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.

cousin.

today is my cousin kevin's birthday.

how to describe kevin?

kevin feels like my three-year-old-soul-mate.

does that make sense? not really to me either, but that's the only way i can think to describe it.

he, more than anyone else, calls me out. he reminds me to laugh, to smile, balks at my particular brand of girl-crazy and laughingly guides me back to sanity.

but more than anything else he reminds me that life is fun. it's meant to be fun. and thank god for that.

happy birthday, kevin. and thank you.

a wish for november.

last night my friend angela came over for some very, very belated birthday sweet treats.

she lit cupcakes for me and demanded we take a picture. i was laughing so hard that one of the candles blew out just from that.

but i made a wish, nonetheless.

i won't tell you what it is. not exactly. because then it wouldn't come true.

but i will tell you, that right now,

i sure am wishing that november is a heck of a lot better than october.

that i get back in to the routine of waking up early.

that i find myself at the pool more often than not.

that i always have a good book to read. 

ps: want to know what my goal for the month of november is? learn to flirt. and then practice, practice, practice. right now i'm at the point where me flirting is me being a relatively friendly human being (as opposed to emitting an icy blast, which is what i tend to do with cute men), so i'm just a hop, skip, and a jump away.........

who i am at 24.

this morning i woke up to a new year. 

i buttoned up my brand new, crisp-as-they-come, white blouse, took a good long look in the mirror and decided that yes, 24 felt different in the best possible way. i was different. better. immediately, i knew.

then i gave one squirt of smashbox foundation into my waiting hand and ended up with five gloriously large makeup blobs all over my brand new shirt--my never-been-worn shirt. and i was brought back to reality. this would not be the year of the immaculately clean white blouse. a new year, a new day does not a different person make. i am still the girl who gets make-up on her shirt (or food--more often food), stumbles over her words, and does not realize that the restaurant has not been serving broccoli now for a full 34 days (as my boss so kindly pointed out). 

and you know what? thank God above for my persistent little foibles. they're glorious. and i love them.

my girlfriend from high school and i were speaking on the phone today. about boys. (what all young, twenty-something women most love to discuss). and she mentioned a boy she had dated several years ago that she would be meeting up with soon. she expressed trepidation about the time elapsed and said, i'm not same person i was at fifteen. to which i replied, thank God,  whitney. thank God we're not the same people. 

okay, so i am different today. and i'll be different tomorrow. each day brings a new and exciting adventure. 

i may not be so young as i was last year. but i have a year's worth of knowledge along with a new number. and for the first time in my life i feel like i am on the precipice of... everything. 

so 24. who am i. well, here goes.

if i could have a constant supply of anything for the rest of my life it would be flowers and paper toweling. 

at the grocery store, i most love coming away with the tall, slender bottles of pellegrino. it makes me feel...french.

i hiccup any time i've had too much food or eaten too quickly. so... often. very, very often. 

there is a direct correlation between the quality of my mood and the cleanliness of my home.

laughter. above all, i need laughter. small hiccups of laughs and roaring guffaws. when i think of the man i'll marry there is so much i dream of. but the only thing i know--i mean really know--is that he'll laugh at my jokes and my constant mistakes. and himself. oh for a man who can laugh at himself! he'll make me laugh and for this i'll love him as though our lives depend on it. 

i'd like to tell you that ned isn't following me into this new year. but he is. two weeks ago i would have said, no, no way. but with the onset of bed bugs and thus a disrupted sleep cycle, he has taken taken this opportunity to creep back in. when i am healthy it's as though i've found a little pocket of air in which to breathe--and i ride it for as long as i can. it's a sweet spot where ned can't touch me. and i know that in the process of recovering it's important to fall out of the pocket so that i can figure out how to get back to it quickly. so i'm trying to give thanks for the fall out. but giving thanks isn't always so easy. nor is finding my way back in. 

back in april i gave myself a year to fail, to fall on my ass again and again. and i'm doing it and loving it. and i've still got a good six months. 

i promised myself that come 24 i would take pictures. all the time. every day. it would take work and practice, but i would make it a habit. and it would be a crushing blow to ned. but i'm not feeling very picture pretty today. so i make this promise. it will be a week late, but come this weekend i will post some photos. full length photos. photos that pretty or not will show you who i am in a way that my words cannot. 

i feel good about this age. this 24 number will be a good one. ned will end. and i will fall in love. (that's my divination for the future...i guess we'll see if my predictions are on point!). 

ps: i have a crush on a man who snaps his fingers. and when he does it's strong and clear and reminds me of my father and this inspires great confidence. 

photo via sabino.

happy birthday dad

Today is my father's birthday. It's a big one.

I don't know if he'd want me to say, which one.

Oh hell...he's turning 60. 

And I think that's pretty amazing.

Because the truth is...my dad is my dad. 

And I love him so much. And I love him even when the words don't come easy.

"His hair turned gray that winter. I thought it was snow.  He promised us that everything would be OK. I was a child, but I knew that everything would not be OK.  That did not make my father a liar.  It made him my father."

"Gerald smiled at me in the rearview mirror and asked if we wanted any music. I asked him if he had any kids. He said he had two daughters...'Are they both special?' He cracked up and said, 'Of course their pop is gonna say they're special.' 'But objectively.' 'What's that?' 'Like, factually. Truthfully.' 'The truth is I'm their pop.'

from extremely loud and incredibly close

I got your back too.

The night Paul Newman died Rob couldn't sleep. He was restless, anxious and roamed around the apartment. When he finally got to sleep, in the wee hours of the morning, he dreamt. He dreamt of an adventure with none other than Newman himself. In the dream Newman handed Rob a gun, keeping one for himself, and said, Let's make sure we've got eachother's backs. And so Rob tried to shoot his weapon to protect the two of them, but nothing came out. So Paul took over and said, Don't worry about me. I've got your back. That morning when Rob arose he learned of Paul Newman's passing. He called me and woke me with the news and he spoke with a great sadness in his voice. And as he did, I was reminded of just how much I love Rob. He taught me something no one else could--that the best friendships, are worth fighting for. They, like anything else, take work and care. And there are bumps along the way, but at the end of the day, Rob has always had my back. So Newman may have been you're hero Rob, but in many ways you are mine. 

Happy Birthday my love, happy birthday. You will always be one of the true great loves--the true great friends--of my life.

Lucy and Ethel's Day of Fun. Otherwise known as, Mom and I take on Ikea.

So for my 23rd birthday, October 4, 2008, my mom and I moved. Well, my mom helped me move. 

I woke in the wee hours of the morning to pack up, load the car all by my lonesome (no men needed, thank you very much), and inhale a granola bar before my mom took to the roads. With me as her wing man (or rather the place her anxiety driven comments bounced off of) we made it to the new abode in record time. 

We made it, only to find the street was shut down by a parade. No worries, we found a choice parking spot around the corner and the plan was that I would lug the boxes in while my mom would survey , take measurements, and eventually come to the realization that this place was just fine and hence I would be just fine. This was the plan. And it was carried out...somewhat successfully. After lugging one box I went in search of the police in hopes that they might let us in past the barricade, after all, while the street was closed it wasn't actually on the route of the parade. The fresh-faced all of eighteen officer took one look at me (I'm sure sweat was dripping at this point, despite the cool October air), laughed, briskly said no, and returned to his partner to talk about nothing of importance. No, no? But I was moving in? Shouldn't I have been granted some pass? This blockade was the first of many we would face on this momentous day, but we were not to be deterred. I finally got all the boxes in, my mom got the measurements and off we Ikea we traipsed. 

We had been the night before, after my three hour tour of Lincoln tunnel, but now we were ready to buy. Bookcase, check. Chest of drawers, check. Two separate mirrors, check. All in a very chic, very grown up, fitting for a 23 year-old, color of black-brown. We loaded the items, or rather the very heavy brown boxes housing the yet to be assembled items, onto our cart with the help of a very handsome Spaniard (this time manly assistance was a must) and I proceeded to the checkout while my mom went to pull the car around. I paid, with my own money, and went to meet her. No man around to help load boxes into car. What's a girl to do. Go in search. Detour first--hunger takes precedence. Dollar bag of animal crackers from vending machine? Yes, please. By then I realize the boxes are already in the car and my search ends before it really began. So I head of to arrange the boxes, only to be distracted by the scent of nail polish coming from my purse. It spilled, but no real damage. However, in setting my stuff down to check I sat on my animal crackers with a resounding crunch and then as I reached to salvage them I dumped them all over the floor. 

With or without the crackers we headed back to the city. During the car ride the boxes kept hitting my mom and so I was assigned to fasten them into place. Pit stop at Fudruckers for burgers. Then into apartment. Lugging boxes. All by ourselves. Off to sleepy's. Swayed by salesman ( I always am) so I've got a full on hold. At this point, so tired, barely breathing. No coherent trains of thought. Back to Montclair. Buy supplies for bunny cake. Nap. Oh thank you nap, I've missed you, you brought me back to life. 

The two of us, while we accomplished alot, were like chickens with our heads cut off. If something could go wrong, we not only enabled it, but seemed to encourage it. Lucy and Ethel, we just can't decide who's who. Last October we may have had the perfect visit, but yesterday...yesterday was the perfect day. 

Resolution #1: Take More Photos.

look really closely at this one...I'm in the bottom left corner (you can see my red fingernails)

Happy First Birthday Event Seek.

So I have a brother. His name is Connor. And I couldn't be prouder of him.

One year ago today, he and his friend Tristan launched their very own startup company, Event Seek.  

They left behind paying jobs and in this tumultuous economy are riding the wave and making a go of it. We always knew he'd put that engineering degree to good use and we also knew he'd have to be his own boss (those who know him will understand that comment--in fact rumor has it that the reason I never spoke as a child was because he did enough for the both of us. Not to worry, those who know me, now know I'm making up for those lost years). 

The purpose of the company (as I understand it, and I still don't quite get it) is to compile all the events in any given area so that if a person is in need of an some ideas of what to do or in need of some info regarding an event they are planning to attend this is the place to go. And the best part is, the site figures out what you like the more you use it and then caters to you individually. 

Last night they launched their very own prototype at www.event-seek.com. Check it out. And then you'll figure out just how proud I really am.

So happy birthday Event Seek. And Connor I can't believe I'm lucky enough to call you my brother.

My "the Year of 23" Resolutions.

I've been thinking alot about beginnings lately. New beginnings (is it even possible to have an old beginning...off topic, back to the point). Those events that mark our lives, bookend memories and then open the next chapter. Here I am twenty-two and the whole of life is just beginning to open up to me. The future is pregnant with possibility.


So in the spirit of Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year) and my new numerical age I've decided I'm not going to wait around for January 1. I'm gonna make some resolutions now...and they shall be called..."the Year of 23" Resolutions (the title makes me giggle)

Smile More

Take More Pictures

Live by the Mantra: "No Shame, No Guilt, No Punishment"

Fall in Love a Hundred Times A Day

Stop Waisting All My Money on Starbucks Mocha Mint Chip Frappucino Lights

Turn My New Apartment Into A Fabulous Little Abode

Enjoy the Parks. Explore the City. Live like a Tourist (kinda)

Live on a Budget. Save, save, save and make, make, make some Money

Accept the Path which "fate has me assigned"

Risk More. Live with Courage

Put Ned to Bed. For Good.

Open my Mind to Worlds Outside My own

Fail Graciously. And Gracefully (or Flat on My Face)

Live and Speak Truthfully

Of my twenty-three years of life, this is what I know: As soon as I've got something all figured out (especially about myself), it changes. And that's the exciting part.