a new map

 

so remember that last post, when i mentioned missing people and wanting to talk about it, then i never did? i'm going to do it now.

it's not even missing people so much as wishing there were fewer places. the people i love are scattered right now. i love people in philadelphia, new york, harrisburg, pittsburgh, baltimore, texas, indiana PA, georgia, new jersey, california, ohio, australia - all over. and i want to see them all, all the time. and i can't.  and it makes my heart physically hurt. there just aren't enough weekends to see everyone. we're all so busy and doing stuff and trying to appreciate where we are - i'm trying to make philadelphia my place and be a part of the city. but it's hard when i don't feel like a whole person - i'm a combination of all my people and they're all over the place. i'm sure there's a way to cope with this. people go on living without being in the presence of everyone they love all the time. but i'm not there yet. right now, i just want to pick up all the pieces, all the cities my friends live in and squash them all together on the map. maybe in some space in the ocean. so no one has to give up their city, but no one has to be apart either. who can i talk to about this map squashing business?

let's talk about the disparity here

 

let's just get this out of the way - the pictures accompanying each of my posts have less and less to do with the actual content of the post. yesterdays was pretty good, but today? today i have a picture of my lunch in my super cool new grownup bento lunchbox, but i want to write about missing people. the things i want to share with you are no longer just memories or detailed accounts of meals and events, but things going on in my noggin. and i don't have the technology/it doesn't exist/if it did it would be too expensive for me to take a picture of the inside of my brain. i keep taking pictures of wonderful, bright, good things in my life while thinking about a million sentimental and sad things. my pictures are like a box of 8 crayons and my thoughts are the big 64 crayon box with a built in sharpener. so many things are going on up there. if you don't want to hear about it, just look at the pictures. food! colors! good looking people! i wouldn't blame you!

the journey to the underdog fist: it continues

 

underdogs nine and ten. the party train keeps on rolling. we finished off our company menu and it's back to being just fornwald and i. two lonely soldiers on the road to hot dog fame. some weeks, thursday rolls around and i find myself in the mood for something light and refreshing. maybe a salad with a citrus dressing. some arugula. whatever. but alas, i have a responsibility to the people. and by people, i mean myself. GOALS. gotta have them.

on edge

 

i have a full bed. not some rinky dink little baby bed. not some single-serve dorm bed. it's a big kid bed that i could feasibly stretch out in, lie diagonal across, or splay my body starfish-style across.

but i don't.

i sleep on the edge of my bed, on one specific side, every night. i'm sure the mattress is way more worn down on this one side as a result. i should at least alternate which side i'm sleeping on. but i don't.

what's the point of sleeping on just one side of the bed, when i have a whole big mattress to roll around on? is it because i'm worried about getting comfortable, getting used to sleeping on a full bed all by myself, only to, in the future, downgrade bed size? or have to start sharing my bed with someone? is it better to just never know the luxary of enjoying a full bed by oneself?

do you take up all the space? or occupy a corner? let's talk sleep habits.

twenty two

 

i've been acting a fool recently.

late nights, open bars, and a big ol' mouth have lead me into situations that i'm embarrassed to think about the next day.

what's even worse than acting like a fool? dwelling on it for days after. turning it all over in your head until you believe it's way worse than you originally even anticipated. telling yourself that you should know better, that you're supposed to be more mature than that, more classy and composed.

but honestly? i don't know if that's true. it's probably true that i shouldn't split a bottle of wine with a friend before hitting a four hour open bar, or that i should at least pour the wine into a glass instead of swigging it straight out of the bottle. but i'm only twenty two. i just got out of college. i'm still in that mode. i have no dependents. no car payments or mortgage. i'm in this weird limbo where i have a steady paycheck but no homework and that frequently leads to happy hour. which leads to karaoke. which leads to embarrassing dancing.

point is: i need to take ten deep breaths, remind myself i'm only twenty two and don't need to have everything figured out, and never order whiskey sours again. 

sometimes

 

 you open up your crisper and find a stack of cds. get out of there cds. you don't belong there. you belong in cars. or 2007.

camp

 

things i learned at camp this summer: 

 1. my family loves chips. more than anyone else on the planet. they love chips more than the inventor of chips. more than chips' own mother. 

2. my family also love sandwiches. and for damn good reason. sandwiches are king. 

3. paddling a canoe ten miles means rewarding yourself with ten beers. 

4. i am the worst corn hole player. 

5. i am the best corn hole cheerleader. 

6. my aunts are hilarious. though i already knew this one. 

7. everything is funnier when you say it in bane's voice. (bane. you know. from dark knight rises? if you don't know, stop blogging and go educate yourself.)

8. campfire smell doesn't leave your head until three washes later. 

9. that baby, baby nick, is the king of the babies. unstoppable. 

last days of summer

 

the last days of summer look a lot like this. fresh veggies. specifically from my aunt's garden. riding bikes. specifically with my giant baby brother on my old roommate's tiny bike. drinking wine in the park. specifically spodee, an 18% red wine mixed with moonshine that leaves a tootsie roll after taste and comes in an old milk bottle. 

i'm ready to usher the first days of summer in though. pumpkin flavored things. specifically pumpkin and spinach mac'n'cheese. riding bikes. specifically in pants, while not sweating profusely. drinking wine in the park. specifically in boots and jackets and under wool blankets. maybe we'll even upgrade to mulled cider. 

oh seasons. you never cease to amaze me. i need all four of you in my life, forever.

conspiracy theory

 

 i had a thought today as i was lugging a giant grocery bag, purse, and a carton of milk from trader joes, eight blocks back to my office. i was balancing the bag on my hip, holding the milk with two fingers, purse slung over my shoulder and eating a coconut chocolate chip clif bar (these are supposed to be good for you right? please tell me they are. i've convinced myself that because the packaging looks brown and earthy and there's a little climbing man on the side, they're some kind of superfood. don't burst my bubble.) - as this is going on, it occurs to me: 

do women carry purses as some societally imposed practice for carrying children? 

yesterday on the subway, my boyfriend volunteered to carry my overnight bag in addition to his own backpack. i completely appreciate his generousity, but he did grumble a bit about the cumbersome task and seemed baffled as to how to get through the turnstyle. but ladies? ladies be carrying mad bags all the time. pretty much always at least one.

this post could go a whole other direction at this point -  about the things women carry in their purses and why we feel we must carry them and how many of them are present because of some societally imposed standard of beauty. but that's a horse of a different color. and we will gallop on him some other time. 

back to the central thesis - is this prep work for lugging around chubby babies? i balanced that grocery bag on my hip like a pro and still managed to eat that clif bar in record time while booking it back to my office in seven minutes flat. i can feel my arm muscles bulking up. i can feel my hips finding their natural calling. and should i remain childless in the future, at least i will have a crazy ripped bod. and maybe i'll be able to carry TWO TRADER JOE bags! bold, forward thinking!

(this picture is of a picture at the eastern state penitentiary. the caption said they have no clue what that guy is doing. it's just lost in history. it's pretty amazing.) 

caillou and wings

 

i work for this man. sometimes. in a way. i spend a good deal of time with him in the least. he's kind of a whiney baby most of the time and his lack of hair is troubling but his animated dad is kind of cute. is that strange? 

i recently remembered that i didn't eat pizza as a kid. i was just not a fan. i rejected the personal pizza's given as prizes for book-it in favor of the oily salad bar. i was not jazzed up about pizza fridays. and at birthday parties, i had my own special meal. i was not a picky eater by any stretch of the imagination - it was only in dealing with pizza. and i almost treated it like a food allergy - i could have technically eaten the pizza but everyone made special arrangements for me to have something else. 

 'something else' was frequently chicken wings. at my best friend's birthday party in fifth grade (a pool party at the holiday inn) i got a massive plate of wings all to myself, complete with bleu cheese. i was eleven and in sweet-ass tankini, chilling by an indoor pool, taking in the intoxicating scent of chlorine and scarfing down an entire plate of wings. i was beyond caring about the sauce on my face, so i probably looked crazy, but i was in the zone. that was total bliss.

i can't believe i almost forgot about such a perfect moment.

 

my friend jon died a few weeks ago. it was really sudden and unexpected and late on a tuesday night and i had literally just seen him - he left my house around 10:30 and it didn't feel like a real thing or even a real possibility and it still doesn't, but it is. it was sad and is sad and will probably always be sad. it has made time seem nonexistant. like it was a long stick of hard candy, moving smoothly through the future and now it's smashed and i can't believe it was ever there.

when we found out, we all drove to his hometown in jersey. we all wanted to be together as if being together, in one place, in one room, ensured that no one else could go anywhere. we called other friends, more auxiliary members of our group, fringe folks, and told them the news. because what if they didn't find out and a month down the road at a party they asked about him? and also because i think we all needed to say it and say it calmly, as informers to solidify it in our own minds. to make it more of a fact and less of a terrible floating idea that was stuck in our throats. 

a lot of the time i felt neutral. felt like it didn't even happen or like maybe i was just watching it on tv or as a movie. but then it would hit me and i would cry a lot. or i would see someone else i love crying and get upset. i learned that none of my friends are pretty criers. we are all some loud and ugly sad people.

there were also a lot of very funny parts of the experience. things that jon would have thought were hilarious and written sketches about him. things like pubescent boy scouts and lisping priests who mispronounce names and facebook posts with lyrics quoted. jon was a funny guy and it was so appropriate to laugh during everything. 

i might post more on this later. i don't think it's a topic that i'll ever really be over. because it's not really a topic so much as a person.

am i missing something?

 

am i missing something here? like a longer manual to my i-phone? the one i got is only like four pages long and as much as i appreciate the minimalist look, it's not exactly what i find most desirable in a booklet that's supposed to tell me how to work a futuristic handheld space computer communicator. siri just turns on at random and picks up on the conversations inside my purse and then when i pull out my phone, gems like this one show up. i swear to you, good people of the internet, that i never said that. even though that sounds like an awesome jingle. i am not one to sit around on my phone listening to jingles. i don't know who that would apply to. uncle joey and uncle jessie maybe. those are the only jingle-men i know.

additionally, while we are waving our dirty pants out the awkward express eastbound to whaddafugggg land, because we spilled hot sauce on the crotch and had to wash them in the sink but the blue soap is also staining and now we're pants-less on public transportation - let's talk about shirt buttons.

i have grown some boobs recently-ish. maybe they were there before, but it's just been in the past six months that i've noticed them. this should not come as a shock to anyone, since i'm a woman but for some reason, they're still new enough to me that i forget about them. not usually an issue except when it comes to shirts.

i like me a button down, but boobs seem to disagree. i buy a shirt, put it on, button it up and boobs yell NOOOOOOO! GET US OUT OF HERE! WE BE BUSTIN' FREEEEE! they create this gap that makes me look like an extra in a britney spears music video. but my love for button downs outweighs the cries of boobs, so i continue to wear them.

and i continue to be paranoid about the gap. and the potential for other people to peep my cleavage. the pervs. this is not for you! this is a result of poor design! or my lack of knowledge about sizing!

and then i find myself checking on the gap all day, just to make sure the window to the valley of the boobs isn't exposed to the public.

and at the end of the day, i can't be sure how many people have checked out the boobs, but i know i've kept my eyes on them all day. this shirt has caused me to stare at my own cleavage all day. ironic, right?

do you like buttons? boobs? gaping shirts?

birthday thyme

 

three things that make my aunt karen's birthday special:

1. it's my aunt karen. the wonderful aunt with the beautiful cats who always bought us books for christmas and took us to volunteer at the cat shelter. she had the cats soundtrack and a huge, high bed with brass detailing. she took me to london when i was 15 and we had a jolly good time. she's been all over the world and has exposed brick in her house - i think we all aspire to a life like that.
2. it's also my half birthday. i like this connection.
3. IT'S THE BEST DINNER IN THE WORLD. there is a set dinner for aunt karen's birthday and it is only created once a year, like thanksgiving. it consists of stuffed flank steak, twice baked potatoes, butterhorn rolls, some vegetable, and devil's delight for dessert. it is worth driving four hours in one day to enjoy this dinner. it blows my mind with it's amazingness. and it is absolutely fitting that it only be served on the birthday of an amazing lady.

question for the audience: what's your birthday meal? death row meal? most eaten meal? 

GI Mikey Y

 

this is a picture of my main squeeze, dj mikey y. his philosophy on hair cuts deals in extremes - let it get so long you can't stand it, then buzz it all off. never a trim. it's all or nothing. so sometimes, when he comes to visit for a weekend, he shows up looking like he just finished basic training.

 my old roommate beth left me her bike when she moved to texas which is a friggin blessing. mike yaz rode it into the city with me and we got ice cream and saw a comedy show. on the way home though, it was raining, and i'm not cool with leaving bikes somewhere foreign overnight so i told him we would have to muddle through. mike yaz was down but under one condition - he wanted to ride with his shirt off. something about not getting it wet? whatever.

so we trekked home in the rain, mike yaz with his shaved head & no shirt, looking like something out of a training montage. i kept yelling things at him like "you can be a champion but only if you feel like a champion." or "do it for sarah. do it for me. do it for yourself." and "come on! push!" things that a solid coach with a hurt past but still some glimmer of hope might say to their new protege.

do you have a strange but wonderful boyfriend? do you shave your head and ride around shirtless? have you ever been in a montage? 

sensitive diner

 

 i have recently discovered that nothing makes me more heartbroken and upset than discovering that a menu item i wanted is no longer available. something about selecting an item and building it up in my mind to a point where my mouth is already watering and i'm rereading the description over and over again, confirming that i have indeed made the best possible choice.

and then the waitress shows up. and i proudly tell her what i would like to order, hoping she will be impressed with my selection, a selection she knows is the best the menu has to offer. and i wait for her to applaud me and then -

her face falls. it twists into an expression of pity, similar to what you might offer an over enthusiastic child when you have to tell him the camping trip is cancelled.

she is sorry to report, but they are out of the (donut nutella muffins) (eggs florentine) (red jello). would you like to make another selection?

this news is so devestating that i'm never quite sure how to handle it. in a shocked voice, i quickly reply, "no. no thank you."

"nothing at all? we have a great cheesey skillet."

"no. nothing at all."

because i have formed such a mental bond with that menu item - that unavailable menu item - that to order anything else would seem treason. the widow going home with her deceased lover's brother. i won't dishonor what we had like that. your memory will live on (donut nutella muffins) (eggs florentine) (red jello).

after the initial shock, i feel slightly embarrassed. of course they're out of (donut nutella muffins) (eggs florentine) (red jello). that was the best thing! the waitress is not impressed with my selection; she pities me for even picking it - the most obvious, most popular menu option.

and that is how my breakfasts/brunch/dinners are ruined.

maybe i will learn to cope better when i'm 23.

underdog update

 

feast your eyes on hot dogs five, six, seven, and eight. we are moving right along in the underdog challenge. 8 down, 15 to go. still on track to finish at christmas. fame and fortune will surely be ours. in the form of a painted fist on a wall in philadelphia.

a promise

 

 if you hurt me or anyone i love, i will put this in your bed. and you will not like it.

the journey to nu hempstar: part c

 

then we went out! on the town! specifically, a beach town. chrissy took us to a trashy beach bar but made the mistake of walking me past the arcade on our way in. as soon as i saw those neon lights i was itching to get my skeeball on. we stuck around for one drink and got hit on by some creepy dudes before we decided to bounce and hit up the arcade. score one for caitlin.

we all got our skee ball on and set our sights on a prize - the harmonica. i went back to inform the posse that we were still short fifty tickets and some young man in a suit (what?) came up and gave me all his tickets. it was just like an episode of touched by an angel. i almost wept on the spot. we got our harmonica and beth said it sucked because it only played three notes and you couldn't breathe in the make a sound but she is a hater and i recognized the magic of the harmonica that was made possible by the kindness of strangers.

then we got photobooth pictures!

then we went to a bar that looked like somewhere freddy prinze jr. frequented in 1999 - low ceilings, all white, with blue ocean-y lights everywhere. their clinetele was all over 40 divorcees but they had a swinging band and we got smoking patron shots. bliss bliss bliss.

the next morning was full of brunch and good byes, followed by another crazy long car ride. but it was a beautiful beautiful weekend in the most summery fantasyland of all time, the ever lovely, new hampshire.

the journey to knew hamper: part dos

 

DEAR SWEET GRAVY BEANS. there are so many pictures from this one weekend! looks like someone can't be trusted with an i-phone, ammiright?!

after the beach, we all took turns taking showers (one bathroom, ten buddies, tons of prep time) and getting ready for dinner and sitting around in christine's gorgeous backyard. she lives on a tiny back road and has a total backyard fantasy working behind her already adorable home. there's a hammock, a barn, a garden, a fort, a firepit - the works. seriously ideal. i was cruising around in bathing suit bottoms and a t-shirt feeling like a billion bucks. if heaven is in new england, i'm pretty sure it's at christine's house.

after we were all ready, we put on red lipstick. then we were really all ready.

drove to portsmouth and had dinner at the friendly toast. oh man. serious food coma. they pushed two tables together and we all sat around like a giant family dinner. highlight: christine got pbr in a bottle! crazy pants!

PART THREE IS ON THE WAYYYY! HOLD ONTO YOUR HORSES!

the journey to new hamster: part one

 

we went to new hampshire ya'll.

former roommate and dear friend, chris fish, was living there for the summer with her parents in the most adorable home surrounded my all of gods green earth. the EIGHT HOUR DRIVE (capitalized, because it should have been six hours, but connecticut hates us) was full of mix cds, frustration over the people crossword puzzle, cheesey party mix, and delirious conversations. but upon arrival we were greeted by the rest of our posse and fireworks and solo cups full of rum and ginger beer.

all ten of us slept in the house like some sweet ass camp. the next day we ate salty bagels and went to a class england beach with some wes anderson-y name like 'little plum island' or something. the sand was chunky and the water was cold and somehow we all magically had black bathing suits on (though veronica was quick to point out that hers is actually navy - typical new england shit). this baby fell asleep on the beach as expected and got sunburn all up on my lower back, also as expected.

PART TWO ON IT'S WAYYYYY.

 

are you looking for a way to be an even lazier snacker? attempting to enjoy all your favorite snacks in one mouthful?

MAKE THESE RIDICULOUS TRASH COOKIES. 

i have made them three times now and no one has ever complained. people at least like them because of the novelty factor. you basically just throw everything in your cabinets into cookie dough and pretend like it's a real thing. then you eat a third of the batter, half of the completed cookies, and offer the remaining five to your friends like you made them special or something. BLAM.

the august hiatus

 

 legit bloggers take a break right? like once a year, in the summer, they put up some post explaining that they aren't going to post for the rest of the month and they're just going to go sleep or paint neon things on canvas tote bags or play with their floppy haired babies while eating arugula. you know how they do that?

now that we're all on the same page - can i just blame my absence on that? is that acceptable? i know i didn't put up a picture of a dog in a vase with heidi braids and say a formal 'tttfn darlings!', but could you guys just be good sports and go along with it so i don't feel like a bum for farting out two weeks in a row? thanks pals.

also: a picture of my bike basket. full of purse and snacks and booze.