Jon Proposes [A Scavenger Hunt]

On Sunday, March 3, 2013, I woke up with my dog happily jumping around me, bouncing on and off the bed. Nothing weird about this; it accurately describes every morning.

My sister, Kim, was visiting for the weekend; we'd spent all of Saturday marathoning Switched at Birth -- an ABC Family drama that deals with a girl who is deaf, so there is lots of American Sign Language. Kim is studying ASL and hopes to pursue interpreting, so... watching and loving this show makes sense. That was our weekend. Getting up-to-date on the full series while Jon was out of town visiting his folks in Santa Barbara.

At least, that was the plan. I went to bed on Saturday night expecting to wake up and keep going with the show. Apparently, that wasn't the plan at all.

I woke up (foggily) and knew from the various noises I was hearing that Kim had gotten up to take Ennis and her dog, Gretchen, outside so I didn't think too much about the fact that she was up already. Until I noticed that Ennis had something around his neck. I called him up on the bed and saw immediately that it was  a message in a bottle, with a bit of sand and everything. I also knew, of course, that it was for me and, through my daze, I started calling for Kim while I fumbled to get it open. In the process and spilled sand on the bed. I screamed for Kim through developing tears, saying that I'd spilled sand all over the bed.

I opened the message.



Aaaaaaand I immediately started crying tears of fear and confusion and happiness. It was a weird mix, and all I could think was that my hair was dirty and my armpits were smelly and how Kim had refused (for some reason) to go and get girly manicures & pedicures the day before. I was physically not prepared for this.

Mentally and emotionally prepared, however? Yeah. I was ready.

So I did what any girl would do who was half asleep and suddenly bombarded by romance: I sat there crying for a while. I dunno, it's a blur.

Eventually I threw on a robe and waddled down the hallway into the living room, my face tear-stained and feeling weirdly self-conscious, only to see Kim sitting there with a flippant smirk on her face while tap-tap-tapping away on her cell phone.

On the kitchen table was a Starbucks coffee, a wrapped-up breakfast sandwich, and a note.

(I scanned all of the notes for the blog - in addition to the patterns on the backsides - since I couldn't get very good quality photos with my camera. Deal with it.)



At this point it solidified in my brain that I was about to be sent on a scavenger hunt. Since my brain tends to immediately complicate things and I'm basically the worst at puzzles and riddles, I started panicking about where I was about to be sent and whether I could actually figure out these clues.

Kim, seeing my confusion, assured me that it wasn't meant to confuse me; think simply.

"Do I have to go somewhere? I'm dirty," I sniveled.

She told me to shower and take all the time that I needed. I left my coffee, my breakfast sandwich, and my first clue and went to shower. (I also shaved my legs within an inch of their life, in case you were curious. Also, fun fact: before getting into the shower, Kim asked me, "If I hear a thud in there, should I call for help?", obviously teasing me about how disoriented and shakey I was feeling. Not 5 minutes after entering the shower, I slipped and fell. Twice. Ooohhh, good job, body.)

I got out of the shower, dressed, and considered the clue while I drank my coffee and sriracha'd-up (technical term) my sandwich. Obviously the clue was referring to Ennis Del Mar, Heath Ledger's character in Brokeback Mountain (whom I named my boober after), so eventually I determined that -- if I wasn't leaving the house -- the next clue was either in my copy of the screenplay or the BluRay.

I was right. Inside the BluRay for Brokeback Mountain was the next clue:



When I told mah girl, Kait, the story of Jon's proposal, she got this clue in about .75 seconds. Apparently she knows me better than I know myself, because I read this and almost gave up right then and there. I had no idea. And of course, despite Kim telling me not to, I immediately over-complicated it. Here's where my brain went:

"Constellation? So... stars? Like, celebrities? Hollywood?!?!?"

See what I mean? Pathetic.

I put the clue down and went to do my hair, talking a little to Kim to see if I could get any hints or tips from her about what I should be expecting. She was tight-lipped, which I give her credit for, because she is usually a blabbermouth. (Honestly, no idea how she hung out with me all weekend and didn't give this whole shebang away.)

Mid-blow dry, the answer finally came to me and I felt like a fool. I went into my office to our gallery wall, and pulled off my Hubble telescope photo of the Orion Nebula. (I've referred to Orion as my "constellation crush" since I was about 17.)

Tapped behind it, was clue #3:



"What??"

Kim called to me from the other room, "You know, you can use Google! You're not on lock-down, dude!"

Ah.

I started to Google and it popped up after just a few letters: Bird's nest fern, which is my dearest and favoritest plant that I haven't managed to kill yet.

On the balcony, nestled in the dirt with my fern, was clue #4:

I must've started to get better at this game, because I figured this one out pretty quickly. My dress from Free People that I bought last year on sale ($69 down from $299) turned out to be way too small for me, but it was too pretty to send back, so I dubbed it my "goal dress" for when I inevitably have my wedding rehearsal dinner.

Inside the dress, paperclipped to the inside of the tag, was clue #5.

Another easy one: my yoga studio, SunSpark.

To give you some perspective, I woke up at around 8:30 AM, and by now it was getting close to 10:15 or so. At this point, I was feeling a lot less queasy about everything, and started to settle into a normal rhythm of nerves and anticipation. I'm an extremely self-conscious person, and generally don't like being looked at for too long, much less being the center of attention, so the thought of going out and maybe interacting with people... was skeery.

Kim and I leashed up our dogs and went on our way, walking the half-mile to my yoga studio. I was relieved to see that it was Ernie sitting at the front desk (the part-owner of the studio and a super nice guy), and when I walked in, he gave me a knowing and friendly smile.

"I think you have something for me," I said.

He pulled out a clue which matched the others and handed it over.

"How's your morning been so far?" he asked.

"Oh, you know. It's been a morning." Awkward.

"Did you suspect anything at all?"

"NOPE!"

I thanked him, blushing like a fool, and went out towards the obvious destination: Chapman's Leatherby Library.

It was a gorgeous day. Walking with Kim and the dogs felt pretty great, and even though I was still shakey and anxious, my excitement started to build the longer we walked.

Outside Leatherby, Kim told me to go in alone and find the book I was instructed to get, and bring it out with me. Apparently, it had already been checked out!

Being the idiot that I am (and bad college student that I was), I had a bit of trouble deciphering the library code, but eventually found my way to the Literature section.

Then eventually to a copy of my favorite modern romance: The Time Traveler's Wife. Inside, the next clue:



This meant we were about to turn around and head back towards home. This couldn't be anything other than The Filling Station, our favorite place to get brunch and salads in Old Towne Orange.

So with that, we started back the way we came, all the while shaking out my hands and trying to stop my heart from beating so intensely in them. By now I wasn't so much nervous or anxious, but anticipatory. I wanted to see Jon, and I wanted this to be over, with a ring on my finger. Get 'er done.

A few blocks away, surrounded by the brunch crowd that keep Old Towne bustling on Sundays, I walked up to the hostess stationed outside and gave her my name. I wasn't sure if I needed to get food, or whether she was the right person to talk to; she looked a little confused. She called over another hostess who instantly told me to come inside. She walked around the counter and pulled out a card just like the previous ones.

She smiled, adding, "Congratulations."

"Thanks," I squeaked.

Glancing at the last card, the air in my chest immediately floated to my head.



As you can probably imagine, this one is my favorite clue. It makes me happy every time I see it.

I walked home, hardly saying anything, doing my best imitation of Lamaze breathing to keep myself from falling over. The nerves were back, the anxiousness was all-encompassing. Kim broke the silence with some helpful reassurance, letting me know I would be alright. Just keep breathing.

Kim left me just beyond the gate in the building walkway, right at the bottom of the stairs leading up to our apartment. She took the dogs and had me go up alone.

The door was unlocked, the apartment was dark (as dark as it could be on a somewhat-sunny day), and Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat's "Lucky" was playing quietly from the kitchen. Several vases of flowers covered the coffee table, as well as a dozen or so candles.

A bit apprehensively -- as though I were anticipating someone to jump out of the closet and scare me -- I called Jon's name. After a few times he came out of the back room, dressed to the nines, with a rose that coincidentally matched the dress I was wearing. (Very much a perfect accident.)

Aaaaaaand then I cried. Somehow, though, Jon managed to keep it together. I kissed him as he handed me the rose, and we hugged for a long time. He had me sit down in one of our lounge chairs, which he'd moved to the center of the room.

He knelt down on one knee, then... I forget. I'm sorry, everyone. Honest to God... I barely remember a word that he said.

I know. Not really what you were expecting considering I've been telling you this long story and you were probably hoping for a detailed climax, but... The truth is, I was so happy, weepy, and excited that everything about these few minutes were a blur. All I can remember is that what he said was sweet, personal, and summed up the fact that we are two best friends who took a chance, fell in love, and it's all led up to this moment.

He pulled out the ring. He opened the box. He asked me to marry him.

Obviously, I said "yes," because hello, look at that thing! ;-)

Okay, okay, Jon is also the best guy I could ever hope to spend my life with. A bit more important than a perfect and stunning ring.

But the ring certainly doesn't hurt, either.

We hugged and kissed and held each other for a while, and it was then that I felt everything that had weighed me down all morning, week, month, year drift away from me. I was utterly relaxed and impossibly blissful.

Then we celebrated!

Jon pulled out the bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne that we'd been "saving for a special occasion" since we got it in September 2010. He popped the cork and we celebrated with the tastiest champagne I've ever had, both of us admiring the ring. He admitted that he'd had the ring for almost a month and was so relieved to see it on me and that it fit. He definitely went out of the balcony to admire it in the sunlight!

He also told me that my friend Shannon Gomes was there as well, and she had helped him set up the flowers and get everything in place around town that morning. I was so excited that another friend could be there to celebrate with us!




After snapping a few pictures, we invited Kim and Shannon back upstairs to share our champagne, and thank them for all that they did to help Jon plan such an amazing and personal proposal. (It's no secret that Kim had a pretty heavy hand in the idea!)

It's now been over a month since Jon proposed, and I've been in full-on wedding mode. Venue options, decor ideas, wedding date... it's all on constant rotation in my head -- and my internet searches!

I simply cannot wait to plan this wedding, and really get things rolling. Our families couldn't be happier or more supportive; we're so fortunate and blessed.

But more than that, I can't wait to marry my best friend and perfect match.

Big Changes Take a Little Adjusting

It's been about almost two months since I've been around these parts, which means I'm the worst, but guys, really, I've been a bit preoccupied with other things, like how - two weeks ago - well...

Jon and I got engaged.

!

I'm still reeling a bit from how weird and wonderful it feels. The whole weekend was an out-of-body experience; something that still feels like it happened to someone else. That might also be because now - in the reality of having to eventually plan a real wedding rather than just pinning about hypothetical cakes, flowers, dresses, and decor (I may or may not have given it a little thought) - I'm already starting to feel stressed out.

No. No no. It's way too early for that.

Jon's proposal was creative, simple, and personal. With a little help from my dear sister, I'm pretty sure everything went off without a hitch. I mean... I said "yes," so... how bad could it really have been? I have photos and other things to share, as soon as I can get it all off my camera. But right now, my camera is over there, and I'm here with my whisky & coke and I'm happy to just take my time with this.

I promise I'll be back with a full breakdown on how Mr. Jonathan did the deed, but until then, here's a fairly accurate type-emoticon-explosion of what my last two weeks have been like.

@~{~~~  :-D  xoxo  ! ! ! ! $ $ $   *_*  . . . ? ? . . .  #%^&  . . .  :-D :-D ! ! ! <3

You're welcome for that.


* image: Will you by Genevieve Santos

The Huntington Library [Cactus Love]

* all photos in this post were taken with my camera phone, hence the slight fuzziness... No fancy camera on this trip!

There are a few things I've promised myself that I'd do in 2013 besides "get healthy" and "fit in my clothes again." Primary objective: find balance, learn to resist temptations (constant battle of being a human), and focus on what matters most.

For the first time since I left college almost five years ago, I am living within 30 minutes to an hour (with Los Angeles traffic, it's a crap shoot) from my sister and numerous friends. This gives me incentive to leave my one-square-mile of comfort, and explore, explore, explore.

I admit: I'm not the biggest Los Angeles fan. It's nothing personal; I'm just a NorCal girl, and there's a long-standing grudge that the areas have against one another. (If you're not from the area, just imagine two different states, or Manhattan and Brooklyn. Same region, perhaps, but there's a clear separation between us.)

Despite that, there are endless things to do down here, and so much I don't know about the area. I've resolved -- along with Jon, Kim, and our friend Shannon -- to see more of it, and really take advantage of all this county (and Orange County, too) has to offer.

We started last Saturday with the Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. Really, it isn't much of a library. I didn't know this until about two week ago, when Kim was talking to me about how amazing it would be to get married here... until we noticed a little problem in the form of a jaw-dropping price tag.

Hmph. No matter.

There are umpteen reasons to spend the day at the Huntington Library, but the main reason I wanted to go was to see the Desert Garden, most of which was planted around 1905 when the property was built, with some cactus being fully mature when it was transplanted on the grounds.

It was incredible.

We first stopped at a greenhouse perched above the garden, where a small, public, coffee-and-donuts reception was happening. It looked to be a showcase of cactus and succulents, many of which were for sale. I recognized a lot of them, but some were downright bizarre.



The left image is of an agave attenuata, a favorite of mine. I think Shannon was pretty smitten with it too; we're both on a prowl for one to come live on our balconies. The picture on the right is of one succulent planted in a hanging planter, while another "volunteer" grows from the bottom. Two totally separate plants. According to a worker there, it surprised everyone years ago when it randomly started to grow through the hole in the planter.

And then there's these ones, which look like Muppets.



Basically the coolest plants ever, amirite?

Then, we walked. We weaved all around the bunches of colorful succulents and giant cactus. We searched for the strangest, sharpest, prettiest ones. It was amazing thinking about how so many of these cacti had been alive for over 100 years.




Kim really likes pokey things.



There are over a dozen gardens, small and large, at the Huntington, but we spent the most time in the Desert Garden. It was also the start of our day there, so we were full of energy and excited to be outside enjoying such beautiful plants -- right in the middle of fancy Pasadena.

And the weather was perfect. Maybe 78º F or so. The sky was clear, the sun was hot, and the air was crisp and cool.

This is January in California, folks.

Fun fact #1: the Huntington Desert Garden is home to the world's tallest Yucca filifera at around 60 feet tall.

The guide was pretty darn proud of it.

Fun fact #2: The asparagus-like stalk growing from this agave plant is the first sign that -- after it has bloomed -- the agave will die. From the blooms, thousands of baby plants will be born and begin to grow around the base of the dead agave trunk. This article talks about the agave blooming process, and it's kinda rad.

Unpreventable plant death. Cool, huh?

We spent the entire day walking around the Huntington property, which included multiple gardens and the main art gallery (the old Huntington residence), where I spent most of my time admiring old chairs and tables.

Oh, and George Romney (the British painter, not father to Bozo the Clown) is my new favorite old-timey portrait artist. This one, called "Emma Hart in a Straw Hat," was my favorite.

I'm looking forward to more adventures around Los Angeles, especially as the weather gets better.

Any recommendations for places to check out down in SoCal? Hiking/camping spots, museums, parks, restaurants/bars... we want to do, see, and eat everything. It's just how we roll.


* all images property of The Sleepy Peach

Namaste, Bitches

by Lime Fly Photography

It's a new year. 2013, you guys. I'm feeling so old suddenly.

The usual body and mind resolutions that are so prevalent come January have taken hold of my household. I wouldn't say we've done anything revolutionary, but this year we decided to focus on overall health, which means less of a focus on weight and numbers and scales and mass restrictions. (This, for a life-long, chronic dieter like me is, needless to say, a challenge.)

For years I have aimed for massive weight-loss each January, like the one I had when I was a senior in college, never really coming to terms with the fact that it just won't work this time. It's a hard habit to break; this desire to drop a quick 20 lbs. can be all-encompassing, and even now - 21 days after the implementation of my new, healthful mentality - I am struggling to resist the urge to jump on Medifast.com and order another $300 worth of food that will get me to my goal faster, easier. I'm not allowed to do that this time around. Just ask my handler/boyfriend. He's on crash diet watch.

I'm tackling my body-reawakening in installments, and so far it's been going wonderfully - as far as my strength, endurance, and flexibility is concerned.

Right after the new year changeover, I started up with Jillian Michael's "30-Day Shred" again. This is ol' reliable for me. I've started the 30-day challenge countless times, but have never stuck with it long enough to get a mastery of Level 2 and comfortably situated in Level 3.

This has been slow and steady, because in addition to starting up with Jillian again, I did a 2-week unlimited trial period at a local yoga studio, called SunSpark, in Old Towne Orange. I debated for a while whether I was going to do it, because after the 2-week trial, the monthly unlimited fee is substantially higher than simply joining a gym; I've had quite a few friends and relatives tell me that paying extra for a fancy yoga studio experience wasn't going to be worth it.

Now that my two weeks are over, I must disagree with their assessment. While I didn't experience any weight loss, the change in my body's flexibility and strength was apparent after just one week. The studio also has classes nearly all day long, which means I can go to class whenever I feel like it. I did around 5-6 classes per week, for a total of 11 classes (the 2-week trial fee is $20), and I've enjoyed it immensely.

There are a wide variety of yoga classes to choose from, from meditative/static, to strength-focused/moderate level, to cardio-focused/active, and I was doing approximately two of each type for both weeks during my trial. My last day was this past Sunday, and I am planning on committing to a 3-month unlimited membership starting after the 1st of February. It's an investment, but I feel it's money well spent, especially considering three weeks of Medifast food ran me about $250 - the same price as three months of unlimited yoga. Four classes per week will run me approximately $4.50/class.

Not too shabby, yeah?

Tackling one month of Jillian in conjunction with beginning my foray into the yogic arts is just a part of this body/mind reformation of mine. Rather than focusing on "dieting," Jon and I both are focusing our efforts on cleaner eating and smaller portions, which means listening to our bodies and indulging only on rare occasions.

With the help and inspiration of my dear friend and ex-roommate, Barbara (who has lost an astounding 50 lbs. in the last year), I'm working on finding the proper workout/food intake balance for my body, which has been a massive struggle in past years. I'm using MyFitnessPal to track some of my food so that I know I'm at least getting enough calories to feed my new workouts, but that I also don't overindulge on fats or carbs when I shouldn't.

Balance.

My motto for 2013. For my mind, my spirit, and my body.

Does anyone else swear by yoga, or even Pilates? Any suggestions for a chubby beginner like me? How has yoga changed your body, and how long before you started noticing results?

Inquiring mind wants to know.

EDIT: At my dear sister's request, a quick update. I failed to mention in this post that SunSpark Yoga, the lovely little studio near the Orange Circle, offers an amazing (and free!) community yoga class on Sunday nights. It's an "all levels" course, and the instructor changes from week to week. I plan on going this weekend, as my interim class before I start my 3-month unlimited stint.

If you're ever in Orange on a Sunday, definitely check it out!

Christmas and Thankfulness

by fashion illustration goddess, Katie Rodgers, via PaperFashion

Thinking of my friends and family, near and far today. I am happy happy happy today, and hoping that everyone is enjoying their Christmas mornings.

It's still the early hours of Christmas, but we all know that the height of the season comes just before the presents are ripped open and the tree's base becomes barren. Mugs are full of hot coffee, breakfast is cooking, and we're slowly making our way towards opening gifts.

The best time of the holiday for me, always.

I've been pretty absent during this last quarter of 2012, but I had to let everyone know...

I love you. I wish we could celebrate today and enjoy the last days before the new year together.

Kiss your loved ones today. Cherish your gifts, and relish if the generosity of others.

Be thankful.

I thank you.

x

Pure Imagination

by Gregory Colbert, via

My cousin, Eli, told me a story once about a pet elephant he kept in his jacket pocket. The elephant was no taller than his thumb. He tried taking this elephant onto an airplane, which was fine until he got onto the plane and at 32,000 feet, the elephant stealthily climbed out of his jacket pocket and started exploring the plane, right over everyone's bags and wadded-up coats. It was an hour before my cousin realized his pet elephant was gone, and had to figure out a way to find him without alerting the entire plane. He didn't want his elephant to get crushed or scared and run off and hide, he'd told me. He got up from his seat by the airplane window and walked to the front of the plane towards the cockpit, turned around and dropped a quarter down the long aisle. He fell to his knees, apologized, and started looking for his quarter -- actually, his pet elephant. I never found out if my cousin had found his elephant, because my mom said dinner was ready.

Eli was five when he told me this story. Not with the same, advanced vocabulary, but the plot went just like that. I was 17, in the middle of writing the play for a high school choir performance, and I remember thinking:

I've never in my conscious life come up with anything remotely as mesmerizing as this.

This wasn't because what he'd said was overly imaginative, but rather it was the ease with which he told the story. It was all about delivery. It wasn't a story to him; it had actually happened, yet I could see the cogs working behind his eyes -- never faltering, stopping only for a moment to think when I'd ask him what happened next. I stared at him like he was an amoeba growing legs. I looked at his mother, my Aunt Julie, and silently pleaded with her to give me some explanation. Was this a story he'd read? Had he seen a miniature elephant on TV? She shook her head, simply. No idea, she said with her eyes.

I'm not very good with kids, and I find myself bored with them easily. I don't like playing or pretending, and I certainly don't like to stop what I'm doing and go out of my way to entertain them...

On the other hand, I love listening to them. Their imaginations fascinate me, and the way they see the world is exquisite. I love asking questions and finding out more. Their lack of filters and their self-assuredness means there is no cap on what they can come up with. They don't concern themselves with what other people will think, or whether their stories and ideas will stand up to someone else's.

It's sad that most kids lose that freedom. I certainly did, that is, assuming I ever had it. I'd like to think I did, and that it's still inside me somewhere, locked away. I'm in such awe of adults to seem to have maintained that level of imagination and confidence. That's the key, I think.

My cousin is 14 now, and I told him this story over Thanksgiving dinner. He, of course, doesn't remember it, and is at that age now where rolling your eyes at everything is the jammiest of jams. He thought it was silly.

Jump Up and Touch the Sky

I know shit-all about music. Really, I know nothing, except what I like when I hear it. I couldn't tell you, from a technical or musical perspective, why I like it. All I know is that if a song is catchy / the lyrics are beautiful / a person's singing voice is top-notch / it makes me wanna dance / makes me wanna jump up and down like a monster, I'm probably going to enjoy it and play it to death.

Sometimes, I just want to play the same three songs on repeat, all day for a few weeks, because they infuse me with energy and fuel my imagination. Sometimes, I just want to imagine that I'm a rock star and smash up furniture.

What's playing now?

I'm glad you asked. (And if you didn't, let's pretend you did.)

The holidays make me tired, and it's the time of year when I'm usually listening to Rufus Wainwright and Norah Jones. Rainy days, gray skies... they lead to lazy day music. The kind where you turn off the lights, pour some red wine, lay on the floor surrounded by pillows and blankets, and play Rufus' "Poses" album over and over again.

It's not very conducive to getting work done.

How about you? Do you have any get-off-your-butt-and-start-moving-you-fat-pig music? Any particular songs that are just too infectious to stay still?

Send 'em my way. I'm itching to break something.

I Missed November

Illustration by Harry Clarke for Edgar Allen Poe, via

I've made a conscious effort to avoid this blog during the last almost-two months, and I've felt only the tiniest twinge of guilt about it. Basically, I needed a hiatus from thinking about the "blog-worthy," and instead focus on some important things going on around here right now. Sometimes "important" has meant cleaning the toilet, finally folding that pile of clothes on the guest bed, cuddling with Ennis, or having long talks with my manlier-half over white wine and tacos. Every time I thought about writing or posting, it seemed forced; instead of forging ahead, I let myself walk away.

I don't know what this blog is, exactly, but whatever it is means—at minimum—it needs to be about the things most important to me in that particular moment. I've worked pretty diligently to not categorize myself, mainly because I am so prone to change my mind, or lose interest. Being a bit of an over-sharer has dictated much of my adult life in relation to the internet, and has proven that I refuse to let there be any subject that I'm forced to avoid for fear of being "off topic." If I eat a delicious bagel, go to Hawai'i, build a daybed, buy a kitten, or covet craft goods, I want to tell you. Because I love you, and that's what friends do.

That being said, I'm learning a bit more about restraint with my honesty. Not everything is worth sharing. I don't mean the hard/intense things, or the small/sometimes boring things. Just things. The stuff that is personal and private, but also insignificant in the long term. It's not about being interesting, but having true interest and passion in what you write and do.

Look 'ma, I'm growing up!

Simply put, I'm interested in finding my true home in this HTML-corner of internet-paradise that I've built, with its crooked windows and slant-y floors. It will take some time and some reflection on my part to make it a haven of comfort—a place that I enjoy and relish in—rather than something I constantly avoid... much like my actual living room, which is in desperate need of a thorough vacuuming.

The holidays are in our midst, and I'm thinking of my friends scattered across the map, all of whom I miss dearly. Let's get together and have some mulled wine or margaritas or whatever else the weather is permitting that day.

New York City Vacation

Beginning the descent into New York, clouds from above

I didn't take a lot of pictures when I went on vacation at the end of June. Strange, because I certainly had the opportunity; I brought my Canon camera with its two fancy lenses, and had my cell phone camera on me nearly the entire time. I'd like to think the reason for not capturing everyone we saw, everything we did, and everywhere we went was because I was just having too much fun to think about it. When I did take pictures, it felt like I was forcing myself. I wanted to have fun instead.

That may be forced thinking, but I stand by it, if for no other reason than there isn't much I can do about the lack of photos I came home with. I can, however, talk about how we spent seven wonderful days exploring, eating, and drinking our way through Brooklyn and Manhattan with friends.

Our last vacation together, Jon and I were completely on our own; no friends to keep us company and break up the monotony. This time was an entirely different experience. Our "home base" was the perfect little apartment of one of my dearest and oldest friends, Jessie, and her photographer boyfriend, Joe. (I have to pimp out his sites, since he's amazing. Here's one of my favorite shots of his, from a trip to Turkey; I'm a little bit obsessed.)

With Jessie and Joe as our guides, it really set the stage for an ideal "local" experience; if these two were the only ones we knew in New York and we had never left Brooklyn at all, it would have been just as incredible of a trip. Needless to say, they were the most gracious hosts with a keen sense of how to embrace debauchery with the utmost care and maturity. We're adults in our late-twenties now, after all.



Admittedly, there was a bit of lounging about. New York doesn't mess around with its humid summers, so Jon and I took advantage of our air conditioned homebase whenever we could; returning to Jessie and Joe's after a half-day of exploring, covered in an aura of city grime, was like Heaven. It was comfortable and relieving.

Did I mention they were fantastic hosts?

Our first day in the city, we had two things on our agenda: eat the corned beef and pastrami on rye with Russian dressing and coleslaw from Katz's Deli ( a must-try after seeing it featured on Adam Richman's "Best Sandwich in America") and explore the Museum of Modern Art.

Left: Monet (top), __ (bottom)

Right: Picasso (top), Picasso (bottom)

I've developed an intense love for Picasso. On paper he never really stood out to me, but seeing his work in person... well, there's been no artist like him ever, has there?

I won't go into boring detail about all of my favorite paintings from the museum like I normally would. There's just too much as it is... I'll just have to assure you that there were some amazing ones that captivated me. Perhaps I'll do a separate post to showcase them, so I don't forget. In exchange, though, here's a huge Monet:



It was drizzly outside, which was a nice reprieve from the heat. We waited Downtown for Jessie to get off work, then went to see a new play reading put on by a small company called Fresh Produce'd in which my dear friends Shannon and Starr were performing. (They were wonderful, as were the scenes showcased from the new plays.)

This is where I become surprised at how many people I know who live in New York.

One of my favorite girls on earth, Alex (henceforth: Gell) joined us for the reading, as did one of Jon's best friends, Lukas. Afterwards, the group of us trekked down 9th Ave to a bar big enough to hold us all, where we proceeded to catch up and drink many over-priced, mediocre cocktails. No matter though. The company was divine. (So far, all of the people I've mentioned in this post—save for Joe—went to UC Santa Barbara, though he did go to school in SB. You following me?) After a while, another dear UCSB friend, Sarah, joined the gathering and it turned into an unexpectedly wonderful ultra-mini-reunion.

Seeing all these girls, many of whom I hadn't seen since graduating four years ago, at the same time was a blast. There's never enough time to catch up. There is, however, always time to be really, really silly.

L-R: Gellner, Sarah, Shannon, Starr, me, Jessie

On Friday, Jessie took the day off of work to show us around the part of Manhattan that in three previous trips I'd never been before, most notably: "Ground Zero," or the site of the 9/11 terrorist attacks.

Jessie planned everything in advance (God bless her), so we were all set to see the recently-opened 9/11 memorial fountains and grounds. Security was crazier than any airport I've been to, but given the circumstances, I can't blame them.

It really was a spectacular sight. The sheer size of the fountains (which represent the original "footprints" of the Twin Towers) was astonishing, and despite the crowd of tourists, I found it to be a very peaceful place.



We spent the rest of the day on the lower west side of the city, walking along the water to see the boat docks, and grabbing lunch at PJ Clarke's on the Hudson where we could eat outside but stay dry and watch the summer rain.

A few glasses of wine at lunch started off the theme of the afternoon and subsequent evening: alcohol and good company. I've never met a happy hour I didn't like.

Drudging through rain and doing my best to admire the cobblestone streets of the West Village, we hurried along the edge of the city and found ourselves in what, I believe, is Jon's new favorite bar: The Rusty Knot, just south of the New School for Drama. It's a kitschy, tiki bar and we arrived just as happy hour got started. Well drinks were 2-for-1 (which meant $4 for two drinks -- a huge difference from their normal pricing), and they were delicious. (If you haven't had a conversation with me about the delicacy of making basic yet high-quality well drinks, then bring me some Maker's Mark and Coke Zero and we'll discuss this over a [dozen] drink[s].)

We stayed at The Rusty Knot, chatting away and watching the fish tank, until the rain cleared up. Then -- not at all drunkenly -- we moseyed up to The Jane Hotel to meet Joe and enjoy far more expensive craft cocktails.

You can't not love the bar at The Jane, despite the $14 cocktails. It's luxurious and open, elegant and very "adult." Jessie told us that this spot was popular with celebrities and the New York City elite -- fancy!

After that, we walked up to The High Line towards the Meatpacking District to a converted warehouse to see the hugely popular play, Sleep No More -- an interactive, 30's-era adaptation of Macbeth. It's hard to explain in words (I didn't know anything about the show before seeing it), but if you're interested in theatre and aren't familiar with it, take a look at this YouTube video to get an idea. (I very much wish I had watched it before going to the show.)

Sleep No More, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth // photo credit: Sara Krulwich for The New York Times

Joe, Jessie, Jon, and I -- hidden behind our masks -- were split up and sent into the "McKittrick Hotel" to explore and follow the story as we discovered it. I caught some great sequences (Macbeth murdering Duncan, for instance, and pregnant Lady Macduff doing a sensuous and beautiful contemporary dance with Macduff), but -- as I found out later -- I missed some pretty bad-ass moments: a nude Lady Macbeth in a bathtub, washing blood off of her body; a dance-tastic rave sequence which featured someone in a ram head; and a finale which showcased Macbeth's hanging, lifeless body.

I was already in the lobby enjoying a Manhattan when everyone else watched the show end. I had wandered and explored and enjoyed it very much, but after 2 1/2 hours, I wasn't sure what else to see. I'd love to go again, this time understanding the need to follow the actors (Macbeth would be the best choice) all the way through, and then eventually move on to someone else.

If you have the chance to go, do it. It's amazing, and a truly unique experience. Just remember to do your research beforehand...

Sleep No More, the Ballroom // photo credit: Sara Krulwich for The New York Times

The next morning I was, err, how do you say it... hungover, just a wee bit. I remember a painful-yet-necessary walk from Jessie and Joe's apartment to Prospect Park to have a picnic and sleep it off relax in the shade. The day was as lovely as a day could be when you feel like your brain is trying to squeeze out through your eyeballs.

On Sunday, we discovered the beauty of the pricier side of Brooklyn -- meeting my good friend, Reynosa, for brunch at Vinegar Hill House in (yep) Vinegar Hill, near D.U.M.B.O. This little restaurant was nestled on the quaintest little street; it was delicious, rustic, totally hipster, and mildly overpriced, which means I loved it. It reminded me of brunch in Seattle, and that's never a bad thing.

Soon after brunch we all parted ways; Jessie and Joe went home, Jon met up with his friend, Lukas, and Reynosa and I wandered around the neighborhood towards the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges, and just chatted about life and work and love. It was a stunning afternoon..




Sunday proved to be the only time I could see my dear old friend, Chris Kong -- who is a wildly talented piano player. He was subbing at Silence! the Musical, a parady of Silence of the Lambs. Jon and I ventured to Hell's Kitchen in Manhattan for dinner and to see the show, which was... ridiculous and funny and weirdly enjoyable. Granted, I likely would have found it even funnier if I'd... you know... seen the full movie before. (Don't judge me.) The best part was that it featured cutie-pie, Randy Harrison, of "Queer as Folk" fame, so I couldn't have hated it even if I wanted to.

Afterwards Chris showed us his fancy Mid-Town condo, which was so perfectly Chris, and I marveled at the horrifying thought of living that close to Times Square.

I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it.



The last few days of our trip, we rode the Metro, explored, and enjoyed spending time with our New York friends.

We visited Reynosa to see her apartment in Bed-Stuy and have lunch with her at a great little soul food spot, Maggie Brown, before she started work in Clinton Hill. We braved the heat and humidity to have Happy Hour with Starr and Jessica, catching up after far too many years of interacting only on Facebook. We met up with Gellner and her boyfriend, Chris, at The Grey Dog in Union Square for brunch, then ventured back to Brooklyn to see her apartment and grab a pint in Park Slope while gossiping about Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson's scandalous break up. We ate an incredible meal with Jessie and Joe at their favorite local spot, Lot 2, where Jon had the most delicious hamburger either of us have ever tasted.

Lots of food. Lots of friends. Is there a better way to spend vacation?

I wish we'd had more time to just relax with Jessie and Joe at their apartment and around their little sliver of Brooklyn. Maybe one more weekend dedicated just to that. I wish I could join them every once in a while after a hard day's work, grab two slices of pizza at Luigi's Pizza and enjoy the meal alongside a craft cocktail (or four) at Quarter Bar down the street. I wish I could meet Jessie on Saturday mornings at Southside Coffee for iced coffee, quiche, and very important gossip.

I miss being part of a neighborhood, like we had in Seattle, with access to a never-ending menu of restaurants, bars, and coffee shops, and walking distance to friends. Old Towne Orange isn't bad -- we're lucky to have some great spots around here -- but there's no one close by.

All in all, it was an amazing vacation. It's taken me over two months to finally get it all down, but I forgive myself. This time.

Anyone have any favorite spots in New York? Someplace, maybe, I should put on my list for next time?