2012 Catch-up: Atlantic/Pacific

A lot of things happened in 2012, particularly in the latter half of the year, and I barely wrote about any of it! So for the next few days (weeks?) I'm going to catch up on a few of the stuff I missed last year--and clean off my camera card while I'm at it.  Happy New Year, all! 

August was a weird month. 

I was off swimming in this during our annual family vacation... 

Edisto Island, SC

...and the next week I was dipping my toes in this: 

Holly and Lucky

We had an unusual Christmas this year.

For one thing, it was the first without my sister, who was spending her first Christmas with her husband's family. But even that was sort of forgotten, because this will forever be remembered as The Christmas We Unexpectedly Acquired Two Dogs.

Let me back up.

Photo Wednesday: Three Rivers

At the end of May, my family convened in Pennsylvania to celebrate my cousin Daniel's high school graduation, including an amazing dinner at the Monterey Bay Fish Grotto atop Pittsburgh's Mount Washington. The views of the city couldn't have been better.

City of bridges

Heinz Field, home of our beloved Steelers

Sparkly! (PNC field on the left, where a Pirates game was taking place)

So this happened...

My sister got married, ya'll.

It was awesome and beautiful and fun. The weather was perfect.

West Virginia State Capitol Building

Time is wastin', time is walkin'

The Locomotion (Kylie Minogue version) 

Kylie Minogue releases her cover of the old favorite the year I'm in kindergarten. Day after day, we build small "stages" with the wooden blocks in our classroom and use the short, round, dowel-like sticks as microphones. None of us know what "locomotion" is, but the song sure is catchy.

Baby Baby (Amy Grant) 
During our summer visits, my sister and cousins and I choreograph elaborate dances in their music room, and it is very hush-hush--NO GROWNUPS ALLOWED. One afternoon, as we're rocking out to Amy Grant, I spot a tiny red light at the top of the stairs leading into the room. Our aunt is lying on her stomach in the dark, secretly videotaping our antics. We shriek and yell, and she laughs and laughs. 

Time (Hootie and the Blowfish) 

The concept of "wingman" has not yet been introduced to us, but I find myself in that role at the seventh grade dance. My friend is dancing with Brad, on whom she has a tremendous crush, and I am forced to take one for the team to dance with his friend Chris. Both of us are less than thrilled at this development and we are the definition of awkwardness, hands on hips and shoulders, arms locked at the elbows, shuffling reluctantly from foot to foot. I think to myself that this is the worst song EVER for a slow dance. When the music mercifully ends, I am furious with my friend, not only because I had to dance with Chris, but because she has nearly ruined Hootie and the Blowfish for me.

I Swear (All-4-One) 

In effort to hold our attention amidst the marches and waltzes, our sixth-grade band director programs All-4-One's current hit on our spring concert. It opens with a big trumpet solo, performed by JS, with whom I am in the midst of a tumultuous, on-again-off-again "relationship." (Though we are "going out," we rarely acknowledge each other in public and endure incessant teasing by his six-year-old-sister.) My 11-year-old heart finds it impossibly romantic, as if he is playing the song just for me. (Years later, I tell him this story, and he laughs so hard that he nearly sprays soda through his nose.)

Half Moon Rising (Yonder Mountain String Band) 

Sophomore year of college, I meet a guy who grew up an hour from my hometown--the closest of anyone I've met so far at school. Because I am, in his view, woefully ignorant of "good" bands, he makes me piles of mix CDs full of music from the sublime to the, um, less sublime. But between before-he-was-famous Jason Mraz and Kalai (and, randomly, some old-school George Michael), he slips in this anthem to the mountains where we grew up. It reminds me of home, and I listen to it over and over and over.

Livin' on a Prayer (Bon Jovi) 

The Bon Jovi concert is winding down, and G is on the edge of a righteous fit -- they have not played her song. But finally, as the unmistakable chords begin, the crowd -- and G -- figure out what's coming. Twenty-thousand people belt the chorus to Livin' on a Prayer at the tops of their lungs, and it is without question a religious experience of its own kind.


**Thanks to Alice for the post idea.

Things that happened this weekend

I did my taxes.

I read the entirety of the first Hunger Games book, which was seriously excellent.

The Steelers won the AFC Championship and are going to the Super Bowl, HELL YEAH, leading to a flurry of text messages amongst the family and a discussion with my 18-year-old cousin about the extreme attractiveness of coach Mike Tomlin.

 

My sister got engaged!  That actually happened Friday night, but I wasn't allowed to talk about it. But it's Facebook-official now, so word is out.  No date is set yet, but--combined with the other two weddings already on my calendar--it's gearing up to be The Year of the Wedding: Redux. Stay tuned!

Waiting

It's nearly 6pm. After a day of baking, wrapping, listening to Lessons and Carols from Kings College, Cambridge, and not getting out of pajamas (save for a last-second run to the grocery store--mayday! where are the tomatoes for the minestrone soup?!), we're in the quiet hours before everything begins.

It's our usual Christmas Eve routine. Dad is at the church for the early family service. Mom and G are napping.  In an hour or so, Dad will get home, we'll have our traditional Christmas Eve supper of soup, salad, and bread, and we'll get dressed for the church--my favorite service, my favorite two hours of the whole year.

But for now, it's quiet in the house. The presents are wrapped. The fire is lit. The table is set. We're ready.

Merry Christmas to all of you!

How I spent my summer vacation

Home sweet beach house

View from the porch

Sun, sand, somethin' to read

Stormy weather

Sebastian?

Pity the fool who tries to breach those defenses.  (We did not build this.)

Cousin Caroline came down for the day from Charleston.

No caption needed

Beach. Books. (Battlestar Galactica.)

Last night, I commenced my official pre-beach countdown, because as of next Sunday evening, that is where I will be for a week, along with my parents, grandparents, G, and G’s boyfriend Ryan.   It can’t come soon enough. 

For many people, a week at the beach includes activities like spending hours in the sun, perhaps some fishing, maybe the consumption of quantities of frosty beverages.  Mom, Grandma, and G usually have some sort of project going on—painting or necklace-making or knitting or what-have-you.  My dad and my grandfather nap a lot.  As Dad says, “The biggest decision I have to make today is whether I should read now and nap later, or nap now and read later.”  Many books are read.  Many games of Michigan rummy are played.  Many of Dad's made-to-order milkshakes are consumed.

I, however, take the reading thing to a whole other level.  The whole point of the beach is to see how many books I can devour in a week, and a highlight of my summer is the careful cultivation of my beach-reading pile, stocked through leisurely ambles through the stacks at the library and the perusal of summer reading lists compiled by everyone from the New York Times to NPR to Entertainment Weekly to Glamour.  Unless Harry Potter is involved (or, God help me, A Suitable Boy), I tend to average one book a day. 

As such, I’ve been assembling on my beach-reading pile for the last two weeks, requesting books from the library; monitoring waiting lists in the hopes that the 17 other people in D.C. who are ahead of me on the list for The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake will, I don’t know, get tired of waiting and buy it (which I refuse to do) or for SOMEONE to return How Did You Get This Number, because I’ve been #1 on the waiting list for three weeks; perusing the catalog for audio books on cassette (because Lola is old school and doesn’t have a CD player) for the endless hours on I-81.  But that’s necessary when I spend an entire week moving from here...

… to here … 

... to here … 

...to here … 

... to here. 

Usually with this ...

or this.

It is glorious. 

Anyway, suffice to say that the countdown has begun, the book pile currently numbers 11, and I’m itching to load up Lola and hit the road.  Unless… does anybody know of a flight from D.C. to Charleston, SC that doesn’t cost $500?  Or some frequent flyer miles that they’d like to unload?  Because that would be excellent, too.

Heartbreak hotel

I was home in Tennessee for Easter this weekend.  It was delightful and relaxing, but also a bit odd because I was sleeping in the guest bedroom with my sister.  My grandparents are currently staying with my parents as my grandfather recovers from his knee replacement, and they are occupying both my old room and G's.  So we were in the guest room, and G's boyfriend was on the air mattress in the den, and WOW, that made for a whole lot of showers to coordinate on Easter morning.  Also, G and I are not the most amiable co-sleepers, AND she had a cold, so that was interesting.

The big event of the weekend, though (aside from Jesus, you know, rising from the dead, which is a notable event, and also my acquisition of the Most Awesome Red Shoes Ever--pictures to come!), was the West Virginia/Duke Final Four game.  And since four of the seven of us LIVE in the great state of West Virginia, there were, shall we say, some emotions about how the game went.

It didn't go well, in case you missed it.  It was pretty tragic. And so we all desperately wanted Butler to win the championship on Monday night.  Which they didn't. 

But that's okay.  It was a beautiful weekend, and we ate many eggs and large quantities of jelly beans, and I bought shoes, and a good time was had by all.  The end.

Two faces in the crowd

Guess what G and I are doing in March?

Dear Mr. President

This is G's current status on Facebook, which sent me into hysterical giggles in the confines of my office:

Dear President Obama,
As you know, I am a huge fan. I have supported you since 2006 and I even worked for you during the primary. I am really looking forward to your address on Health Care this evening. However, if you run over into the 9 o'clock hour, I will be changing the channel to watch GLEE. Again, I'm a big fan. I hope that there are no hard feelings.
Thanks, Gretchen

WEIRD. (The Month of Everything, Weekend #2)

Wedding weekend #1 has come and gone, and I had a most excellent time. The whole family, minus one branch of cousins, was at the rehearsal dinner, which featured a quite entertaining slideshow/video presentation by MC, sister of the groom. I was seated with my cousin Elliott, several members of the wedding party, and a few miscellaneous friends--none of whom, other than Elliott, I knew. (Mom: "Are you going to be okay over there?" Me: "I've managed with tougher crowds than this.")

Then Saturday was the wedding, and let me tell you, it is WEIRD when the guy who once endlessly tormented you and your girl cousins is suddenly up there getting married. In a tuxedo, looking all... grown up. To a lovely young lady who has, apparently, agreed to the whole thing. Weird, I say. Mom and Aunt K kept exchanging "I CAN'T HANDLE THIS" looks.

But nonetheless, we chatted, we laughed, we ate shrimp 'n' grits, we took many photos, we danced to the oldies. It was a good time, and likely the first of many such events. But none, probably, as weird as this one. The first one.

Up next: Jules' wedding showers in Ohio!

Recap: The Month of Everything, Weekend #1

So Daniel was here over the weekend, and we had a big ole time. He and Dad did practically everything there was to do in DC on Thursday while I was working (Washington Monument; Lincoln, FDR, Vietnam, Korean, and Jefferson Memorials; Spy Museum; White House; Capitol and Supreme Court—ALL IN ONE DAY), so I was a little worried that there wouldn’t be anything left for us to do after Dad. But we made do:

Friday (before Dad left): National Cathedral, including the Bishop’s Garden, a trip up into the tower, and an exhibit about the building of the cathedral); Udvar-Hazy Air & Space Museum, where I discovered that Dad’s random knowledge of things that move extends beyond cars to airplanes; Nationals-Braves game, where Daniel experienced a Chili Half-Smoke All the Way, With Cheese from the iconic Ben’s Chili bowl

Saturday: Lunch at Five Guys, where Daniel got approximately 13 toppings on his burger;The Proposal (definitely NOT the movie I expected to see with my 15-year-old male cousin); Mall/Lincoln Memorial (second time for Daniel); fireworks viewing from the Iwo Jima memorial in Arlington, including snacks, gin rummy, and a medley of patriotic songs, sung by Ed

Sunday: Arlington National Cemetary, where I had never been and of which we covered practically every square foot; extended debate about the “most popular” bands of our age (U2 vs. Guns and Roses)—I think the answer is obvious, but D, in his infinite 15-year-old wisdom, disagrees) during the drive to meet Aunt B for dinner

Anyway, it was fun. I was tired (and sore), but we had a good time.

Up next: wedding weekend in Georgia!

What's Goin' On

Not much is happening here in our fair nation's capital, aside from humidity and horrific Metro crashes and, as of last week, CONSTANT RAIN. The Month of Nothing is puttering to a close, and The Month of Everything looms, menacingly, just a few short days from now. I spend my time alternately contemplating my wardrobe for the wedding weekend in Georgia (which involves three separate dress-wearing occasions) and being daunted by the (albeit premature) exhaustion of it all and taking to my couch with a bowl of blueberries and some ginger ale.

Recent weeks have included the following activities:

Tubing on the Shenandoah near Harpers Ferry, WV, an activity that I consciously did not mention to my aquaphobic mother because of her apparent belief that I would sink like a stone if I fall into a body of water, which I discovered during a discussion about G and Ryan's kayaking excursion.

Mom: "You don't know how to swim."
me: "What are you talking about?"
Mom: "If you fell into the river, would you be able to get to the shore?"
me: "Yes!"
Mom: "I mean more than just treading water."
me: "Yes!"
Mom: "Like, you can swim laps?"
me: "YES!"

Opera Ball (my fifth!), this year at the German ambassador's residence. Super fun, as always, and hopefully no one noticed that I was wearing the same dress that I wore for the past, uh, two years.

Hours spent arranging and rearranging my NetFlix queue. I found out that Season 2 of Everwood just came out. My world was rocked. The entire paradigm of my summer TV-on-DVD-watching schedule shifted.

Experimenting with yogurt/topping combinations YogiBerry. For months, I thought that the new shop in my neigborhood was a yoga supply store. It's not. It's a frozen yogurt place. Which is obviously far more exciting. I have learned that a) marshmallows are surprisingly unsatisfying as a topping, and b) when ordering raspberries, you only get about five, which yields an undesirable yogurt-to-topping ratio. (Val, our resident YogiBerry Expert: "You have to mush them up and swirl them around." Me: "But who wants to do that?") So far, chocolate with chocolate chips and walnuts is the winner. I will keep you posted on developments.

Getting jury duty. Because it's not like I have anything else going on July. I'm trying to muster some sense of civic pride, or something, but so far I've been unsuccessful.

That's pretty much it. But July starts in six days, and I will undoubtedly have much to report, between the road trips and the baseball and the weddings and everything. Stay tuned!

Heard...

...at Mom and Dad's yard sale this morning
Old man: D'ya have any guns for sale?
Dad: No, I'm sorry, I don't.
Old man: Are you sure? I'm paying good money.
Dad: Uh, yes. I'm sure.

Heard... ("things you don't want to hear from your unmarried daughter" edition)

...while chatting with Dad this evening
Dad: What are you doing?
Me: Shopping for baby clothes.
[silence]
Dad: Uh...that's a scary sentence.

[I was shopping for a baby shower gift.]

Dog Blog

It’s Wednesday. Dad is in Israel, communing with Moses and ancient demoniacs. Mom is at home worrying about tornados dropping a tree on the house (a seemingly irrational fear until you learn that this has occurred on two separate occasions, though not by tornados). I am watching hockey and mentally packing for my trip home this weekend, where G and I will party it up with Mom on her birthday.

We will also possibly get a dog. Not for me, unfortunately—I need to keep reminding myself of that—but for Mom and Dad.

Speaking of dogs, can we please talk about this?

May I present to you….the Komondor. Is this not the awesomest looking dog ever? I mean, look at him. He clearly has an affinity for reggae—check out the dreadlocks!—and I bet I could train him to keep my wood floors clean.

Although then I would probably have to clean the dog more frequently. Perhaps there’s a flaw in my plan.

I got completely sucked into the Westminster Kennel Club show last night, though I only saw the Toy and Working classes, followed by the Best in Show. And during the commercials, they showed about a zillion of these Purina ads about pet adoption. Pleading eyes peer adorably out of cages, and my heart breaks, and then I inevitably waste two hours looking for alternative housing with a fenced yard, until I get distracted by something else, like cupcakes or the Daily Show.

I want a dog. But you all knew that.

Problem solved!

Et voila!

G's gentleman friend has solved my problem and thus earned the right to be called by his name--which would be Ryan--on this here blog.



I can now support my team with my heart, my terrible towel, and incessant renditions of "Here We Go Steelers."

Dude Moments

People often get reflective around the new year. I don’t like to conform, of course, so it has taken me until the 14th day of the year to get there.

***********
When we were in London, Ed and I had these things that we called “Dude Moments.” These were instances when we would suddenly realize where we were or what we were doing and one of us would stop and say, “Dude… Can you believe we’re here?” Given the number of new and awesome experiences that semester, we had a lot of Dude Moments.

Anyway, do you ever have one of those moments? The ones where you think to yourself, ‘Dude. How great is this?’ I’ve been doing that a lot recently. I have a wonderful family; friends who I can count on and who make me laugh; a rewarding and challenging job; a great little apartment of my own in a city I love; and a lot of good books. I mean, really, what else is there?

I have these moments fairly regularly, which I think makes me a pretty lucky person. Just this year, I’ve probably had hundreds, but there have been a few that I can remember in the last several months (some of which I’ve already talked about, notably November 4, 2008, when much of the country was having a collective Dude Moment), and—in the interest of reflection and whatnot—I shall share them with you now.

1) October 30, 2008: I sat in a small room in the U.S. Supreme Court with 190 other people, among them the Justices of the Supreme Court, Plácido Domingo, and other local and government persons-of-interest, listening to Renée Fleming sing “Deep River,” and thinking, “How on earth did I end up here?”

2) August 29, 2008: Lola the Corolla was at full capacity as I drove back from BWI with a car full of people, a trunk full of luggage, and six conversations going on at one time—which was saying something since there were just five of us—me, Jules, Miguel, Ash, and Jason—in the car. The Trio, once inseparable, is spread across the country now, but our annual rendezvous is a joyous event—and a loud one.

3a) December 21, 2008: I stood in the choir loft at my home church, with Mom on my left, Dad on the podium, a full orchestra in front of me, and the glorious sounds of the Munsey choir seriously bringing it on Handel’s Messiah, when suddenly, the glorious sound of a trumpet—and one, in particular, that I’d know anywhere—burst forth from behind me. It surprised the hell out of me (though I’m not sure why, because what self-respecting choir director forgets to hire a trumpet player for the Hallelujah Chorus? Certainly not my father!), but brought the biggest smile to my face. (Also bringing a smile to my face? When my father, five bars from the end of the piece, snuck a peek at his watch while conducting. What, you can't wait another ten seconds?)
3b) December 25, 2008: I considered not mentioning this, since it happens every year, but whatever. Christmas Eve worship is my absolute, undisputed favorite two-hour period of the entire year, from beginning to end. It also happens to be the one time of the year when I want to be a soprano. It wouldn’t be Christmas without G rolling her eyes at me as I squeak my way through the descants. And at the end, in the first few minutes of Christmas Day, hundreds of candles are lifted skyward simultaneously on the final stanza of “Joy to the World,” and I literally get chills.

4) November 18, 2008: The Israel Philharmonic performed at the Kennedy Center, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel, and it was, bar none, one of the most incredible musical experiences I’ve ever had. Aside from the stellar performances of Tchaikovsky’s 4th and Brahms’ 4th symphonies, the orchestra began first with the national anthem—and, of course, many people sang along. But then they launched into the national anthem of Israel—a gorgeous, haunting melody—and, amazingly, much of the audience sang along with that, too! It was a powerful moment, and one I’m not likely to forget anytime soon.

5) October 14, 2008: At her request, we kept the festivities for Val’s birthday small this year—just a low-key dinner with her, Ed, J, and me. Since J doesn’t live here anymore, it was the first time in a long while that just the four of us had spent any time together since the Roommate (Plus Val) Dinners that we regularly had at the River Road house, and it was fabulous. Thus, they were the perfect three people to spend the first few (awake) hours of 2009 with at brunch on New Year’s Day.

***********
So anyway, there it is. 2009 will bring many new challenges, adventures, trips, and people. Oh, and weddings. Lots of weddings. But ’08 was a good year. Thanks to all those who were along for the ride.