i moved 8 times as a ms. not as much as mr c has moved but certainly more than a lot of people i know. but i liked to move.…kind of how i like the instant when you are sitting on a plane, on your way to some cool new destination of your choosing and you feel the wheels depart solid ground as your plane soars off towards untold adventures. i love that instant. i loved that instant more before a pilot i was sitting next to told me that is also the most dangerous moment of any flight. quite fitting. but i digress.
let’s just call those "good change tummy butterflies". now i stand poised on the precipice of my 9th move…this time as a mrs. but this time, the butterflies are more manic hamsters chasing rings around my stomach on their way up my esophagus whereupon they will fly out my mouth and explode into a million little mini hamster chunks....
what the hell is going on...
i used to embrace all change. now....manic hamsters...???
well..... first and perhaps most obvious…it’s philly.
enough said??
ok, not actually philly….glorious, main line, rosemont but still….philly-esque. and i can’t help it but just the abbreviation "philly" brings to mind images of some hair pie man in jorts, gold chain, a little cheese steak wiz remnants on the corner of his stash, black tennis shoes with no socks and an eagles t-shirt with the arms cut off. oh and a fanny pack. phillies never leave home without their trusted fanny packs (see? see the guy in the bottom right...that is cheese steak man!!). at least in the winter they are covered up...but then they still get to carry signs, like the one above. arg.
so wrong and judgemental!! i am terrible and yes i know payback is a bitch and cheese streak man will likely be our neighbor now...or hell, better yet, our landlord... but there it is.
sometimes, when the winds of change begin to rustle, we're not certain the change is for the better.
good news is...today helped. today i went from contemplation to preparation. positive forward change steps. it's official....we signed a lease.
cutest little house in philly/rosemont...hell cutest lil house in all pa.
ok all snarkiness aside.....truth be told, now that i know we have a place to live, i've started to mentally move in and get a little pumped. just mr c and i. new towns to explore, an adorable 125 year old gingerbread, doll house-house to fix up, a place for our fish and como, music, restaurants....you know cool stuff.
and when isn't change good??
shhhhh don't tell but....here come the p-schmidts and.....i think we might just like it.
life has been a bit crazy of late and i had the best of intentions to get this post up oh....on say fathers day... but here it is tuesday and i am just now getting my s together. anywhoo...dad and mum came over for a yummy fathers day brunch sunday complete with
fresh bellinis, lemon polenta mollycoddled eggs and ginger muffins with a lemon curd...
we ate our fill and whiled away the afternoon like old times.
here is to the best dad a girl could ask for. thanks for....
everything....
love your # 1 main squeeze in the whole "wise" world
when does one actually become an adult? does the arrival of aunty flow hearken adulthood? your sweet 16? drivers permit? college acceptance? post 21st b-day hangover? first job? first apartment? first solo transatlantic flight. first big f-up your parents didn’t bail you out of? breakups? car payments? how about the transition from ms to mrs??
christians think this magical transformation happens when a child is "old enough to understand the moral consequences of his or her actions and can be held accountable for sins". but dear blogzies, i did a little research and the age of this miraculous transformation is serious fodder for debate. in their infinite wisdom catholics say the magic happens at 7. christians, oh around 12. mrs m thinks... solidly in the mid 30 range for the entire male population, with perhaps a slight variance for women.
so when is it and more importantly why do we all rush towards it?? let's face it, being an adult isn't all it's cracked up to be. you're pushed from all sides....bills, crazy ex's, jobs, responsibilities, other little lives depending on you for survival...sucking your breasts till they are withered avocado shadows of their former selves, highs and lows, moves and no moves and over flowing in-boxes. it's a bitch really. sure we get to drink without hiding it, we can buy a vespa if we want, and we can vent through blogs but.....
kids get to have tempertantrums
come on...those are pretty great. all you moms out in cyber world are rolling your eyes thinking,"just little ms m wait till she has her own screaming, snotty, sponge bob hurling two year old and then ask her again what she thinks about tantrums"...and i say bring it. think about how free you'd feel if, after a day when all goes terribly sideways....it were in fact ok to lay down on the floor and just let that shit fly. get into it. kick your legs, pummel your pregnancy lumbar pillow, and just cry it out. now i'm not saying this be an every day occurrence but done in moderation when necessary and i bet you'd be a happier, less medicated, jersey housewives watching mom. down with zanex! you let the men do it and they might be better mr.'s. bye bye to the beer! i know i'd be a better mrs....but i'm still keeping my vino and fig newtons.
but we're supposed to be all adult and responsible....blah, blah, blah.
one of the greatest things about growing up in my household (besides getting the bouncy horse of my dreams)were the unbelievably, creative, festive and unique dinners and special holidays my mom whipped up with true mom aplomb and cheer. i think she went to extra lengths to spice up life because it was just the three of us and well…it worked.
from the time i was little her parties have been a scream.
easters and thanksgivings, valentines and birthdays…each one is a lovely memory etched in my mind with a special sandi sparkle. hidden baskets filled with my favorite treats and swoon worthy brunches, delectable feasts, heart shaped pancakes and christmases complete with roaring fires and the tantalizing aromas of pine and orange. top this off with nights she tip-toed down stairs to talk over a glass of milk and a cookie and all the laughter and hugs and believe me….i know i am one lucky girl.
mom (and of course dad too ;) has moved me into countless apartments and spent additional countless hours scrubbing out refrigerators, unpacking boxes, hanging pictures and helping feather my nest. they say the devil is in the details….well so is the love.
tomorrow my mom and her friend linda will host their first tablescaping and entertaining event at dolce in richmond http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Richmond-VA/Dolce-Designs/119987878019203?ref=ts&ajaxpipe=1&__a=9 and i am so proud of her!! perhaps to some dinners and holidays are just “other days” that come and go but my mom creates events and events create memories and at the end of the day…arn't fabulous, loved filled memories all we’re really left with?
so i was a bit slack about posting over the weekend but it was hot, really hot...and then mr c reminded me the world cup was kicking off and i'm feeling a bit more motivated now....
yep today....the world cup makes me happy
all that love for your brethren.....
all that enthusiasm for ones country
nations of the world speaking out
players handling themselves with poise and grace
so today get your patriotism on and celebrate this beautiful sport
when i was a ms i didn’t think too much about my bed. sure i wanted an ultra suede tufted headboard and 1000 thread count frette linens with a tasteful amount of throw pillows…but really my bed was just a location. it was a cozy place to crash, a great cushion on which to curl up and read a book, a spot that cradled me when i was sick. but as a mrs, our bed has literally taken on a personality all its own. as a mrs, our bed has become a haven, an oasis, the switzerland of married-land, a pandora bed world of sorts.
mr c and i were watched a movie the other night called “away from her”.
away from her is a moving love story about a man coping with the institutionalization of his wife because of alzheimer's and there is this scene where the camera pans down on this husband and wife lying in bed together on the eve before she leaves and i don’t know why but something about the rumpled sheets... and their two bodies exposed and vulnerable....struck me. the profound intimacy and shared history of two lives boiled down to that moment....encapsulated in and framed by that safety bubble of a bed...it made me a little sniffly. i looked over at mr c and he was a little sniffly too.
so it got me thinking about this place we take for granted. sure we sleep there and we dream there and yes, we playcreate there but the bed is more than that...the bed is this amazing place where we become...defenseless. it's the place where you truly are....who you are.
you are totally you when you slide into bed at night and share a hope or a fear with the person beside you. you are most you when you are makeup less and sick and too weak to go get yourself gatorade. you are you on the most primal level when you are asleep all naked and slack jawed and drooling on your pillow. and you are you when you wake up next to that other naked, slack jawed, drooling human and think they are the most precious thing on the entire planet.
i dream of mr c and i in this room
i flat out love getting into bed with mr c. i love falling asleep on his chest. i love rumi sundays when he reads me poetry in bed. i love waking up and watching him sleep...
because there in that room, in that bed.....he is who he is. i am who i am and our bed...
well, our bed just is.
i don’t know about you guys...but breakfast is getting old. coffee, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, yogurt….more coffee and the occasional bowl of cereal. repeat. boo hoo. i know, huge problems…. but mr c and i are in a breakfast rut. so for bon vivant tuesday i mixed it up a bit and made a jasmine honey lassi smoothie. i added flax seeds for a little omega 3 action and b/c i like the nutty flavor and i'm slacker so i used canned peaches. my only recommendation is add more ice as 4-6 cubes is more chilled soup than smoothie. other than that…quite yummy and light.
thumbs up lassi...
• 3 tbsp raw honey
• 1/2 cup warm strong-brewed jasmine tea
• 1 1/2 cups diced peaches
• 3/4 cup low-fat greek yogurt
• 4 to 6 ice cubes
• dissolve the honey in the warm tea. refrigerate until chilled. combine the sweetened tea, peaches, yogurt, and ice in a blender. blend until smooth.
oh and why not say one sweet thing to 5 people today.
you're cute & you smell good too (2 down, 3 to go)
~ mrs m
now I realize my monday statement is neither profound nor altruistic. not like starting off the week with something soul-solid like say….today serving up food to the homeless would make me happy. or… nothing makes me happier than holding crack babies…..
sorry. today it’s shoes.
why…because i spent the weekend feeling like a fat little stuffed tick and i need a fix. because these shoes do not know nor do they care that i spent the weekend feeling something akin to the blob. these shoes just scream you are one sexy biaaaaatch. yep… to you men out there, that is the power of a hot shoe. that statement might frighten you. that statement might baffle you…but if it’s that kind-o shoe and it makes your woman feel yummy…i think you might just start to understand…..
this little shoe went to market
this little shoe stayed home (naughty shoe)
this little shoe went dancing
then all the sexy shoes went wee-wee-wee back to their cool cabinet home.
yesterday morning i work up and felt a little like this…
no particular reason other than i hadn’t pooped in about 4 days. kind of a crappy story, so I won’t bore you. get it…. crappy. har, har. snort.
anwhooo. i wasn’t feeling too spiritual on my sunday. so in light of my decidedly non spiritual vibe and my ongoing poo issues i’m late on my post. yep, yesterday i didn't even attempt to find my spirit…instead today, i am going to share the greatest poo blog of all times and hope that by embracing my phobia/neurosis of restroom related activities...i might make friends with it and all will eventually be well in poodome.
from my favorite petunia http://petuniafacedgirl.blogspot.com/2008/09/open-letter-to-lady-with-turquoise.html . one thing though petunia face….as offensive as your coworkers lack of b-room etiquiutte is don’t be so damn cute and assume you corner the market on office stall faux pas….in my office we have our own version of the turquoise sandal lady except ours wears shoes that squeak when she walks and she talks to herself in the stall.
so it's friday. a hot summer friday and we have summer hours...so i'm free at 3. f-yeah.
todays far flung...the cottages at cabot cove in kennebunkport, maine http://www.cabotcovecottages.com/. i fell ass-over-elbows for these cottages when i saw them showcased in coastal living mag back in 2006...and i have loved them ever since. in fact, when mr c and i started planning our wedding, this was one of the places we researched. each of the 16 cottages were decorated by different interior designers, so no two are the same and they are all uniquely charming in a lime green hobbit meets martha stewart kind-o-way. and at just 267 sq feet mr c is always a short booty tap away.
imagine....after a day strolling through town (me in a really cute nautical-esque ((but not nauseatingly overblown nautical of course)) sundress and mc c in plaid shorts and a handsome button down with say, a jaunty sailboat on the pocket), eating lobster and perhaps a little evening sail, i see us reclining in adirondacks on our petite, private patio, a crisp, white wine in our hands, a picnic of overpriced french cheese and fruit before us and a little color in our cheeks. oh mon amour...
it's an old epistemological debate, you know the one about the tree in the forest. and lots of philosophical heavy weights have weighed in on this one. ole plato gave it initial air time in athens around 348 bc and for two millennia afterward scholars have asked the question, “what is beauty?” is it a measurable fact (leibniz), or merely an opinion (hume), or is it a little of each, colored by the immediate state of mind of the observer (kant)?
when I lived in chicago, the very trip to work itself was a feast for the senses…if you paid attention. the bus with its interesting mix of aromas, vendors giving away samples of vitamin water, orbitz gum, granola bars or whatever new item they were being paid to peddle, a flock of geese honking their way through the air, the lazy river snaking it’s way though the city, the architectural elements on buildings, the other 8 million wacky, freaky people walking by. i remember trying to be as aware of the energy as i could… but there were many days i failed. there were countless mornings i hurried to work, head down, ear phones on, eyes averted. on those days…what did i miss? an oprah sighting, the slightly scary man who gave "free hugs", a near miss with a speeding taxi…life?
“In washington , dc , at a metro station, on a cold january morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six bach pieces for about 45 minutes. during that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. the musician played continuously. only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. about 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. the man collected a total of $32.
no one knew it, but the fiddler standing against a bare wall outside the metro at the top of the escalators was one of the finest classical musicians in the world joshua bell, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made. two days before, joshua bell sold-out a theater in boston where seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
this is a true story. his performance was arranged by the washington post as an experiment in context, perception and priorities -- as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste:
“in a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?”
this story blew me away. one of the best musicians in the world playing on a $3.5 million dollar stradivari and no one really stopped.
kant argued that one's ability to appreciate beauty is related to one's ability to make moral judgments. but there was a caveat. kant felt that to properly appreciate beauty, the viewing conditions must be optimal. optimal, it can be argued, doesn't mean walking to work in the cold, focusing on getting your kid to daycare and annoyed that your pants are too tight.
so let's say kant is right. can we look at what happened on january 12 and make a judgment about their ability to appreciate life?
i say, hell yeah we can. we've made ourselves into busy people. we created a culture driven, to the exclusion of everything else, by hard work and the accumulation of wealth. and in most cases, we have lost our appreciation for beauty. not because we can’t understand it…because it has become irrelevant…and because we are silly self important humans. europeans think we are nutz, mocking our inability to even take 3 short minutes to sit and enjoy our grande, red eye, double vanilla, skim, latte….and while i too am sadly a latte-on-the-go drinker, i couldn’t agree more.
so my musings for today are these….
• can something exist without being perceived? in a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
• if so, do we stop to appreciate it?
• do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
“the poet billy collins once laughingly observed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the lub-dub of the mother's heart is in iambic meter. then, collins said, life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us. “
auf wiedersehen spring. hasta luego may. hellllooooo summer…hello margaritas and bikinis and languid, late night walks. hello, long days of sunlight, gauzy, barely there sun dresses and wearing my hair in kitschy braids. hello too much caffeine, a 4 hour car ride + me, a new iphone and video capabilities….hello slightly scary memorial road trip video 2010.
after a beautiful saturday sailing in deltaville, mr c and I headed to nc for his nephews high school graduation and a day of play with the 8 kiddos (no, not a typo).
and while i do not yet hear the tickiy tock sounds of any clocks …i love feeling free to act like a kid myself when i am around them…. yes, i am that "aunt". take them when they are good...hand them over when they crop dust in Kroger. ahh, maturity… or smarts I suppose…depending on how one looks at it. anyhooo, i love to read bedtime stories, and have little ones yank my hair into brightly, rubber banded, off-center pony tails, i love the games and the different perspective of the world that 8 intelligent, blissfully innocent minds revel to me. i loved it when julie (4) put on her tiny hot pink goggles, smiled that cheeky, princess smile and wanted to swim to me and back to the steps about 3,167 times. she’d stand there, take a deep gulp of air and jump, kicking towards my outstretched hands, trusting me to pull her to safety and give her oodles of hugs and praise. as wonderfully different as all 8 kids are…there was one distinct commonality surrounding this particular visit ….they were all infused with the impending freedom of summer. from 8 to 18 …they all had that glow that comes with knowing you have 3 long, delicious, carefree, barefoot, tree-climbing, popsicle licking, camp filled months ahead to do……whatever you’re little heart desires.
and this will be me this summer.....
being a grown up sucks
but tonight while all the kiddos out there have cold wennies and beans for the third time this week, infused with joy and glory summer plans....i'll have a margarita for dinner. just because i can. a chili infused margarita. ha! take that!
so for those who have no idea where to find chili infused tequila, some tequila brands offer one, but anyone can do that...i recommend infusing your own. simple version involves cutting up 2 dried habanero peppers, (don’t chop too small or you’ll have people drinking minced chili ), and putting them into the tequila bottle. allow 1-2 days for the chili to infuse the tequila. when your tequila is properly infused:
• shot of tequila
• shot triple sec or cointreau
• juice of 2 limes
• sugar (to taste)
garnish with a red chili for effect, sit back, enjoy and be glad that even though you don’t get summer break…you also don’t have to deal with the zits and drama that come along with it.
