Cause the Best Thing about New York City is

you and me.

I'll Drink of Anything to Make this World Look New Again

Listening to the Gin Blossoms Lost Horizons for the first time in decades.

Rminds me of home. Of wheat fields, Bogey's shakes - John Flack's car with the super small backseat, driving past golf courses . . . hanging out with Jamie Johnson and dreaming up wonderful futures for us and loving the fast-passing moments of the present.

It makes my heart full.

It also tempts me to immediately buy a ticket to wherever you are, James, and stay up too late drinking (Hawiian Punch, anyone?) and talking and remembering what it was like when the world held such possibility and love and hope.

And sharing our new version of it.

Living the Dream

He taught me that if I put pennies on the train track and was very patient they would double in size.

He patiently had "tea" with me in small plastic cups.

He sat in the back of the truck with me on family vacations and ALWAYS ate the extra burgers in the sack.

He snuck me candy.

He laughed at me.

He pointed to planes and told me someday he'd be flying them, just like the guys in the movies.

He was nine years my elder and my hero.

And when I stood next to him in my home, on the corner of 42nd and Broadway a couple weeks ago, none of that had changed for me. Not in the decades since we've seen each other, in the lifetimes that have passed.

He'll always be that guy I feel infinitely proud to be related to, infinitely blessed that he would take the time to hang with his so much younger, so much different "baby cousin."

And as I introduced him to my husband, as we walked through my city streets - pointing out my work, my neighborhood . . . where I've made my home: it felt so right that he would finally get to meet me all over again. See my life. I wanted to so desperately for him to see I had done well - grown up okay.

And as we sat in Serafina and caught up, as best we could over lunch, it felt as if no time had passed at all. I felt sheer joy a couple times when he had mentioned us going to Yellowstone one summer - as if confirming somehow all my memories were real. After so long apart, it almost felt as if they were just stories in my mind.

And then, the best part - to hear him talk of flying; of his job, what he does now every day.

Which, of course, is everything he once told the smallest version of me he would do. I remember watching planes fly across the sky, trying to imagine him in them - and now, knowing that is exactly what's happening? It could not have filled me with more sheer happiness.

As we walked to the train station to say goodbye, he slowed a bit and said we had done it.

Done what?

We're living the dreams, now, aren't we? And doesn't it feel good?

And my world came into such sharp focus. Suddenly the kids in the back of that truck and the adults we are now stood side by side. All their dreams wrapped up in wishes and hopes at the time, staring at skies and pictures and maps . . .

All that real now. All that as real as we are, standing in Times Square. He going home to fly a plane, me to my apartment 10 minutes from Central Park.

Yes, it feels good. It's feels wonderful and amazing and right.

And even better? Looking into his eyes and knowing he feels it all too. That patient ornery boy I looked up to knows it, too.

The amazing feeling of finally getting to live your dream.

I'm so glad I got to share that with him all these years later.

Catching up

SO, I'm behind. Behind in everything, it seems. So I'm trying to catch up here, then everywhere else.

But I've made myself some promises lately, and with the help of my friend Mikki who's supporting me every step of the way even when she's SICK of hearing me complain, and Sam who's forced to join me by proximity - I'm Living Healthy (TM).

With everything getting so busy and hectic I found myself just feeling worse and worse. I was tired, I was sick, everything hurt. . . and I decided I didn’t' want that for myself.

I mean SERISOULY I'm living in New York City with the love of my life in a good job with great friends and I don't feel good? That sucks. Especially when I can try to change it - so change it I am. (With much as stated above, MUCH support.)

First was following the diet my doctor told me would help combat the Fibromyalgia. No white sugar, no white flour, lean meats, no caffeine.

Um, you can see why up until now this seemed like only a good idea in THEORY to me. Seriously, do you know what's left to eat? Well, there's still stuff, but the list most notably does NOT include pasta, ice cream, chocolate or any of the yummy things I love. Sam, Mikki, and my friend Chris assure me it gets better - but it's been two weeks now and I'm still a little bitter about what I'm eating.

It will get better.

That was my mantra every time we ate out this weekend and I had salad when everyone else had DESSERT.

Baklava, people. Rice pudding. I PASSED. I said "No, thank you" in my most polite voice while being very very angry inside. I want Baklava. I *heart* rice pudding!

But alas. I've made promises and if there's one thing I'm more devoted to than dessert, it's keeping my word, dammit. Though "my word" sure doesn't taste as yummy.

I'm also taking yoga twice a week and going to the gym in the mornings with Sam. (Okay that happened once, but I'm making it a habit! I am!)

I tried "hot yoga" with Mikki last week, but that's an entry all to itself. Needless to say it was a one-time experience.

Anyway, part of my Summer of the Pirate Queen," (don't ask) is making myself happy in the midst of all this - and that's where this blog comes in. I'm no writer, but I do love to write - so you'll be seeing me here more often. Hopefully, I'll have good stuff to say.

But if I don't? That's okay too. I've promised to be less judgmental of myself as well. And that might be the hardest thing of all . . . .

Whirlwind

It feels like summer is already flying by at a whirlwind pace. We have friends coming to visit on a regular basis and small trips to be taken and plans to be made and concerts to attend, and man! it's all going to be so fun.

And then there's fall, with the birthdays and more small trips and a NEW birthday to happen and THEN our trip to Asia.

This year is slipping through my fingers faster than I can close them and try to hold on.

We bought our tickets yesterday for Asia. Our itinerary will be as follows: Hong Kong, Bangkok, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Pangkor Laut, Penang, Phuket, Hong Kong.

Speaking of doing a lot in a little time! Though we will be gone for almost three weeks. I can't even REMEMBER the last time I had three weeks off with absolutley nothing to do. High school, maybe?

So I'm filled with excitement, about so much. Time is moving quickly but in the absolute best of ways . . . .
pictures are of our garden

Defining the start of summer

Ninth Avenue International Food Festival and Street Fair

Train rides to the beach

Coney Island Mini-golf

Gelatto on the corner for a dollar in dixie cups

Baseball games at Shea

Picnics in the garden

Sandals to break in

BBQ, potato salad, roasted corn on the cob

Mr. Softy Vanilla Cones dipped in Cherry

Weekly trips to the farmers' market



New sassy hairdo





What signifies the beginning of your summer?

Ninth Ave. International Food Fest

So last weekend was one of greatness. I smiled so hard, so often my cheeks were sore striaght into Monday.

And the best part? We spent all of it surrounded with amazingly good friends. Most notably, John H. was in town and spent Saturday afternoon wandering the Ninth Avenue International Food Festival with Sam, Nathan and I. It was wonderful to get to catch up, share news of our lives and the mutual friends we've kept up with . . . and, well, eat amazing food as we traversed 37th thru 57th streets.

Good times.

John was determined to fully experience the fair, and I have to give him props - he did us proud. (Even stopping at a booth that sold, why yes - it says it - stuffed CABBAGE. That's not what he got, however, just to put your mind at ease . . .)

Nathan caught up with us and joined the adventure, and you can see in this pic how very happy I am about that.

A bag of zeppelies was purchased and devoured, though even in their utter deliciousness, we couldn't bring ourselves to eat the whole bag . . .

Sam and Nathan lovingly shared some chocolate covered strawberries . . .

And the NAIFF delivered once again. Delicious food and some great, great company. Despite the sprinkles of rain, we had ourselves one awesome afternoon.


And, John? Come on 'a our house anytime. It was FABULOUS having you . . . .

Song Tuesdays

You turn a blue eye to me and you look right through me
You said define what you think freedom means... if you want freedom
We can wake up this lullaby town
Burn through every red light I found
Lift a dust cloud
Break the speed of sound...
you could break free

It's amazing, is it not? How a song, no matter how long it's been since you have heard it - can immediately take you to a moment in time so clear and real it's as if it's happening all over again? As if it's no longer three, or five or ten years since the past. It's like a fresh breeze hitting me at the corner of ninth and forty-ninth, transporting me in milliseconds and miles to a Kansas plain.

It can bring tears to my ears and a smile to face like nothing else.

I remember the first time I heard Ellis Paul's song "Take All the Sky You Need."

I sat on a green slope of a hill, skirt billowing around me, head on Sam's shoulder watching boats slip by on the Hudson. It was within the first month of him moving to New York and we had traveled to the Clearwater Music Festival up-river, while most of our mutual friends had traveled west to the Smokey Hill. It was the first of many trips we would take separate, just the two of us, when it seemed everyone else was going elsewhere.

It was beautiful that day. There was one cloud on the sky. One clear, defined cloud, as if drawn by the spirits in mocking reminisce of a comic book. It floated directly above a tree in front of us, and there was a stage to our left - filled with a regular rotation of musicians. All of whom I would whisper as they began "He/She's my favorite."

But then Ellis Paul started to play. And I had never heard him before, but I immediately loved him. And what’s' more, when he came to the song "Take All the Sky You Need" - I immediately had to own it.

If you want to run I'll pack my suitcase
If you want to stay I'll make a front door key
And if you need space... to fly... free
Take all the sky you need

I never took falling in love or marriage very seriously. That summer was crazy for me, Sam and I creating a home together. I had never planned on sharing my home, really. Never thought it would work. I was fiercely independent, tied to my ways. I had plans, I had hopes. Sharing involved the dreaded "compromise." I could not. Would not.

Then, suddenly, I was looking up at deer antlers hanging on my bedroom wall.

And I knew, *I KNEW* that this all wasn't easy for Sam either. Sam the traveler, the gypsy. Who had equally set up his life, his ways.

Our lives had collided in a small 350 sq foot apartment just weeks before. In a surprisingly smooth manner. Oh, I had my breakdown. My sitting in the closet amongst boxes in tears over there NOT BEING ENOUGH ROOM FOR US BOTH. Calling Jan, frightened I had made a horrible horrible mistake.

That thought lasted about five minutes. An hour later we were already planning trips. Trips down to Florida, across the oceans, up the Hudson.

I stand on the rooftops; I look down on my story
And it swallows me
Beyond the horizon, the taillights, the glories,
Will you follow me?
(Freedom) I need to know who I am
(Freedom) I'm like a moth in your hand
(Sweet freedom) do I fly or stand?
Or fall on my knees?

And when I heard that song, sitting at the edge of the Hudson that day, I knew what my life would be like from that moment on. How I felt about Sam and I being together. What it would take, and what I was willing to give. It was like listening to our story, watching it wrap around that tree and head up straight to that crazy looking cloud.

In the beautiful, beautiful, clear blue sky.


If you want to run I'll pack my suitcase
If you want to stay I'll make a front door key
And if you need space... to fly... free
Take all the sky you need

Anxious and Excited

I'm awaiting anxiously for news today from Sam about something. . . it feels like Christmas eve as a child when you can barely think about anything else and people actually expect you to SLEEP, only people shall expect me to WORK.

*sigh*

Will let you share in the excitement as soon as I can.

~

Updated: Sam and I leave for a Southeast Asian Tour in November!

Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand and China here! we! come!!!

This is the resort we shall stay in for a couple days. *le sigh*

Cinco, a week late

So Sam and I headed off to Chelsea on Saturday to meet Mikki and Bazi for dinner and drinks in celebration of pastry. (Some sort of pastry war is involved in Sam's story of why we celebrate Cinco - it sounds remarkably legit , though I could not properly retell . . . )

Mikki planned it all out for us, making reservations and all. And I must say, it was FABOO. The food was delicious, and it instantly made me want to do some research on how to make some good mexican food at home.

The drinks were nice too.



Mikki and Bazi were, as always, great company. "Great company" in our vernacular meaning inappropriate dinner conversation, multiple rounds of drinks and copious decadent dessert ordering.



When we finished our awesome dinner, we decided to walk uptown back to Hell's Kitchen, and I have to say the night could not have been more perfect.



I mean, yes, sure, the weather was nice. The sun sat beautifully behind Jersey . . . but what made the night so perfect was the awesome, ghetto-tastic STREET CARNIVAL we happened upon.

Not just a street FAIR, mind you. a CARNIVAL.

With death-trap rides, fixed games and men stirring batter with which to fry every known food with their BARE ARMS.

It was trashy trashy trashy and we got inordinately excited about it. We weren't one booth in before some toothless carney got Mikki throwing darts to win a prize.






Bazi carefully picked through all the darts in the box and coached Mikki on her throw, while the old toothless man did his own coaching. It was hilarious.



But totally worth it. Twenty bucks later Mikki one herself a real fine fuzzy yellow bear.

Alas, I fell prey five booths down. But! Being the kickass team Mikki and I are, together we managed to dart enough balloons (um, aka spend more money) to upgrade to a new! better! even more fabulous! trashy prize.



Are you jealous yet? Ha. I'd like to point out Mikki gave our faboo prize to a small very sticky boy as we exited the carnival. He was crazy excited, so perhaps it wasn't quite as trashy as we thought.

Or, um, this kid's standards weren't too high.

Either way. We: too much money spent at carnival. Him: No money spent, fabulous prize.

It all worked out.

-------------------------------------------------------
*Updated to be fair and honest about our nightly activities because my husband wants you to know how it all ended*

We did eventually make it back to th Bell Stiers nighborhood bar, The Gaf.

Where again, we tested our darts expertise. Bazi and Sam were a team, Mikki and I (in preperation for the eventual unleashing of the Free Radicals (TM) were the other.







Sadly, Mikki and I fared no better at the bar. We lost. Twice.



But it was still a super fun night. And, regardless of our problems with consistency - Mikki and I both had true moments of brilliance. We'll get 'em next time.

*end of update*
-------------------------------------------------------

Tears

"You should be more judicious about what you choose to shed tears over."

He said it condescendingly. Patronizing. Mockingly.

He didn't understand that injustice against another human being, no matter how slight, was something I took issue with. Of course, he had to make it small, because he was small. A small selfish man with expensive suits and fancy shoes; with catered morning breakfasts and hired cars to take him home at night. The comment infuriated me. It was meant to sound, I think, like a peace offering of some sort. A careful reminder we were on the same team somehow. But it was exceedingly hollow. It only showed how far apart we are.

A chasm I'm not willing to cross.

I fight the tears. They come most easily when I'm mad; and here, in this place, they tease the corners of my eyes often (but rarely escape). I see them as a weakness. As a girl-ey thing to do. I feel they seem a sign I am to be taken lightly, treated as a child. That I am incapable of controlling something as small as a tear. A microscopic collection of salt water.

But that evening it changed. Something in me changed. With that one comment he turned all the things I feared about shedding those tears upside down. I suddenly became proud I was "so easily brought to tears."

It meant I still cared. I still knew what was important. I still had retained, through all the madness and politics and game-playing, myself. My core values.

I had not been caught up: I had been let down.

And as much as that hurt, it felt good, too. I'm not afraid to hold this sword in my hand. And I'm less afraid to raise it. And will - time after time, moment after moment. Even if lifting it brings tears to my eyes. They embarrass me not at all now.

A blog is nothing but Self-Indulgent

I've been letting a lot of other people define me lately. With their assumptions, with their actions - with what they're not saying. I've let my own insecurities make me feel less; less deserving, less talented . . . worth less.

And today I reached my limit.

It felt good. It reminded me of who I want to be, who I am. What I'm capable of. What I deserve.

I put "Take Me or Leave Me" on my headphones on repeat and ran. And ran. And ran. I put the speed much higher than normal and I went as fast as I could. My lungs burned and my side ached. My knee and ankles, my hips felt broken - but I kept going. Because I finally felt in control. I finally dropped all the things I thought people wanted, what I thought was expected of me, and I just went back to me. Feet pounding on the treadmill, breath burning.

I threw away all the baggage that had blinded me to what I want and what I'm willing to accept. I focused on what was important.

And when I got off, shakey and sore, I was ready to face the world again.

On my own terms.

And so . . .

Dear Sir and/or Madams,

I'm afraid in our dealings you have forgotten some very important facts. I have decided to write it all down, lest you miss or forget them again. And to remind myself. It's obvious we both have some recollection issues.

I am a talented and smart designer. Try finding that - it's hard. I have 9 years experience in an industry that is a mere 15 years old. And that's giving it a couple years' credit.

I am a damn good presenter. I am well-spoken and well-read. I will as easily discuss the latest Wired with you as Neruda or Nietzsche.

I am, while not model beautiful, striking when I want to be. And will as easily strike if I feel something important to me threatened.

I can make sure you remember me for a long time to come, and will do so on my own terms.

I am an artist. My painting is rusty, yet still very much not an amatuer's doing. My writing's not perfect, but I can hit the right tone and combination of words from time to time and pull a compelling story out of the air around me.

I can and will affect you. I am no small thing. I am no meager asset, nor a person to be tossed aside or undermined.

I love with ferocity. I do so unflinchingly and unwaveringly.

I try to live in the same manner.

I am starting again.

Right.

Now.

I am taking from this world what I deserve. I suggest you stand aside. I'm in no mood to apologize, and nor shall I.

Not anymore.

Beautifully Written

" . . . .We do not rely solely upon science and reason, because these are necessary rather than sufficient factors, but we distrust anything that contradicts science or outrages reason. We may differ on many things, but what we respect is free inquiry, openmindedness, and the pursuit of ideas for their own sake.

. . .We are not immune to the lure of wonder and mystery and awe: we have music and art and literature, and find that the serious ethical dilemmas are better handled by Shakespeare and Tolstoy and Schiller and Dostoyevsky and George Eliot than in the mythical morality tales of the holy books. Literature, not scripture, sustains the mind and—since there is no other metaphor—also the soul. " - Slate: God is Not Great

Go read it, I agree wholly with what Sam said about it - "I could not have written it better."

For anyone who wonder what spirituality is like in our home, or what the Church of Sam must be like, I figure this is a good introduction.

I'd love to hear what you think of it. . .

How did I know I wanted to Marry Sam?

In answer to your Question, Karen. :)

09.01.2001
I don't know, exactly. It was like a million small things suddenly adding up to something big.

I met him at a James Taylor concert, and found an ally in him the next morning as he and I were the only ones (out of the tens sprawled across the various beds, couches, and floors of my house) that had to get up and go to jobs.

When I saw him a week later in Salina at Carrie and Joe's wedding I thought he was handsome, and kind. The kids followed him like a piper, he drank like a sailor, and laughed like a clown. That was enough alone to make me pause. But Carrie and Jamie were desperately throwing him and another of our friends together, so I let it alone.

Weeks later he showed up at Sarah and I's first ever S&M Birthday Bash. We drank way too much, danced just the right amount and stayed out in the parking lot talking until I almost didn't have time to catch my 6am flight to LA.

So initially he made good impressions. I was attracted to him for sure. He was funny, he loved to travel and actually DID . . he had a "real" job, he had plans . . . . Really I fought so long against being with him because he was so intensely intertwined with all my friends from home. I mean, he was FAMILY to Joe and Carrie.

And that, well, that was the major strike. I didn't want a relationship that was meddling and gossip fodder. I didn't want a relationship that wasn't just me and him. And I wasn't sure that would be possible. It freaked me out more than a little. So whenever there was an opportunity to keep him at arm's length, I did. Even after we started flying thousands of miles back and forth to see each other.

I wish I could point to the moment everything changed, but the thing is, I think I always knew he was it. There was a moment at Carrie and Joe's wedding where I looked through my camera lens and saw him dancing - having a wonderful, fantastic time - and I shot it. This pic of him strutting toward me, arms outstretched, ornery look on his face . . . I remember seeing that photo later and not being able to get him out of my head.

There was just something about him.

I knew. I just knew he was going to be something important in my life. I just wasn't sure what.

But that's different than knowing we'd get married. I hoped for it. Not even that long after he first came to visit me in New York, Memorial Day weekend 2002.

But we took a trip to Pennsylvania in December of that year, and that - that is when I knew I wanted to marry him. For sure, no doubts. We went to a wedding where we knew no one but the bride and groom, out of the five hundred people there - and had a blast. He carried me up three flights of stairs to our hotel room cause my feet hurt so much from all the dancing . . . we drove into Pittsburgh and ate at Denny's and watched football games and did totally normal stuff and I realized then that that's what I wanted: totally normal stuff. With him.

And we decided that weekend he would move to New York. He never made me feel bad about wanting to stay here. About never entertaining even the THOUGHT of going to Chicago. We talked about what neighborhood might be nice, what furniture we would have, we acted the fools in a photo booth, we went and saw "Big Fish."

I remember sitting in the theatre holding his hand knowing we were about to start creating our own strange and wonderful stories. And it felt good. Really good.

It felt like home. And has ever since.

Karen did this with her blog

And it was wonderful. I answered the questions for her and she did for me and it was awesome. And its been way fun to read her answers for other people, too. So cool!

It reminded me that sometimes we should take the time to tell each other why we started. Why we continue, even when the road gets bumpy. Today is an anniversary of sorts, and I have always held it dear to make sure I told those I love, that well, I love them, SO many things can change in an instant.

Reading Karen's answers for me took me back years and brought so fresh to my heart that lifetime ago when we met. And reminded me, that even though things have been crazy in all the time since, why I believe we will always be friends.

True friends, somehow, despite ourselves. :)

1. Tell you why I friended you.
2. Associate you with something - a song, a color, a photo, etc.
3. Tell you something I like about you.
4. Tell you a memory I have of you.
5. Associate you with a character.
6. Ask something I've always wanted to know about you.
7. Tell you my favorite user picture of yours.
8. In return, you must post this in your LJ.

SO play along! Post your answers and I'll post mine. It'll be fun, I swear.

It's Perfect Outside Right Now

Sam just texted me to tell me he just caught his first foul ball (at a game I was supposed be sitting next to him at).

I'm working.


I have nothing additional or good to say further about that.

So instead, I'm sharing pics of places I'd RATHER be.


With baby turtles.

Near the ocean.

In fact . . .
I actually PREFER Hell to this.

But enough whining. I have to finish up and then clean our apartment for guests. I know despite a few missed weekends and beautiful days - what I do is awesomely fun and useful. And appreciated. I'm a lucky girl.

But you already knew that.

Virginia

It's all over the news, people crying, being carried, running.

This morning on Good Morning America they interviewed the campus reverand (priest?) and asked him what one sentence he found comforting. He fought back tears and said "God is here, God is here." He lacked conviction when he said it, though you could tell he said it with great faith, great hope. Because perhaps faith and hope are all that's left in those kinds of situations.

I can't relate to the fear, the sheer terror that must have swept across that campus yesterday. My life has been resoundingly safe and steady. I cannot imagine the sheer magnitude of loss, the tipping of the scales into a deep void where uncertainty waits, sadness looms and fear dominates.

But I have walked across a campus filled with despair and loss and it's a feeling I will never shake. Ours was a small, close campus. Our loss was merely one.

And yet.

I remember the strange silence that followed in the coming days. The obvious absences from classes, the stoic and awkward presences in them. I remember hundreds not knowing what to say, and tens reaching out for anything. Any comfort at all. Standing looking down into that void.

A dear friend of mine was touched by the loss, in a way I'll never be able to fully know. She looked at me, as dusk fell in our plaza under a giant palm tree and asked with a look in her eyes I'll never forget - will it ever get better? WIll it stop hurting?

And I wanted to say yes. I wanted to give her a timetable, a date. A place she could look forward to getting when all this would be past. When the heartbreak would cease: when things would feel safe again.

But I couldn't.

And that is when my heart broke. That is why now, watching those students on the television breaks my heart still. I don't know what their worlds will be like in the coming years, in the coming decades. I don't know what this world holds for them. I just know that I hope for them what I hoped for my friend all those years ago.

It may never stop hurting, the loss may never be less. But over time the joys mean more, the laughter becomes more precious. And that somehow makes it easier. Over time, that all somehow brightens the darkness.

25 Things

My friend, Jen, just started her own official blogger page. (Well, not *just* - I was late to the game as I never check myspace. But I just did and she listed her new blog and, well, all this rambling is basically me saying "yay! jen! welcome!)

Someone should fine me for how I just typed all that out up there. *sigh*

ANYway. As I was catching up on Jen's entries I noticed she did a list about herself, and I loved reading it as I'm just getting to know her, and think she's the coolest. It was fun learning new stuff about her. I figured maybe it'd be fun to make my own list. And so I shall - because a blog is nothing but self-indulgent, right? Here we go.

25 Things About Me

• I'm an incredibly loyal, yet sadly often-absent friend. I hate the phone with a passion, and sometimes refuse to answer its ring for days.


• I hate tomatoes and refuse to eat them. I will spend inordinate amounts of time picking them out of my food. However, I love bruchetta, salsa and ketsup.


• I was born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I only lived there two years. I have always instinctively thought of the ocean as home.


• I cannot stand the mere thought, let alone actual sight of, the insides of eyes. So much so that I have never put my contacts in anywhere near a mirror. It skeezes me out.


• I have two modes: excessively compulsively clean or total slob.


• My talent is art and design. I firmly believe this a just a skill anyone can learn. I just got lucky with natural instinct.


• I have always and will always wish I had a musical talent. I want nothing in the world more than to be able to sing. Well.


• I'm thinking of taking Irish fiddle courses this fall. Or Gaelic. Or step class. I want to prove to myself I can learn something new.


• I'm a good dancer. A better cook. A decent horse-rider.


• I want to dye my hair purple, for reals.


• My favorite dessert of all time is slow-churned vanilla bean ice cream with Hershey's chocolate syrup. Hands down, by miles. Nothing fancy for me.


• I always cry after the first act. The one time I didn't - I walked out of the show.


• I have a secret wish to write a book someday and have it published.


• I compulsively use the semi-colon. I have no real grammatical and editorial knowledge at all.


• I feel like I should long for a house in the suburbs with a yard. I really just want a two-bedroom on the Hudson.


• I always cry after someone sings the national anthem. No matter how angry I am with the government.


• If we have a boy I want to name him Wylie after my grandfather. A girl, after "Jack" from Jack and the Beanstalk. I want them to have a strong, interesting names. I will not ever call her "Jackie."


• I devour books like water. When I'm not engrossed in one, I feel off kilter. When I find a good one I'm hard pressed to do anything but finish it.


• I get sick, on average, once a week. I get horribly angry at people who take their health for granted. This often means getting angry at myself. I'm trying to be better about this.


• I won't eat red meat, except for McDonald's cheeseburgers and chicken fried steak sandwiches. Both of which I crave fairly regularly.


• I want to be brave and adventurous. In reality, I'm a huge scaredy cat.


• I've met a presidential candidate, a Russian tycoon, and Jay-Z. One of them thought I was hot and said so.


• I don't believe I'll ever not feel like the awkward, nerdy, uncool 12 year old I once was.


• I can watch the world pass for hours and never get bored.


• The best decision I ever made was to invite this man to come on up and see me sometime in New York City, the night before I moved there.

What I've been up to

Or at least part of it. Miniscule part. But fun to share.

Mikki*s Scientific Lunch

Mikki*s Scientific Lunch