling of the classic Artichoke joke.

This is you: if you were me: and your brother was semi-intoxicated

2009-05-15T18:39:00.004-04:00

buzz buzz buzz.
BUZZED!

Well, anyways. Just another day, another dollar...

I'm just finishing what the good LORD started!

Or do I mean the good LAURA started?

Either way...IT DOESN'T MEAN MUCH!!!!

RIGHT? right?

eh...o.k...

These back slashes are driving me nuts! /////////////////

uh huh...

yeah...

//////////////////////////////////////////!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Truth Baby Blue?

2009-05-14T13:49:00.006-04:00

There I was, sitting in the JFK crewroom with seven language of destination speakers. Basically these LOD's are the spanish speakers for our Carribean flights. Because we have a huge need for spanish speakers the airline has changed their LOD program multiple times to prevent the LOD's from transfering out of the program. The most recent change was making the program a life time commitment.

A few of the LOD's in the crew room have been here at JB for a long time. A couple of the LOD's just got out of training a few weeks ago. This was the conversation I observed feeling like I was at a tennis match.

Baby Blue: Yeah, well, if I don't like it, then I'll get out of it at the year's end.

Senior Blue: It's a lifetime program.

Baby Blue: No, they told us in the interview that we could get out after a year.

Senior Blue: No way man. They lied to you. Even before that it was two years.

Baby Blue: They lied to us!?

Senior Blue: How new are you?

Baby Blue: Three weeks.

Senior Blue: (laughs his butt off) No way man, you are in the program for life.

Female Baby Blue: No, they told us at my interview that we could get out after a year.

Female Senior Blue: (Reading the manual) "Program is for the entire duration of career at JB"

Senior Blue: SEE! Right there. Fine print. You are STUCK!

The three baby blues got quiet. "That's not what they told us." One stuttered.

Right then the Senior Blue noticed I had a smirk on my face. "You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

Laura: "No habla espanol." And for once, I was very glad.

Fancy Pants

2009-05-13T22:08:00.004-04:00

So those people, the ones who wear sneakers with business suits, or the ones who wear jeans and dress shirts, you know the ones. Perhaps you are one? A fancy wedding dress with flip flops?

Dressy on the top and casual on the bottom.

It's much like that hairstyle from the 80's. The mullet. Hot.

Response to the Snack Basket

2009-05-12T00:23:00.005-04:00

"Would you like a snack?"
"No. Would you like a banana?"

"Would you like a snack?"
"My dad's over there?"

"Would you like a snack?"
"Can you take this trash for me?"

And ironically enough, the dad "over there" left his two banana peels as trash in his seat back pocket.

Notes About Sailboats

2009-05-11T20:43:00.003-04:00

1. Open bathroom windows equal soggy toilet paper.

2. Coffee (well, three cups of coffee) equals sea sick.

3. Captian Kirk does exist and claims he can get me a million dollars plus he lies about the weather.

4. Rain on the plain may be quite nice. Rain for seven days on the seven seas equals happiness that I packed my water resistant wind breaker.

5. Willy T's minus cheap tequila and the trashy girl in a white dress with a supposedly firm butt (no really, feel it) is a good time by all.

6. Deet will not minus the misquitoes biting Michelle and Andrea.

7. Walking on land after seven days of water equals an unnerving swaying feeling.

8. Mushroom tea multiplied by alcohol and pot plus a live band equals crazy boys shirtless dancing.

9. Sailing equals terrifying. Gliding through the water on a slant in a squall adds up to wonderful, exhilarating and fun.

10. Saving 20 dollars a month for ten years equals additional sailing fun, hopefully minus the seven days of rain.

Sailing. Part Deux.

2009-05-11T04:33:00.004-04:00

Because a picture is worth a thousand words.

Welcome Home.

2009-05-10T01:08:00.003-04:00

Sailing. There are so many things to say about my sailing trip, that I'm not sure how to condense it into a concise and readable blog. I may just chop it into three parts. To start, I'll start with coming home.

In justification of the fact that I had told Andrea some people just aren't good at taking a long vacation, she told me that there are three phrases a person most enjoys hearing. "I love you." "Dinner's ready." and "Welcome home."

I thought about the last time I heard "Welcome home." I couldn't actually remember, because for me, being gone is such a standard part of my life; I've grown much more accustomed to the phrase "I miss you." After living with flight attendants for a few years, and now on my own, we just don't do "Welcome home's".

For me, a welcome home implies some sort of permanency, as if I was going to actually be at home for some length of time. But that is anything but my life. My plane landed tonight at 11:00 PM and I leave tomorrow at 4 PM. A welcome home, just seems a little wasted.

So I thought about it a little longer and told Andrea my three favorite phrases. "I love you." "Dinner's ready." and "Would you like bacon with that?"

Life Lessons

2009-04-30T21:58:00.004-04:00

Jenn, you might not want to read this.

My blog today was going to be entitled: Lessons I learned from a Ft. Lauderdale flight. These were going to include 1. Tomato juice cures a nervous fliers nerves and 2. If you only want to listen to your TV, but not watch it, the headset should be free.

The one lesson Ft. Lauderdale couldn't prepare me for? What to do when your sister miscarries her baby. When I landed in Ft. Lauderdale I had three messages, one from dad, one from my brother and a teary sounding one from my mum. I immediately thought "My nephew!" then, "Grandma!" but when I heard "Baby Emma." the name we'd christened "her" I was more nauseous then sad.

When my brother-in-law answered the phone in his typical "What up Lauralai." The tears started to fall as I sat in the Ft. Lauderdale crew room. There is really nothing that can prepare for what to say. So I didn't say much, "Holla, what up? I mean, how's it going... I mean... Hey. Are you okay?"

And it's even worse when my brother, a cynical hater of children say's "I bought her a present yesterday." And when I realized I almost put her card in the mail yesterday, the card that says "You're pregnant? How'd that happen?" A wave of nausea hit again and there is nothing Ft. Lauderdale life lessons can do to help.

Just Leave the Money on the Nightstand

2009-04-30T00:42:00.003-04:00

So apparently there is this point in a relationship when it's time to talk finances. Until now, I really haven't been a part of a relationship that gets that far along. (I really want to joke around and say that usually the boys just put the money on the nightstand and leave, but my mum reads this and I really don't want her to kill over.) Anyways, one of the things that concerns me about sharing finances is the fact that right now I spend copious amounts of money on travel and I'm not ready to give that up.

The boyfriend meets with a group that just so happens to be discussing finances. I decided that now would be a good time to discuss our own, mainly mine, and the fact that although I don't make much money, what I do have goes to something that he won't be able to participate in. And facts as they are, someday my money I'm spending on vacations that he can't take, might be his money I'm spending.

His response was so understanding and supportive I wanted to cry. But I didn't because that would have made an already awkward conversation really, really awkward. Plus that would qualify me for the mushy person competition and I'm not that mushy. I will admit I couldn't help a few "You're great!'s" and a phone call to a couple friends exclaiming of all the reasons being in a great relationship is so much better then collecting money from a nightstand. (I'm kidding mom!)

I Did Not Make This Up!

2009-04-28T20:29:00.003-04:00

My sister flew JB from California and was laughing because the woman in the front row refused to put up her purse. She told me, "You tell me stories like that, but to see it actually happens..."

People, I do not make this crap up. And it's not just me, either. Rory, thank you for posting the best ever customer story in your Facebook status. Thank you. I'm now going to steal if for my blog. (I know, back to writing blogs for one day and I'm already stealing other peoples material.)

Rory:
I know home girl is not trying to get rowdy with me because we don't have hand sanitizers and mask..and because we don't know if this plane has been to Mexico...I just know she ain't!

Then he reposts after a few comments:
OMG! And the lady behind her goes and let me quote" its ok the swine flu will just make you skinny" ROFL!!!!

And then the icing on the cake:
And take a wild guess were I am West Palm Beach! Of course.

I couldn't make it up if I wanted to.

Am I my Parents?

2009-04-27T21:06:00.003-04:00

My mum and dad have this movie quote from some crazy Ben Stiller movie that goes something like, "Wanna buy a boat? I think I'll by a boat." For some reason this quote just makes them laugh and laugh. We kids have always been annoyed with it and don't get humored when they begin giggling.

There has been a lot of boat talk going on in my life this past month. What between pirates in the news, planning a sailing trip and my boyfriends new roommate who works on for a sailing center, boat speak has been running pretty rampant.

Tonight the boyfriend and I ate dinner in the park as we watched the sunset. There were sail boats docked in front of us and we sat enjoying a quiet moment as the sun disapeared behind the building of the Boston skyline. "I think I want a boat." He suddenly blurted out. And something about that sentence made me laugh.

Am I becoming my parents?

WWJAD

2009-04-23T18:55:00.004-04:00

What Would Jane Austin Do?

It has been really strange not writing blogs everyday. I've tried once, from my itouch, which works in the states, but apparently was having issues as I sat in a pub in Notting Hill drinking a sip of my wine and then a sip of my frozen coffee drink.

Instead I've taken to telling Katy my blogs. "You know you are far away from Mexico when you're eating nachos with a topping of mango ketchup and guacamole that contains corn. That's what I would write today."

We are having a fantastic time. We went to Bath today and my inner Jane Austin almost peed her pants. The outer Jane Austin remained professional and mature. It's unfortunate the outer Jane Austin couldn't have remained when we traveled to Stonehedge. We lolled about in the field, trying our hardest to get a picture of a sheep resting on top of our head, or at the very least in our hand. The stares from the others on our tour assured us, our outer Jane was very far away.

And tonight as we couldn't escape the English boys who were telling us "I'm a botox doctor, record producer, import/exporter, restauranter" our inner, pants wetting Jane Austin said, "oh, that's interesting! My partner and I are going in to get a drink."

And do you know what? I think the real Jane Austin would have been proud.

Crew Travel Needs a Vacation

2009-04-19T13:52:00.003-04:00

So I have arrived at JFK, hungry, and when I looked in the mirror, still makeup free. I actually forgot to put on makeup. That is a feat in itself. Katy and I are heading to London. We both haven't slept because we worked redeyes last night and it was only this morning we realized we aren't able to list ourselves for our flight before hand because the office is only open standard bank hours and today is Sunday.

Wait, that is, I realized forementioned fact when I looked at my tickets. Katy on the other hand, never even recieved her tickets, complements de la Jetblue's oganized and together crew travel center. The shiny crown to this whole situation (for me) is that upon further investigation, I just realized Katy was charged 30 dollars more then me for her ticket. Maybe the crew travel center should take a vacation. They seem to need it more then my makeup free, hungry, tired self. And that says quite a bit.

Sabbath Required. Return Tomorrow.

2009-04-18T17:52:00.003-04:00

It may be a Jewish Sabbath, but I have been doing anything but resting. I guess it's a good thing I'm not Jewish right? This really has nothing to do with Sabbath or Jewishness, but I was just thinking a day of rest would be wonderful.

My blog almost read like this:

Sabbath in progress. Return tomorrow.

But I didn't want to laze out, even thought I'm supposed to be at the gate right now, awaiting my redeye. I read the book "Year of Biblical living" by A.J. Jacob and one of the traditions he really enjoyed at the end of his year was Sabbath. Just taking time to set aside and rest. Be still. Be quiet.

Right now, I have to run. I'll be running basically non stop until I board the plane heading for London on Sunday evening. Whoa is me. Leaving for vacation is a pain in the butt.

Painfully Embarrassing

2009-04-18T00:08:00.004-04:00

So this falls under embarrassing, but not as embarrassed as I was when I saw the the homeless looking man vigorously humping the sidewalk today.

I bought a new pair of pants. They are nothing that I would usually wear, but I needed something lightweight and easy for India. I wore them today when I went to Manhattan to get my Indian visa.

After spending about 20 minutes with the visa people, I then had 20 hours to kill in the city. So I took about 20 hundred pictures and walked 20 thousand blocks, from one end of city to the other, lengthwise and width wise. This is no small feat.

So is it any wonder I am in pain? My feet, yes they have small blisters that even my pedicure break mid afternoon, couldn't cure, my legs aren't too bad, as I am an avid walker, but it is the chafing from my new pants that has me not only in pain, but also embarrassed. My butt and thighs HURT so bad!!! It hurts to sit, hurts to stand, hurts to exist.

I hate my new pants.

Wahfun

2009-04-17T01:56:00.003-04:00

After the enticing reviews on Yelp, like "Scary death trap." Or "Crazy asian drivers!" And variations of "NOT FUN!" or "makes me want to say "Wah!" I finally decided to suck it up and take the two AM Fungwah bus from Boston to New York.

I was a little nervous as to what kind of scary asian driver "wah" inducing not fun death trap I had just signed myself up for, but anything had to be better then the Yelp review of the Lucky Star that read "Weird creepy guy got in an altercation with bus driver after someone vomitted on bus. As he stormed off his suitcase flew open spilling out porn and lube and not many clothes." There was also the review of another bus line where the driver delivered newspapers along the way. Then of course there were the Grey hound reviews which rival the Lucky star reviews and only come out ahead because there were so many examples of inappropriateness I couldn't continue reading, just in case my fate one day leads me to a Greyhound bus. For now I will enjoy my fun and not yet "wah" experience. Although (and I'm not kidding) there is a strange rattle underneath the bus.

My "Friend" Was Wondering...

2009-04-16T00:15:00.004-04:00

Have you ever told someone something personal, just needing to tell someone, anyone, but not wanting to tell your friends, you instead pick a random stranger and dump on them only to hope never to see them again?

And have you ever, after telling that random stranger all your business, run into them two years later at a friend's house?

Did they recognize you? Even after you cut off your hair and dyed it, say, orange?

Did they announce in front of your friend, "Oh, your the girl who [insert personal business here]!!!"?

Did your friend start laughing and walk out of the room?

Yeah. About that...

Shady Lady

2009-04-14T06:06:00.003-04:00

I don't even know where to begin with this one, so let's just start with the fact that she's a Tampa commuter. I can only list two of them, one from Boston, that I actually like. The others are odd and difficult to work with.

A few days ago I flew with this fantastic girl, Lisa. She was using a lavender calming lotion that smelled wonderful and had a great consistency. We were working on a plane that had a few TV issues. We wrote them up to get fixed, but as it was a weekend, they were left broken.

Last night I worked a red eye. Tampa was working with me, an unfortunate event, if only for the fact that her personality grates me the wrong way. I'm nice to her; she's an okay flight attendant but somewhere around three in the morning I have to back away, not trusting myself to hold my tongue.

Before boarding I noticed we were flying on the plane with the broken TVs. I mentioned this fact, stopping to kick the TV box underneath the seat, as I walked up to the front. When I reached the front galley I saw, sitting next to a big bottle of musky vanilla hand lotion, the little bottle of lavender calming lotion. I excitedly exclaimed, "Oh, is this yours?! I just discovered the stuff on my last trip!" "Yeah, it's mine." Was Tampa's response.

I didn't think about it until I was struggling to squeeze some lotion out of the almost empty packaging. The plane was the same plane that Lisa had left her calming lotion sitting in the front galley, two days before. The calming lotion, had in fact, just been discovered, and hence, claimed, by Tampa. Instead of saying, "Oh, I just found that in the bin.", she said, "Yeah, it's mine."

Annoyed at the shadiness of her response, (and not even yet boarding the first flight of the night) I retired to the back galley to snip about the situation to the third flight attendant. Mid flight, Tampa came to the back and pulled a camera out of her pocket, she started snapping pictures of our passover almonds to send to the Cashbox. (The Cashbox is a man who works in corporate who periodically sends us mildly retarded emails asking rhetorical questions wondering why we haven't been passing out the free hand lotion samples.)

As she snapped these pictures she mentioned to me that the other day she found a camera on the plane that was identical to her own camera. Now, under normal circumstances I wouldn't think that someone with one camera could possibly need two identical cameras. But as she snapped away, she added, "Isn't that great?!"

I couldn't help but think, "Great for... You?" Shady lady, that Tampa commuter.

Bank Error in Your Favor

2009-04-13T14:06:00.004-04:00

A refund check from the government? Pretty normal. A surprise check in the mail from a grandmother? A nice surprise. A billing error from an insurance company that takes weeks of arguing back and forth to finally achieve a credit? Been there, done that.

But a surprise, ten dollar, refund check from the Hottie Mahtottie Oral Surgeon with a note that says "Please accept our apologies and this check as we over estimated how much you would owe us. Hope your visit was as pleasant as possible. (under the circumstances)"? Let's just say it made my day.

God BLESS Starbucks.

2009-04-12T19:21:00.003-04:00

I've never been so excited to get up and go to church, as I was this morning. Lent was officially over and I was going to get a Starbucks and go to church. I passed four Dunkin Doughnuts but held out strong for the Starbucks right in front of the Gov Center stop on the T.

I approached it hesitantly, not seeing any signs of life. They were closed. I couldn't believe it. I headed over to the DD next door, after seeing someone enter. That door too was locked. It had been an employee entering. I knew it would be impossible for me to sit through a service without some sort of caffeine, something frequently readers of this blog will understand, as I have set a precedence for sleeping through church.

I passed one more Starbucks and one more DD, and after finding the DD open I grabbed a doughnut enjoying the deliciousness of doughnut dipped in coffee. I hadn't given up my dream of Starbucks though. After church I ran through Boston Commons and flung myself into the now open Starbucks and gazed lustily after all the treats I had been forbidden in the past 40 days. Lent was over and my Starbucks addiction is back with a vengeance.

God BLESS Starbucks.

Tiny Bouffant

2009-04-12T01:31:00.003-04:00

Tiny, the flight attendant who helped me catch the woman who ultimately hit her head on the slide raft, is, as the name suggests a little bit of a thing. She makes up for the smallness by being as bouffant as possible.

Where I flatten my hair within an inch of it's life (and sometimes, just flat to the death), hers is as big as mine, but with obvious intention. Her heels are high, her makeup is done, and, although we are about the same age of 28, she is going on 45, while I am going on 24.

While flying together I noticed she said a lot of "God bless her." Or him. Or them. Or you. Imagine Fran Dressier, the nanny with that voice, but imagine her, minus an actual whine. For instance: Tiny's father, God BLESS him, doesn't know what to call the chicken nuggets at McDonald's. Since every fast food chain seems to have it's own name for them, (God BLESS them.) her father, so adorably, God BLESS him, calls them Chicken Littles.

While I was boarding our Newark to Tampa flight today a gate agent came on board and handed me an attitude infused 14-year-old girl. I sent the girl to her seat and the gate agent said something to me about her attitude to which I responded, "God BLESS her."

Tiny Bouffant, I "God BLESS you" in your general direction.

I Turn Men Gay

2009-04-11T02:31:00.002-04:00

There was an artical in a recent Marie Claire magazine that featured female comedians talking about what the business is like for a woman. The point was made that women comedians tend to have a lot of gay fans. One of the woman said, "Traditionally straight men don't like strong females. The gays have nothing to be intimidated by and therefore are able to enbrace the women comedians with more enthusiasm."

I thought this was an interesting point and discussed it with the boyfriend and his friend over lunch today. Then I headed into work. When I let the captian out for a bathroom break the First Officer asked me about by natural hair color. I told him I change it all the time because it gave me a fresh perspective and kept me interested in life. I told him if I didn't change it often who knew what would happen. I would probably quit my job, ditch the boy, or move somewhere interesting.

He told me I needed to be more receiving. In a spanish accent he informed me that men are givers but women no longer needed men to give anything. I want to by you a house, you own a house. I want to buy you a car, you own a car. I want to by you a cell phone, yours is nicer then mine. I want to buy you a ring or have childern, and... I interupted him there. "I have a ring!" I enthusastically told him.

"You are the reason men are gay." Was his response.

Friends? What's that?

2009-04-10T02:39:00.005-04:00

This morning I hopped out of bed, excited to be up and about, even thought the amount of sleep that I had was negligible. I was heading into the city (New York) to meet up with Cameron and Kristy, my former New York roommates. We met at Max Brenner, Chocolate by the Bald Man, and ordered an array of breakfast goodnesses. To complete my happiness, my server friend, Aaron was about to begin working and we briefly caught up before his shift.

Before I headed back to the airport Cam and Kristy and I explored some of the design stores around Union Square. After I almost had a heart attack of ecstaticness and shed tears of joy while exploring ABC home store, and after I convinced Kristy of wonders that is Fiberwig Mascara and physically pushed Cam out of the cologne section at Sephora, we ended up in Barnes and Noble.

As Cam and I wandered around exploring the odd wares that Barnes and Noble stocks, he put his arms around me in a big backward bear hug and said, "I missed you, friend."

After I left Cam and Kristy doing Cam and Kristy type activities in Union Square, I headed to the subway, happy and yet sad. I missed them, friends.

Will You Catch Me if I Fall?

2009-04-09T01:02:00.003-04:00

Last night on the way to San Francisco I actually told a passenger to ring their call button. This is not something a flight attendant would usually tell a passenger, but there were extenuating circumstances.

A rather large woman came up to me mid-flight and said, "I'm not feeling very well." I looked at her and could see immediately she was about to pass out. The other flight attendant, a tiny girl, was in my galley with me and asked her if she was feeling nauseous. I knew I should have jumped up to get orange juice, but there was a lot going on at the same time, so I hesitated waiting for her response to Tiny's question.

After seeing her disoriented answer, I got up and moved to get her juice immediately. As I did I jokingly said to her, "Don't go passing out on me now." I looked over at her and she was leaning precariously over the edge of the bulkhead. She slid even further and I dropped the juice and went to catch her.

I had my hands pushing her shoulders up and had she been small I would have just flipped her over and slid her to the ground. But no. She was not small and as she passed completely out she became dead weight. The tiny flight attendant made some valiant attempt at propping up the lady as I pushed on her sideways with my hands underneath her shoulders. Her weight instead flopped her onto the floor, face down, and she hit her head with a thud against the slide raft in the door.

As soon as I saw her move, I knew she was at least alive and began worrying about the contents of my two bags she was laying across. At the same time the phone rang as the captain called asking "Who just passed out? I heard a distinct thud."

The woman was fine. She sat on the floor and drank some orange juice (after Tiny considerately moved her off of my bags), ate a few cashews and animal crackers, mildly embarrassed that she had passed out of the plane. She declined medical assistance, favoring instead to return to her seat with her husband and baby. And I threatened her not to get up if she needed help but instead told her to ring her call button. I was done playing catch.

Smoothie Please!

2009-04-08T03:48:00.005-04:00

Today I was looking forward to an easy crowd. Austin has always been relatively easy to deal with and Ft. Lauderdale is bad, but not on par with, say, West Palm Beach.

No such luck. My Ft. Lauderdale to Austin flight had me working it. A commuting flight attendant even mentioned to me, "I bet when we land, people will be surprised we are in Austin and not West Palm."

On this particular flight even the three-year-olds were high maintenance. After one had dinged her call button a sufficient amount of times I headed over to where she sat. Hey, that button is only for if you really, really need something. Do you need anything? "Yeah!!!" What would you like? "A SMOOTHIE!" Oh, but I didn't bring my blender. "Well, when my mom makes it they have strawberries, and, and, some yogurt, and some bananas." Oh, well, I don't have any of those either! "But you can get stuff at Publix*. My mom goes there." I'll remember that for my next flight. Maybe you would like an apple juice instead? "OKAY!"

*Publix is a grocery store in florida, similar to Vons, Safeway or Shop and Stop.

Clayton's Report

2009-04-06T19:45:00.003-04:00

I couldn't believe it. When I woke this morning I realized that I had forgotten to write my 50th blog yesterday. It wasn't because I lacked things to write about, for after all it was Palm Sunday, I had seen Dirty Dancing the Musical a few hours prior, it was my 50th post which should call for some sort of celebration and I had even jokingly, told the boyfriend I was going to write about the girls who discussed the quantity of food I had ordered at dinner by rolling their eyes over to my table and casting surreptitious glances at me as the said out loud, "Wow, look, that's a lot of food."

At any rate, I woke up this morning and realized I simply had forgotten to write the blog. I walked into work not sure what I should do to remedy the situation until I ran into Clayton, my special needs passenger. We were delayed a few minutes at the gate and he told me about his Palm Sunday.

Clayton's Report:
"So we are sitting here at the gate because there is a thundershower? Friday there was a thundershower in Miltonboro, (Or so that's where I think he said.) that's where I live. I was going to take a walk but instead I watched TV and just relaxed because I did the smart thing, don't you think? (I nodded my agreement.) And then on Sunday, because it was Palm Sunday, you know, they gave us Palms to wave, so we waved some palms and there was some scriptures that we read. And it was good, but then after we did this (He crosses himself, catholic style.) I grabbed some pamphlets because they were free, so I grabbed a few, and had tuna salad and pasta which was really good, you know, tuna salad. I enjoyed it. And then I went to bed. See I'm wearing a jacket now so I don't get cold. I don't want to catch a cold because tomorrow is my birthday."

Make it Burn

2009-04-04T23:50:00.002-04:00

On Friday during the Freestyle Aerobics and Low Impact Conditioning classes I took at the gym the running conversations went something like this:

"Madonna is 50? She looks really good. Let's work on the biceps. What she really needs is a guy her own age. What's going on with that kid she adopted? So I'm not going to count these reps, I'm just going to do some. If you all get tired, take a break. Anyways, what about that octo mom? If you can't take care of the kids, then you shouldn't be having them. I mean at least be able to hire a nanny. Angelina Jolie I'm sure has a nanny, although Brad does seem very hands on. Okay three more of these kicks."

It may have made time pass quickly, but my muscles, unaccustomed to the vigors of exercise are crying today. I'm hoping in the next class we can stick to:

"One more set! Make it burn! Three! Two! One! And back, and back, and front, and front!" Maybe it will make my muscles feel a little better.

Freak Show in Galley One

2009-04-04T02:27:00.004-04:00

So I'm flying with this freak show of a man. We settled down into the jumpseats and as soon as he found out I'm from California he told me, "Well we can have a nice working relationship and then leave it at that, we obviously won't be friends."

During the flight, Freak Show walks up to the cart set up to block access to the cockpit door. Knowing the cockpit door was not going to be opened anytime soon, as the Captain was in the bathroom, I slid the cart over enough that Freak Show could walk into his messy galley and slid the cart back. He immediately got upset at me saying, "I can't believe you just did that! I'm trapped! I'm trapped!" Since he had just willingly walked into the galley, I wasn't sure what I done to trap him, or precisely why he thought he was trapped.

After a brief heated discussion about why he thought he was trapped, basically he boiled my safety procedures down to this stunning piece of logic. "It's precedence. I've never seen anyone do this before.(He was referring to the fact that I allowed him to enter the galley while the pilots were taking a break.) This is just unacceptable! I mean, it isn't done like this!" All the while I'm wondering why he stepped into the galley in the first place. And if he'd forgotten to take his Prozac. And why the pilots were taking so darn long to take a break.

I walked to the back galley (once we were free from our "trap") and complained to the woman I was flying with. She told me he was a little odd and liked things a certain way. I told her his galley was a mess, so I was surprised by this information. "Oh yeah" she said, "he doesn't like anyone to mess with it either. I've heard he's a slob at home too."

It gave me a deep and satisfying satisfaction to know that before I trapped him I had completely organized and cleaned his galley. Freak Show, we may not ever be friends, but a nice working relationship we will obviously never have.

Yoga and a Cookie

2009-04-03T01:48:00.003-04:00

One would think that any 20-something Californian would have done yoga at some point. I never did, but maybe I'm a bad Californian. Maybe I'm the kind of Californian that moves to the east coast and survives a long New England winter. Maybe.

I did do yoga once while I was in Syracuse, NY on a 30 hour layover during a typical winter snow storm. I got about half way through the program then got bored on a commercial break and proceeded to watch the rest of it laying on my bathroom towel in between the two standard full sized beds in my room. Then I went to the front desk and asked for another Doubletree cookie.

Today I finally got it. Yoga, although really weird, is an awesome routine. It's relaxing, challenging and fun. The class I went to at the gym I finally showed up at had nine women and a surprising six men. The music wasn't working so we worked without the soothing sounds of whatever it is they play during yoga. Instead, those who are yoga enthusiasts breathed in and out incredibly loud and set a perfect soundtrack for me struggling to follow the bizarre positions.

By the end of the class, after opening the energies of our hips and aligning our chakras, we were laying perfectly still on the mat just breathing in and out, in and out. And that, to me, is a perfect work out. Then I went home and ate some (more) Oreos.

Spot Me a Celebrity

2009-04-01T23:14:00.006-04:00

Of all full days of celebrity spotting that I have had in my life, today was the fullest. I knew going into the day that I was going to see Regis and Kelly, and that Michael J. Fox and Coris Leachman were going to be guests on their show. Diana Kroll also sang a song, making for a full morning of five celebrities.

What I couldn't have accounted for is my sister's pleading look as Kelly Ripa announced we could stay for the taping of Friday's show featuring Vin Diesel. I guess what actually won me over was the fact that Nick Lachey would be hosting instead of Regis. Nick's girlfriend Vanessa Milano leaned against the edge of the risers next to where I was sat bringing the total up to seven.

Leaving the show and heading to Billy Elliot we passed Mouhnana from Bravo's Make Me a SuperModel. I almost didn't realize it was her because she was wearing shiny leggings. I was so distracted by the leggings I didn't have time to see if the other two boys with her were also from the show. Celeb total: Eight.

I was pretty certain that would be the end of my paparazzi day when while looking through the program for West Side Story my sister pointed out that one of the leads was from Bravo's dance superstar show. It was the winner Cody, who was fantastic and also served in bring my total for the day all the way to nine.

And that was my average day in New York.

My Brother the Cockroach

2009-03-31T22:41:00.003-04:00

I'm in New York right now with my mum, sister and brother. We are preparing for a Regis and Kelly, Billy Elliot the Musical, and West Side Story day of Entertainment Shabang.

My brother and I ran out to get some vendor food. (Well, he got food, I ate it, he bought more.) We passed a cockroach the size of my right big toe and my brother crushed it without mercy. Then he made an odd comment. He said, "That's like a flashback to Australia." Qua? "There were tons of cockroaches in Australia."

I told him about my little anti-cockroach noise thing that I have in my apartment that makes a sound that only a nasty bug can hear. He said, "I CAN HEAR THOSE!"

Hmmm... Kinda makes you think.

Five Point Bulletin

2009-03-30T22:45:00.004-04:00

Here are the brief points that made my day fantastic.

1. I flew with a guy who I remember flying with before because I kept threatening to vomit on him. It was turbulent, he kept pointing my head in the opposite direction of his lap. Today was a lot more positive. Along with the other flight attendant we talked for the whole of both flights and blantently ignored our passangers. It was a great day at work.

2. Coming home I met a pilot named Yohan. Seriously people, his name is Yohan. That in and of itself is AWESOME! We are going to be friends. (Or so he thinks.)

3. I cooked a really good risotto and baked chicken. The boyfriend came over for dinner and now, I think, finally believes I can cook.

4. The boyfriend bought me awesome orange and yellow flowers. The second best part? I bought a flower vase today.

5. I ate an Oreo cookie. And not just any Oreo, but a double stuff Oreo. Cold from my fridge. And not just one. But four. Okay, fine. Five. They were delicious dipped in milk.

The summary: Good crew at work, Yohan, Risotto, flowers, Oreos. Yup. A great fantastic day.

Oil of Explosion 2009

2009-03-29T15:00:00.005-04:00

Kristy, my former roommate, when I told her about my new blog, asked me, "Oh great, is it going to be all about food?" Although I agree with you, it was a snarky question, she did have some validation in asking it. Food is one of my favorite things.

Alas, I have left my food reviews for Yelp. If you want to read about how I ate my date's birthday cupcake or got lost on the way to church and ended up worshiping at the Whole Foods in Tribecca, I would be happy to direct you towards those reviews. In this blog however, I attempt to not write too many times about the same topic, be it work, family, Tara's dating life or the boyfriend.

Sometimes it simply cannot be helped, if two nights ago was an Ode to Wine, and last night was a coffee explosion extravaganza, today is the Oil Of Explosion 2009. It's the time Laura attempted to make tempura without burning down her apartment or pissing off her landlord with the fragrant burnt oil smell permeating his home, all while making crisp green beans and not soggy ones. Yes, that was today, and as much as I'd rather share something deep and life changing, this is what I've got for you.

I did learn one thing. Aside from the fact that my mushroom, green bean and onion tempura pieces turned out delicious without a recipe, I learned the easiest way to set fire to an apartment, aside from with a toaster or with a broiler pan a brother once left in the broiler, ANYWAYS, the easiest way to set fire to an apartment is to have mushrooms close to burning on the stove while you are washing your hands.

In lou of drying said hands on towel hanging below the close to burning mushrooms, instead grab the tongs and attempt to flip said close to burning mushrooms and in the process drip water into the hot oil and watch the flare up from the now evaporating water hiss and splatter oil all over the stove and into the flames underneath the formerly close to burning mushrooms.

This, this seems to me to be a rather effective way to burn down an apartment. I know for a fact is also the best way to have a lingering oil haze hover for hours, and I learned that oil on the stove, walls, floor, clean towel and slippers is as much fun to clean as coffee grinds. And that dear friends is why you don't often hear from me on the subject of my own cooking.

Thank You Steve and Chrissy

2009-03-28T19:43:00.003-04:00

After a great dinner in the North End, the boyfriend and I decided to head back to his place for brownies, ice cream, honey bourbon sauce and Italian espresso.

The brownies were just out of the oven and the coffee was percolating in the new coffee pot the boyfriend's friends, Steve and Chrissy, has just given him. We had searched all day for the correct filter, only to find that the filter doesn't exist and instead a seal is needed. The correct seal was in place and all seemed to be in order as the boyfriend simmered up his bourbon sauce and I sat down to write my blog.

Moments later an explosion was heard. There may have been a few "Oh shit's!" as the coffee pot completely exploded and was laying on it's side. Coffee was EVERYWHERE. Every. Where. The door, the ceiling, the stove, the brownies, the boyfriend's face. Everywhere. I laughed of course.

As we spent our Saturday night cleaning up Coffee Explosion, I mentally typed up my new blog. "Dear Steve and Chrissy, Thank you for the new coffee pot. Because of your kind gift I spend my Saturday evening on my hands and knees sweeping up coffee grinds with a grouchy boyfriend who couldn't figure out why his new coffee maker exploded. Thank you dear Steve and Chrissy. Thank you."

An Ode to Blackberry Wine

2009-03-27T23:18:00.002-04:00

I've had the past couple of days off, which is not particularly unusual. But what makes it different is that I'm off AND at home. I've had time to paint another wall in my house brown and do some laundry and even cook.

Last night I made spaghetti and wanted some wine to go along with it. I didn't have any and was uninspired to walk to the liquor store. So today as my clothes spun in the washer, I trekked over to Kappy's Liquor store.

Kappy's smells as if an alcoholic vomited into a beer can and then left it to sit for awhile. But Kappy's also has an astoundingly disorganized assortment of liquor. I grab some Blackberry Sam Adams (DELICIOUS!) and some champagne in various sizes (MIMOSAS!) and then headed in the direction of the wine.

I found a blackberry wine that was so good I have decided to write a haiku.

Sweet as Kool Aid, wine
Blackberry merlot so good
The whole bottle gone

I didn't say it was a good haiku. Just REALLY good wine.

THE END.

Missed Connection Let Down

2009-03-27T01:08:00.006-04:00

So Tara, the friend I was perusing Craigslist for, is a friend that I really want to set up with a really nice guy. Frankly, I'll settle for... someone. Basically I'd take about anyone at this point, just to get her out on a date. Breathing? You'll do.

I've threatened to sign her up for Eharmony which she violently resisted. My next suggestion was Craigslist. Which also met with resistance. Until I wrote her an ad. It's a cute ad, sweet, funny and totally Tara. She loved it. But still wasn't sold on the idea of Craigslist.

I decided to put the ad up and set up a fake email address so I could screen some potential dates and then forward them to Tara. I told Tara about this idea, then could not decide on an email name and it never went any further then that.

Today I got a message from Tara. "Hey, what is that email you set up? I want to post a Missed Connection on Craigslist." !!!!! Tara? Is that you? What have you done with my anti-online friend?

I was ashamed to admit that I hadn't set up an account for her yet. I told her, "I was discouraged by your apparent lack of options." All this time had gone by and I could have been funneling good dates her way and instead I was too uncreative to even set up an email for her.

I felt like a bad friend. I was vindicated later when I was asked to be a bridesmaid in a wedding. It's not Tara's wedding (yet) but it did make me feel a little less bad and very honored. And Tara, I'll find you a coupon clipping, that appeals to my Jewish side, kind of guy... soon. As soon as I find you a good fake email name.

So There I Was...

2009-03-26T00:24:00.002-04:00

So there I was threatening the boyfriend, telling him I was going to start doing layovers on Tuesday nights because he didn't get Fox and I needed to watch American Idol.

So there I was, on the plane, sitting next to the weirdest couple who were dressed way too young for their age. They were both reading gossip magazines and every once and awhile they would show each other something written or a picture and, the whole time without saying a word, they would laugh or shrug or nod in agreement.

So there I was, after the long flight next to the odd couple, heading over to the boyfriend's house because he somehow managed to get Fox. American Idol was already on and he filled me in on who I missed and how they did.

So there I was, after American Idol heading home. It was late and I was getting hungry. I bought a frozen pizza and devoured half of it at 11:30 PM.

So there I was, 11:30 PM, eating pizza, bemoaning the fact that I had been paying for a gym membership and had yet to show up to transfer it into my name, and swimsuit shopping.

So there I was. Mess. Hot mess...