a call to the women of provo.

i need your help.

my hair has gone through a growth spurt of sorts. and i need someone to cut it immediately.

just to thin it out really. and i'm short on funds.

so tell me. where do i go?

POST EDIT: you ladies are the best. i have found a hairdresser and i am so excited, as are my dead ends! will be sure to let you know how it goes.

over and up.

i'm sitting her looking out at the mountains. from where i sit at my borrowed, wooden desk they eclipse my window completely. and in turn swallow me whole.

these are the mountains facing east. new york lies beyond them. and believe me when i say, that metaphor is not lost on me.

there was never any doubt about this. this little expedition i'm on. there were concerns and moments of terror, yes. but that divinely-inspired voice that lives right there in my gut was very clear. go, it said. go, and life will unfold, you'll see. trust me, it ever so calmly pressed into me. wrapped me in its message.

and so here i am.

but even with God's blessing or goodwill or what have you, i wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and wake up three months from now. i longed to nod my head once and with the genie's blink become the person i'd been promised at the end of all this.

i just didn't want to have to do the necessary work to get there.

but the mountains, of course. and their all powerful metaphor. a gigantic mountain range between me and the life i once lived. or the life i will live. or the life i dream of living.

this eruption of green plopped right there. right in front of me.

when i was little we'd take road trips through the western united states. and my mom would always say, imagine how the pioneers did it. how did they do it?

and the thing is i sure as hell don't know. those covered wagons. entire families in tow. rocky terrain. leaving behind all that is known, not only heading toward a new future, but carving out a never before seen path along the way. can you even imagine? the courage of it. startling.

the only way over the mountain before me is up. one small step in front of the other. a metaphorical tapping in to my own inner pioneer.

so okay. here goes...

speaking of jam...

a few days ago i got my own jar of jelly. and i am remiss to report that it is nearly finished. yes, already. what can i say? this girl likes her jam.

when i was in houston just a few weeks ago i got to have jalepeno jam. at a restaurant called reef helmed by james beard award nominee bryan caswell. let me just say this: this bryan fella, he knows how to make his food. i've been dreaming about that jam for days now. and not just the jam. but also the fresh beet ravioli. yes, beets! who knew?

and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.

she was over men. over the idea of it. or maybe just overwhelmed by the idea of it.

she was tired and exhausted and intimidated into exhaustion.

wanted nothing to do with dating or meeting or having to smile.

didn't want to feign a certain level of interest.

suddenly loneliness didn't seem quite so lonely.

but preferable. safe.

but oh how she longed to feel a boy's hand in her own. just that. that simple act. the warmth and touch. mutual touch. and innocence.

yes, that was it, she longed for the innocence.

for the time before. when fingers intertwined was enough.

more than enough.

oh to go back to a time when the holding of hands was everything.

today i am stuffed.

with the salad below. (euf, so full!)

with gratitude.

with love for friends new and old.

with undeserved kindness.

with peace.

and the knowledge and faith that life has a way of working out. (ps: remind me of this the next time i think the sky is falling, as invariably i will at some point in the near future.)

(note: ignore the strange look on my face. i think it's the product of nearly finishing the salad {yes, the ENTIRE thing}, which left me careening toward food comatose. and ignore my poor hair--that's a product of dying hair dryer.)

dear mallorie,

thanks for giving me my first cafe rio experience. and for the trip to wal-mart for a new hair dryer. my hair thanks you. let's play again soon.

xo,

meg

helloooooo, utah!

i had the loveliest afternoon. yup, the loveliest. there, i said it.

the gorgeous emily of la vie en rose treated me to gelato on provo's center street (we both had pecan) and then took me on a walking tour. she pointed out the best places for mexican food and milkshakes (diego's and sammy's {separate stops}).

i had so much fun and laughed and laughed and instantly i felt a little more at home.

oh, did i mention that when she came to pick me up she brought me a jar of jam? a jar of my very own. for the fridge. and yes, it's homemade. swoon. and yes, i've already had some on toast. and yes, perfection, it was.

thank you emily for giving me such a gorgeous welcome. (and for being patient enough to post for the obligatory picture-taking session). i can't wait to do it again!

ps: camilla of champagne bubbles posted this and it came as such a surprise. it kinda made my month. actually, no kinda about it, it did. it made my month. especially because i want to claim camilla as a real-life friend, desperately.

root bear floats. and a tangential reaching out to the makers of soda water.

yesterday after a run to the grocery store for some soda water (dear: canada dry, perrier, pellegrino, i am still waiting for you to offer me a sponsorship deal. let me give you a hint, i belong to the highest bidder--and by highest bidder i mean the company willing to offer me a lifetime supply of their product.) i stopped at sonic. i went inside. and was totally thrown by the red buttons and large display boards. ha! i had forgotten how sonic works.

i pressed the button.

and found the whole thing a bit disconcerting: like oz behind the curtain.

but in the end i got my root beer float, delivered on skates. and immediately i felt like i was twelve years old all over again driving with my mom in the car down a texas highway.

i tried the key in all the doors,

even though he said he didn't recognize it.

it's not that i didn't trust him,

because i did.

it's that at the end of my search

i wanted to be able to say:

i don't know how i could have tried harder.

extremely loud and incredibely close

jonathan safran foer

dear husband-to-be,

yesterday i wore a pair of jeans.

i know, doesn't seem like such a big deal.

but it means you and i will never have that uncomfortable conversation where you say you've never seen me wear any.

and what that really means is... well, everything.

love,

your boot-scoot-and-boggying-blue-jeans-wearin'-little-lady

toast.

i am eating multigrain toast with cheddar cheese right now. and all together it tastes like cinnamon.

hmmm.

the fridge in this temporary apartment from which i pulled my cheddar cheese is awfully full of jam. that's what i caught my attention this morning during the cheese extraction. so much jam. so many jars of jam.

i've noticed this. always a lot of jam in apartments where girls reside. and yet i've never really seen girls eat jam. well, there was this one time that my fried carolyn ordered jam with her toast at a restaurant, but she was following a vegan diet and i pointed out that jam usually has an animal extract in it and everyone at the table gave me a nasty look. and that was that.

i myself like jam. very much. most especially that of the raspberry hero persuasion. and i like my cheese kerrygold. there i said. swedish and irish. i have an international palate.

there's always that moment moving into a new place when someone else's mess becomes your mess and the feeling of disease abates (as in not at ease, not the medical condition). i'm waiting for that.

already it's a wee bit better. i bought myself a lamp from wal-mart. it's silver with a white shade and very classy, if i do say so myself. and i've put a pretty blue sheet and flowering comforter on the raised twin-bed.

it's just that, out of all the jars of jam in the fridge not-a-one is mine.

so this adjusting thing may take a little time.

ps: i can't thank you all enough for your loving comments and emails. the amount of kindness and comfort you have provided me with is deeply humbling. so thank you, thank you, a hundred times over, thank you. and after the first good cry on that first afternoon i've been tear-free. all is well on this end.

okay.

i have arrived in utah where i will be for the next three months.

right now three months seems like an interminable amount of time to spend in a place where i don't really know anyone. in a room that feels awfully tiny, awfully white, and awfully far from home.

but the mountains are large and green and one feels like they might just reach out their hand and actually touch them.

so i'll let the mountains do their work on me. and i'll be okay.

even if i have to cry a bit along the way.

like yesterday. on the plane. because i don't know that i've ever been so frightened. or felt so far away from what i had once imagined for my life.

or like today. because i miss my parents (and some really darn good tex-mex food).

but parents (and lupe's) will be in texas when i return in september.

and new york will be on the cusp of autumn when i finally make it back.

and who knows where life will be. and that's the exciting part, right?

on not eating meat.

so i gave up eating meat going on a year now.

i wouldn't call myself a vegetarian, because if the craving calls, i'll answer.

but for the most part i choose not to partake. and i love how it makes me feel--like i'm doing my small part for the environment. not to mention i'm more confident about what exactly it is i'm putting in my body.

(yes, i take longer to choose an item off the menu. and yes this is a pain for my dining-out companion, but small trade-offs, you know)?

so i've been craving chili for going on two months now. i don't know why i think of it as a summer food--i know, i know, it is a winter food, but there you have it--and my mother graciously accepted the challenge of making vegetarian chili. but not just vegetarian...vegetarian chili sans any kind of canned tomato.

you see, i read this article...the seven foods that should never pass your lips.

and canned tomatos are number one.

it was the same article that had me convincing my mother to get the alaskan salmon at the fish counter yesterday. atlantic salmon is out of the question, i said. it's farm raised--the fish are kept in unbelievably close quarters and fed grains. the alaskan salmon was 13 dollars more per pound, but my mother kindly obliged.

look, i know 13 dollars is a big leap in price. in any economy. but the benefit to the health and environment (in my opinion) far outweighs the cost.

my parents often take all the information i spew with a grain of salt (keep in mind i was raised in a household that had grilled chicken for dinner every night). and you know what? i get it. i get why they're weary of some of the things i have to say. (often because i'm not terribly articulate with the facts). but they've been so supportive and willing to try.

and the thing is... i think this process of reevaluating our food's impact has given us all a little extra to chew on. (euf, bad pun, so bad! but i couldn't resist).

notes:

can't make the leap the becoming a full-time vegetarian? maybe you don't have to. check out this TED video.

and again, please, please peruse the aforementioned article. i've not been able to stop thinking about it since i read it over a month ago.

okay, okay. soapbox/infomercial, whatever this ended up becoming...fin.

i have another confession to make.

i am an unbelievably fearful person.

so much of my life is dictated by what scares me. and there is much, much that scares me.

on top of that i embarrass easily.

these are not good qualities. i know. these things preclude me from doing so much. from taking risks and having fun and getting into just the right amount of trouble.

but i'm working on it.

and as i work on it i cling to these words:

"there is no security on this earth. only opportunity."

oh, yes, of course...opportunity. ok, i choose opportunity. and i'll work on the fear thing along the way.

quote by general douglas macarthur

i have a confession to make.

pizza in the city is something else.

in fact there's a little step-down shop on 74th and amsterdam that i go just about nuts over.

but my favorite pizza parlor in all the world is here in houston off of memorial drive.

oh napoli. with your red chairs, hard plastic plates, and lite-up board, few places can make me so happy.

and then there's that greek salad and slice of cheese. it may not look like much, but honey, let me tell you...

not quite closure.

she sat in a chair just a few feet from his.

she fingered the wine glass in front of her.

watched as he joked with his friends across the table.

listened to their conversations. smiled.

the bar was crowded. joyous in it's teeming capacity.

everyone knew everyone else.

the atmosphere was one of celebration and beginning. the start of something.

she felt so full with it all.

and yet.

she eyed the packet of cigarettes in front of him.

he hadn't smoked when they'd known each other.

he would turn to ask her a question, and she couldn't find the man she'd once cared for in his eyes.

she felt as though she was sitting next to a stranger. couldn't equate this person with the man she'd gone on all those dates with, the man she'd had countless daydreams about.

she knew what he was doing. well, she thought she did.

it was protection, this closing off. she understood.

he was perfectly polite. perfectly kind. it had been nice of him to include her. but he was so far away. the three feet between them belied a far greater distance.

had she hurt him? was that was this was?

she was having two experiences at once. she was enjoying her wine, enjoying meeting new people, laughing even. and yet, the person she had come for was changed in a way that she couldn't quite touch.

there was no sense of any history. any past.

and because the man sitting next to her was not the man she had loved she wondered if that man had ever existed. perhaps not.

and just like that, with that one thought, all the memories of the two of them together became memories of her alone. without. how quickly he dissolved from the images her mind paged through on slow, yawning afternoons.

it was then. and only then that she first felt her heart break. and oh how she hated that phrase. heart. break. but there it was.

never had she felt so alone. in the midst of the crowded bar. among friends and new faces she was unspeakably, unutterably alone.

she had loved him. just a little. or started to at least. she hadn't meant to hurt him. certainly not that. but mistakes are made.

so she finished her second glass of wine. kissed him on the cheek. and walked out. alone.

i've been in nyc too long.

this morning i popped into the grocery store.

couldn't have been there more than fifteen minutes and no less than four people asked if they could help me.

i found all that unsolicited kindness... unnerving.

so many people enter and leave your life.

hundreds of thousands of people.

you have to keep the door open,

so they can come in.

but it also means

you have to let them go.

extremely loud & incredibly close

jonathan safran foer

via.

ceviche. and houston.

i arrived home in houston yesterday.

i'll be spending one glorious week here before heading to utah for the next few months.

last night we thought long and hard where to go for my first meal back in town. and in the end it was the lure of goode company's ceviche that made the decision for us.

ah, it's good to be home!

ice cream. not all good?

i tend to go through food phases.

and of late i've wanted nothing so much as ice cream.

but on friday night when my friend megan suggested too much ice cream was one of the causes of kidney stones, i took that little nugget of information for the gift that it was:

reason enough to lay off the mint chocolate chip. (for tonight at least).

two bags.

there's one large suitcase sitting next to my bedroom door right now.

and an overstuffed blue tote.

my room is littered with all those things i'm just not sure what to do with.

to take this sock or not?

this piece of paper--can i throw it away?

i know it's only three months. i know that.

and yet.

it just feels so... so long.

and so i pack my life into a large black suitcase and one blue tote.

my life. {deep, long exhale}

i know this is the right thing.

in my gut i know it. i know good things will come from this.

and yet.

i can't imagine the other end.

the three months feel as they might just swallow me whole.

and they might just.

and that's okay.

i know that.

and yet.

i can't bring myself to move that large black suitcase and one blue tote to the hallway from which i'll leave tomorrow morning.

from which i'll open our heavy black door, cross some sort of threshold, and close it quietly so as to not wake the others.

perhaps it's that i'm afraid of who i will be--or won't be, what i will know--or won't know when i return. black suitcase, blue tote in hand.

and right now this little expedition, this... trudging through slush of my own self-doubt and deep-brurried belief, feels awfully lonely.

cookie

it should be noted that i spent all night (yes, all night) attempting to make cookie monster cupcakes.

why, you ask?

as an i'll-see-you-in-three-months gift for little zoobie (my nineteen-month-old friend that i look after a few afternoons each week). she loves cuppycakes which shall here-to-for be called "happy-ahs" (derived from happy birthday, of course) and on top of that she is nuts for all the sesame street characters. most especially: elmo, abby, big bird (bia), and cookie (which she pronounces by simply grunting).

so yes, this one little happy-ah took me all night. hopefully, i'll get a few more turned out. but the others are downright terrifying. can you blame me? remember, i'm not particularly adept with frosting.

note: if you're confused as to why i won't see zoobie for three months it's because i'm off for some fresh-air in utah!

a reminder.

i've posted this before. but i'm beginning to think that when i sit down with my coffee each morning, this should be the first thing i read--as a daily practice, a reminder, the mantra by which all other mantras are eclipsed.

LOVE AFTER LOVE

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott

i have a question.

yesterday a black vespa crossed right in front of me.

i was stepping off the sidewalk and it zipped right by. it was so close i could have reached out and touched it.

and so my question is...

if a black cat crossing your path is an "omen of doom" (yes, one website described it as just that, an "omen of doom")

then a black vespa crossing your path is omen of ...

good tidings?

i'm gonna go with that. after all, you know how i love my vespas.

photo still from Roman Holiday

pulling the same face.

three things that seem important to me when looking at this photograph:

1. i'm quite sure it was done using a self-timer

2. my adrienne vittadini outfit was worn every day of that visit

3. i am in fact making the same face as my father (which is noteworthy, because to this day we pull the same faces and i used to think it was a relatively recent development, but obviously not).

sometimes i think if there is a set amount of luck for each person in this life, i used all mine up in choosing my parents.

i have parents who actually parented. who sat us down as a family after dinner to read a book aloud, together. who held family meetings--miserable, awful things they seemed at the time, but important too.

my dad's birthday was this past weekend. and not a day goes by where i don't find myself catching my breath--awed by the daily sacrifices and hard work he has put in so that my brother and i might have every and any opportunity we choose.

my father literally gave us the gift of choice.

so if i don't say it enough (and i don't) thank you, dad.

and a very happy birthday to you.

saturday night and gatsby.

friday marked my last shift at the restaurant.

just before going in i stopped in the local bakery for a bottle of pellegrino to save me from the unsavory new york heat.

i pointed, asked, and was met with questioning looks.

silence.

backtrack. replay. click-in. oh. i had asked for a bottle of prosecco. freudian slip? (after all, the end of my tenure as glorified restaurant decor is cause for celebration, no?)

so when alisha came over on saturday night i asked her to bring sparkling things. she kindly obliged with a bottle of pellegrino and prosecco. you see why i like her, right?

point of fact: my friendship with alisha is the best thing to have come out of my time working at the restaurant.

friendship is a funny thing. it can take a lot of work. and friends come and go. but every so often you (or, well i do) meet someone and think, i'll keep them for life, please.

when i first met alisha i had been working as the new girl for three months. and i was ready to not be the new girl. but i was not ready for alisha. she was just so damn...sparky. and very short. and from a height of 5'10" both things seemed cause for concern.

i think it was that so much pep could be packaged in such a little body that i found off-putting.

i soon came to learn that this pep was a brilliant ploy to appease management and cover a deeply intelligent and sarcastic sense of humor.

i love how smart alisha is. and i love that every time i suggest a book, she declares that she's read it (chances are years ago...probably dreamt it up before it was even written). and then she goes and does something like flapping her arms all about because she's so darn hot and once she settles into the heat she starts waxing nostalgic about great gatsby and don't you know, she can actually quote the thing.

it was beastly hot on saturday night. and while we laughed the whole way through it, by night's end we had "lapsed despairingly into deep heat with a desolate cry."

all in all, perfection.

spot me if you can.

tonight i found this photo of my family and immediately started crying.

it's from my cousin's wedding back in march.

i look at it and see my little cousin kevin who got four shirley temples into the night before he was cut off. and his father who late in the evening commandeered the mike and rendered us speechless with a rendition of build me up buttercup in the style of elvis. then there's my cousin katie who's gonna be such a stunner when she's older (and has no idea). i see uncle bill who appraises it all ever so coolly (because truly he's far, far cooler than the rest of us). and my aunt mary-beth who gets down on the dance floor like it's nobody's business. and uncle joe who asked my mother to dance (during the polka or something like it) and i don't think her feet touched the floor but twice.

the list goes on and on.

and i shed tears of joy because i'm so thankful to be part of such a... (let's call it boisterous)...clan.

photo by dolce studio

flowers in the window

today i believe in nothing so much as flowers on the windowsill. cool showers and white collars.

passing.

it occurs to me there are days when a person can do everything right.

rise from bed at a reasonable hour.

eat a reasonable breakfast from the beloved blue-flowered bowl.

have a book for the train ride.

go to work.

go to the gym: move the body; refresh the blood.

meet a friend.

meet another.

take in a scoop of mint ice cream. on a sugar cone.

take in a sweedish film on spur-of-the-moment-last-minute impulse.

enjoy all of the above.

and yet.

sadness persists.

but it is just one day.

a passing thing.

and so one must go to bed.

and pray that tomorrow will be better.

recognize that it might not be.

but hope that sadness doesn't begin to string the days together.

because it's that damn stringing that's worrisome.

this is how it begins...

there are mornings that as i wake i feel a calling so strong to stretch out my toes before me. and i usually consent before my wits are fully formed to stop me.

the result is a short-lived charlie horse. and short-lived or not, it is painful.

i awoke to that. and the song eleanor rigby stuck in my head.

who knows what kind of day this will be?

an adventure in utah

so as it turns out, i actually went to juilliard.

i studied theatre.

i planned to be an actor.

you know what they say about the best laid plans...

i stepped away from acting just over a year ago with every intention of returning. but somewhere along the way i began to wonder if i ever would return--if i wanted to.

and because i found fulfillment in other things i started to think perhaps it was best to just move on.

but every once and a while, i miss it.

terribly.

this is all to say i'm heading to utah this summer to work through these questions in a new way.

i'll be playing juliet in a production of romeo and juliet.

i know you all are going to be wonderfully supportive. but before sharing this, i had to make sure that stripped of anyone's support other than my own, i'd be okay.

and i think i will be.

so there you have it.

three months in utah to figure out if i want to act.

and let me add, before coming to see me in romeo and juliet (and you will, no?) you must check out the production of much ado about nothing. it's outside, absolutely free, 80 minutes long, and you can bring your own picnic...

lovely.

check out the blog.