I am 3 episodes deep with no chance of rescue.
I have such a love/hate relationship to this show because the sane part of me knows that it is 2 hours of my life that I am wasting on actual crap TV that is of absolutely no benefit to the bettering of my life. On the other hand, it is so incredibly entertaining to watch 30 men behave like like princess girls for 2 hours fighting for a girl and “true love”. The fact that only 4 of the 24 couples from this show have successfully made it and remained together does nothing for their cause.
I have had to decide each season to either vehemently ignore the show or dive right in and embrace the horrific and embarrassing episodes that comprise the show. There is no grey area for me and reality TV. Like with chocolate, I have no self control.
So first and foremost- I don’t know if I like the bachelorette Desiree. I mean, she hasn’t done anything to offend me per say (minus the rap video- that was just awful) but I have yet to “get” what she is all about beside being smiley and positive all the fucking time. Like, why don’t you be a little nicer and MORE sickly sweet?
Not that the show has even been a beacon for fashion but Desiree’s wardrobe is straight out of Urban Behavior. Those pale peach legging jeans of yesterday? I don’t care who you are or what your legs look like, just.dont.wear.pastel.leggings.as.pants.ever.
Which brings me to the dudes.
There is no denying that muscle was a prerequisite for getting on this show. I can see the form to enter now; the entrant must have very large muscles and neatly trimmed to non-existent chest hair- must be willing to display both in inappropriate times throughout the duration of the show and must own neon swim trunks- pink is preferable.
Boys, put on a shirt. If you want us to ogle your chiseled chests, make us work for it! Or at least make us believe that you really are the sweet soul that you claim to be- the humble men who are “just looking for love”. Humble men do not converse int he kitchen with other men all topless for no reason. There was no pool party, no ban on T-shirts that the viewer was made aware of- shtappppppppp. I like me some pecs and abs the same as the next girl but it is really hard to take you seriously when you are half naked at any moment of any given day.
Mind you, with the questionable wardrobe some men have brought with them- I am not sure that being dressed is any better. Unless you are a member of the Scarface mafia or Miami Vice (and then, even still) it is best you button up your shirt to a reasonable level. If your bellybutton is showing, suffice to say you are not buttoned up enough.
Also, I love a man in color. It can be sexy as hell. BUT if your shirt is a primary color of the rainbow and/or you have a matching tie- just no. plaid shirts worn as dress shirts- just no and shiny shirts- just no. when she gave a rose last night to Mikey T who donned a black and white large checkered shirt with tie and blazer, I questioned her taste (ok, I began that questioning when she wore that hideous blue dress).
Clothing aside, I totally love some of these guys- and by love I mean like and by like, I mostly mean like to watch and laugh at.
Brooks- so cute- such a poonany. Sorry but I have broken a finger before and I certainly did not require ER and oxygen.
Michael “Type 1 diabetes”- I really like this one and he is a lawyer (WAY better than the college pro painter who told her he loved her last night after 2 weeks). He totes talks about his diabetes a bit too much for my personal taste but then, I am not looking for love on a trashy dating show.
Juan Pablo- former football pro. Yes please.
The rest of the guys make me barf in my mouth a bit. When James went to kiss her I def dry heaved. If Mikey T tries it I may full out hurl.
The rest bore me- lying Ben- who the F cares?
Alls I can tell you is that they better be there for the “right reasons, right reasons” (anyone else rapping in their heads???)
So, ya. The Bachelorette. Totes watching it. FML.
J
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Unveiling a new chapter
Death is a funny thing. By being the opposite of life, death has a funny way of bringing to light the aspects of life which we sometimes miss. This past weekend was my grandfather’s unveiling. The meaning of this, in case you don’t know, if that they reveal the tombstone and engraved message in it as the physical reminder of the passing of a person.
His stood near the rest of my family and beside his late wife, my grandmother. It is a simple tomb, as he was never one for frivolous or ostentatious things and for the ceremony his and my grandmother’s graves were marked with flowers. When the service was over we were invited to place stones atop the tombstone and we decorated both of them with a plethora of rocks in all shapes and sizes.
At one point, when the prayers were being recited, I looked up around the gravesite and felt life all around me. more than 40 people were gathered around to witness this, really, unceremonious event. You do not have to come to an unveiling- it is not “the right thing to do”, it is not the funeral and you are disrespectful for missing it- but nevertheless, they came. And I thought about what that means and how important his life was to these people who bothered to get up early on a Sunday morning, drive far north to stand by his grave and share in the service that lasted but 20 minutes. Some were family and many were friends of my parents who probably didn’t know my grandfather well but who love my dad and therefore were impacted by my grandfather just in virtue of him being the father of a man they care about.
I thought how life is like that- how much of our parents and our parent’s parents we carry with us. How they shape us and make us and do things to our person that we cant even begin to understand. I thought about all my friends that came to see me when he died last summer- how many of them probably had only met him at my wedding and yet the kindness they shared with me and my family by acknowledging his life.
I keep thinking how hard it must be for my dad to be without his parents- I cannot even imagine the emptiness that remains when you lose a loved one and then I think how having 40 plus people surrounding you when you mourn and conversely when you laugh and celebrate (for other things) is how people survive this crazy ride.
I felt proud to be the daughter of 2 people who have such great love in their lives. They make it easy (easier) to grow up. Watching how full our home was when the group came back for the usual lunch of bagels and cream cheese you cant help but feel alive and hopeful- something you never think that death will create for you.
My grandmother was such a bubbly and warm lady and I am sure that she worried when she died 13 years ago that she was leaving my grandfather to fend for himself as a man of few words and less inclination to be the life of the party- if there is any way they were watching on Sunday, I’ll bet she was overwhelmed at the amount of people that this quiet and reserved man impacted through being such a great person, through his family and through his art.
Anyways, realizing that this is a pretty somber post and that I haven't attacked a subway passenger or creep in a while, I will post a follow up shortly but sometimes a plantain just needs to say what is on her mind.
J
His stood near the rest of my family and beside his late wife, my grandmother. It is a simple tomb, as he was never one for frivolous or ostentatious things and for the ceremony his and my grandmother’s graves were marked with flowers. When the service was over we were invited to place stones atop the tombstone and we decorated both of them with a plethora of rocks in all shapes and sizes.
At one point, when the prayers were being recited, I looked up around the gravesite and felt life all around me. more than 40 people were gathered around to witness this, really, unceremonious event. You do not have to come to an unveiling- it is not “the right thing to do”, it is not the funeral and you are disrespectful for missing it- but nevertheless, they came. And I thought about what that means and how important his life was to these people who bothered to get up early on a Sunday morning, drive far north to stand by his grave and share in the service that lasted but 20 minutes. Some were family and many were friends of my parents who probably didn’t know my grandfather well but who love my dad and therefore were impacted by my grandfather just in virtue of him being the father of a man they care about.
I thought how life is like that- how much of our parents and our parent’s parents we carry with us. How they shape us and make us and do things to our person that we cant even begin to understand. I thought about all my friends that came to see me when he died last summer- how many of them probably had only met him at my wedding and yet the kindness they shared with me and my family by acknowledging his life.
I keep thinking how hard it must be for my dad to be without his parents- I cannot even imagine the emptiness that remains when you lose a loved one and then I think how having 40 plus people surrounding you when you mourn and conversely when you laugh and celebrate (for other things) is how people survive this crazy ride.
I felt proud to be the daughter of 2 people who have such great love in their lives. They make it easy (easier) to grow up. Watching how full our home was when the group came back for the usual lunch of bagels and cream cheese you cant help but feel alive and hopeful- something you never think that death will create for you.
My grandmother was such a bubbly and warm lady and I am sure that she worried when she died 13 years ago that she was leaving my grandfather to fend for himself as a man of few words and less inclination to be the life of the party- if there is any way they were watching on Sunday, I’ll bet she was overwhelmed at the amount of people that this quiet and reserved man impacted through being such a great person, through his family and through his art.
Anyways, realizing that this is a pretty somber post and that I haven't attacked a subway passenger or creep in a while, I will post a follow up shortly but sometimes a plantain just needs to say what is on her mind.
J
Friday, May 31, 2013
An Ode to the Garden
A few months ago, I sunk into a writing funk and abandoned my blog- for what I thought would be for good.
For a few weeks, no one even noticed, reaffirming to me that mine was a lonely, unappreciated art.
And then, just as I began to reject the notion of “blogging” forever, something wonderful happened. In the span of but a few weeks I had 6 individual requests for more content.
Now 6 is no huge feat and frankly, I wish that I had 6000000 people banging down my doors to write (would certainly solve my dream to be a writer) but 6 is a start and a fairly encouraging one at that.
So, with that, I urge you to pretty please tell your friends and spread the word about these little musings.
Again, I reiterate that it only benefits us all if I become a famous person from this blog. Since the only people who really read this are family and friends, I can make the personal guarantee to buy you all cars with my fortunes should I blow up. And shit, you can have new houses too.
Deal?
So, with that.... My first post in a while....An Ode to the Garden.
This past weekend, this coming weekend and like the past 3 weekends, I have been knee deep in shit. Gardening has become in my 30’s what hangover days were in my 20’s- a great way to spend a quality Saturday.
So, knee deep in shit is an exaggeration, of course, because although I did in fact manure my lawn and garden, it was certainly not knee deep. Do you know how exhausting it is to even dig a few inches deep??
That being said, the overall crux of my statement above is that I spent Saturday gardening. We dedicated this past weekend to our vegetable garden since our flower garden is complete filled with color coordinated purple, blue and yellow flowers whose names I am never sure of.
Thankfully, amid the new Targets, the ever expanding Yorkdale malls and the Starbuck stores, there are some hidden gems in this city. allow me to introduce you to Plantworld. Located in the west end, this store’s name is not exactly an exaggeration- it is literally its own planet in size and also carries a world of plants. They has 45 tomatoes varieties. I didn’t even know there was mor than 5. It was one of the best mornings I have ever spent wandering those aisles filled with 16 kinds of Oregano varieties in parenial and annual forms. They even carried gargoyles for the yard and the best selection of garden gnomes I have ever seen. If I were not destined to be an old cat lady, you can bet your bottom dollar I would be that weird garden chatchka person with a thousand wind catchers and fake butterflies adorning my iris and creeping ivies.
So flower garden first. If you have a low chain fence and neighbors who rent their basement to kids who look like they belong in Juvy, then might I recommend cheap and cheerful bamboo reed fences? For 30 dollars per 16 feet, these fences are a saving grace to those of us who don’t want to have to see anyone with their shirt off in their neighboring yard, especially an unattractive, overweight guy who is unfriendly and smokes butts like they are going out of style.
Once we had the fence up (and some peace) we tackled the question of what to plant. Like a virgin, you just don’t know where to put it, will it fit and will it grow? So, like a virgin, we stabbed away and hope for an explosion of color and life! We planted 3 kinds of lavender including the kind you can pick and dry out- which would be awesome if it grew since I spend a lot of unnecessary money on dried lavender for my bathroom... Anyways, we also planted a bunch of peonies, bear claws and lambs ears.
Like a good mom, I watch my little flowers every day and take the greatest delight when I see a new bud and weep when a flower gets damaged or pulled off. It is obsessive, sure, but isnt that the pre-requisite to a good new hobby?
For veggies, my goal is to have enough growing that we don’t have to hit up the grocery store all summer long. So far we have planted arugula, radicchio, chard, cucumber, tomatoes, lavender (obvi), oregano, thyme, mint, cilantro, rosemary and raspberries. Again, I watch these obsessively and drag my husband out to see the plants nightly insisting that the rainbow chard has certainly grown at least an inch since the night before (or has it?). I squealed out loud last night when I noticed my raspberry bush was beginning to spout thorns- as a side note, I have been aggressively warned about raspberry bushes as being really bad- apparently they basically vomit other raspberry bushes everywhere so buyer beware.
In the same way I feel about my flowers, I figure that my vegetables will do what they will. Not being a seasoned farmer, I have no idea what to expect so I guess we will see what happens and then know more for next year....
In the meantime, we have also been doing a bit of DIY landscaping. There is nothing more satisfying that getting down and dirty with your yard. Maybe in a few years when we are older and jaded (and less poor), we will go ahead and hire a gardener and landscaper but for now, I cant imagine paying someone to do something that is just so damn fun.
Of course, with every yin, comes a yang and the bane of my gardening existence- ironically enough- is the huge, very old and very beautiful cherry trees I have growing in my backyard. These 2 trees are the never-ending source of delightful shade, gorgeous blossoms and (fingers crossed) sweet cherry fruit. They are also the source of having my entire yard covered in blossoms that have blown off the trees, an inordinate amount of cherry stems that have also blown off the trees and nightly terrors when it storms worrying that they will fall over and cause millions in damages to our neighborhood (yup, they are that big)
Anyways- I am slowly learning why gardening is a seriously committed activity- we cleaned the whole garden up, mowed the lawn and picked the weeds last weekend so imagine my surprise when I went outside last night to BBQ and found the yard in a state of disarray that seemingly happened overnight! You can guess what I will be doing this weekend now too....
Gardening, the new Saturday night at the clubs. Mark my words. If you are rolling your eyes at this- wait until you turn 30 and buy your first house. You will be singing the praises of daisy varieties and tomato stakes in no time.
Happy planting,
Jane
For a few weeks, no one even noticed, reaffirming to me that mine was a lonely, unappreciated art.
And then, just as I began to reject the notion of “blogging” forever, something wonderful happened. In the span of but a few weeks I had 6 individual requests for more content.
Now 6 is no huge feat and frankly, I wish that I had 6000000 people banging down my doors to write (would certainly solve my dream to be a writer) but 6 is a start and a fairly encouraging one at that.
So, with that, I urge you to pretty please tell your friends and spread the word about these little musings.
Again, I reiterate that it only benefits us all if I become a famous person from this blog. Since the only people who really read this are family and friends, I can make the personal guarantee to buy you all cars with my fortunes should I blow up. And shit, you can have new houses too.
Deal?
So, with that.... My first post in a while....An Ode to the Garden.
This past weekend, this coming weekend and like the past 3 weekends, I have been knee deep in shit. Gardening has become in my 30’s what hangover days were in my 20’s- a great way to spend a quality Saturday.
So, knee deep in shit is an exaggeration, of course, because although I did in fact manure my lawn and garden, it was certainly not knee deep. Do you know how exhausting it is to even dig a few inches deep??
That being said, the overall crux of my statement above is that I spent Saturday gardening. We dedicated this past weekend to our vegetable garden since our flower garden is complete filled with color coordinated purple, blue and yellow flowers whose names I am never sure of.
Thankfully, amid the new Targets, the ever expanding Yorkdale malls and the Starbuck stores, there are some hidden gems in this city. allow me to introduce you to Plantworld. Located in the west end, this store’s name is not exactly an exaggeration- it is literally its own planet in size and also carries a world of plants. They has 45 tomatoes varieties. I didn’t even know there was mor than 5. It was one of the best mornings I have ever spent wandering those aisles filled with 16 kinds of Oregano varieties in parenial and annual forms. They even carried gargoyles for the yard and the best selection of garden gnomes I have ever seen. If I were not destined to be an old cat lady, you can bet your bottom dollar I would be that weird garden chatchka person with a thousand wind catchers and fake butterflies adorning my iris and creeping ivies.
So flower garden first. If you have a low chain fence and neighbors who rent their basement to kids who look like they belong in Juvy, then might I recommend cheap and cheerful bamboo reed fences? For 30 dollars per 16 feet, these fences are a saving grace to those of us who don’t want to have to see anyone with their shirt off in their neighboring yard, especially an unattractive, overweight guy who is unfriendly and smokes butts like they are going out of style.
Once we had the fence up (and some peace) we tackled the question of what to plant. Like a virgin, you just don’t know where to put it, will it fit and will it grow? So, like a virgin, we stabbed away and hope for an explosion of color and life! We planted 3 kinds of lavender including the kind you can pick and dry out- which would be awesome if it grew since I spend a lot of unnecessary money on dried lavender for my bathroom... Anyways, we also planted a bunch of peonies, bear claws and lambs ears.
Like a good mom, I watch my little flowers every day and take the greatest delight when I see a new bud and weep when a flower gets damaged or pulled off. It is obsessive, sure, but isnt that the pre-requisite to a good new hobby?
For veggies, my goal is to have enough growing that we don’t have to hit up the grocery store all summer long. So far we have planted arugula, radicchio, chard, cucumber, tomatoes, lavender (obvi), oregano, thyme, mint, cilantro, rosemary and raspberries. Again, I watch these obsessively and drag my husband out to see the plants nightly insisting that the rainbow chard has certainly grown at least an inch since the night before (or has it?). I squealed out loud last night when I noticed my raspberry bush was beginning to spout thorns- as a side note, I have been aggressively warned about raspberry bushes as being really bad- apparently they basically vomit other raspberry bushes everywhere so buyer beware.
In the same way I feel about my flowers, I figure that my vegetables will do what they will. Not being a seasoned farmer, I have no idea what to expect so I guess we will see what happens and then know more for next year....
In the meantime, we have also been doing a bit of DIY landscaping. There is nothing more satisfying that getting down and dirty with your yard. Maybe in a few years when we are older and jaded (and less poor), we will go ahead and hire a gardener and landscaper but for now, I cant imagine paying someone to do something that is just so damn fun.
Of course, with every yin, comes a yang and the bane of my gardening existence- ironically enough- is the huge, very old and very beautiful cherry trees I have growing in my backyard. These 2 trees are the never-ending source of delightful shade, gorgeous blossoms and (fingers crossed) sweet cherry fruit. They are also the source of having my entire yard covered in blossoms that have blown off the trees, an inordinate amount of cherry stems that have also blown off the trees and nightly terrors when it storms worrying that they will fall over and cause millions in damages to our neighborhood (yup, they are that big)
Anyways- I am slowly learning why gardening is a seriously committed activity- we cleaned the whole garden up, mowed the lawn and picked the weeds last weekend so imagine my surprise when I went outside last night to BBQ and found the yard in a state of disarray that seemingly happened overnight! You can guess what I will be doing this weekend now too....
Gardening, the new Saturday night at the clubs. Mark my words. If you are rolling your eyes at this- wait until you turn 30 and buy your first house. You will be singing the praises of daisy varieties and tomato stakes in no time.
Happy planting,
Jane
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Thank my lucky stars
I’m going to admit something to you today- after posting about my wonderful, amazing 31st birthday it seemed only right to disclose something fresh- I have a problem.
I don’t want to say that you should go ahead and call up TLC to get me on the next episode of extreme obsessions (yet) but I have taken up contesting, and now I cant stop.
Like its counterpart, extreme couponing, contesting is the act of seeking out viable contests in your region and compulsively entering them with a strong feeling that you are “meant” to win. I actually believe that I am destined to go to Antarctica (a place I never before even gave thought to visiting) for 10 days on an all inclusive vacation courtesy of the movie Revolution, I am supposed to get the $1000 dollar prepaid mastercard from the BC museum of natural history and of course, the brand new TV from LG is as good as mine.
This is why I don’t go to casinos. My sense of entitlement to things that are not and were never mine is just insane. I am not addicted to the “rush” of the gamble but rather I have an unnatural attachment to prizes- whether I want them, or whether I don’t.
So ya, just bought a lotto ticket for the 43 million dollar draw and I have already spent 1 million in my mind of the money that is bound to be mine.
To date, I have only ever accidentally won something when I filled out a survey not knowing it would enter me to win a package of Khiel’s products. Like a watched pot that wont boil.
Wish me luck,
Xo
Jane
I don’t want to say that you should go ahead and call up TLC to get me on the next episode of extreme obsessions (yet) but I have taken up contesting, and now I cant stop.
Like its counterpart, extreme couponing, contesting is the act of seeking out viable contests in your region and compulsively entering them with a strong feeling that you are “meant” to win. I actually believe that I am destined to go to Antarctica (a place I never before even gave thought to visiting) for 10 days on an all inclusive vacation courtesy of the movie Revolution, I am supposed to get the $1000 dollar prepaid mastercard from the BC museum of natural history and of course, the brand new TV from LG is as good as mine.
This is why I don’t go to casinos. My sense of entitlement to things that are not and were never mine is just insane. I am not addicted to the “rush” of the gamble but rather I have an unnatural attachment to prizes- whether I want them, or whether I don’t.
So ya, just bought a lotto ticket for the 43 million dollar draw and I have already spent 1 million in my mind of the money that is bound to be mine.
To date, I have only ever accidentally won something when I filled out a survey not knowing it would enter me to win a package of Khiel’s products. Like a watched pot that wont boil.
Wish me luck,
Xo
Jane
Thirty One
This past Sunday I turned 31. Most of my previous birthdays have revolved around my crying like a small child, lamenting the passing of years and generally throwing tantrums that rival anything I did as a “terrible two”.
In the years past, my husband has watched me cry and fling myself through every wonderful meal that he has treated me to celebrate. I have, as such, enjoyed tears and pork, tears and pasta, just tears....
I did not have high hopes for this year. I was especially feeling the gloom and doom set in when I went to buy a birthday outfit and was force fed the idea of a crop top by an overly smiley sales person. Crop tops- the bane of my adult existence- like the blue lips of Ke$ha, the half shaved head and ombre pink hair that I so wish was popular in my heyday. What sis I get other than T shirts as dresses and a mullet... But I digress....
So, upon even hearing the word crop top, I panicked. Panicked for my age, panicked for my sanity and prepared myself emotionally for a roller coaster of a weekend. I did so in vain.
Instead of the output of unnecessary emotions, I only felt 2. Joy and gratitude. Basically the opposite of the past 30 years of my life.
Friday at work I was treated to a little décor and a whole bowl of fresh berries (my co-workers know me well) and my night consisted of going out with my in-laws for 1 of 3 dinner extravaganzas.
Dear Frank’s Kitchen, you are yummy. Less the neurotic host who seemed like he was going to just lie down and die when we had to wait 5 minutes for our reservation due to some confusion with the tables, the experience was amazing. I had the most delicious pickerel fish dish with razor clams, scallop and some kind of fish cake which I let my husband pick at. Fish cakes, the Buffalo of seafood. I have never gotten on board with these creations. It tastes like canned tuna heated up/ aka not delicious.
Saturday night my hubs treated me to a dinner at Ursa (easiest way to my heart is through good food). It was just F-ing delicious. Our server was cute, the drinks were plentiful and my rainbow trout was just insane.
We spent the remainder of the night there with friends who came to meet us and proceeded to drink as if I were turning 21 instead of 31.
Suffice to say, I was not thrilled to have y alarm go off the next morning, my real birthday, at 7:30am. Hangovers physically hurt me.
We spent the day hosting a brunch which was exactly, precisely, definitely how I wanted to spend my day- sarcasm is not present in any of these words. I took a moment to step back nd look around this room filled with my friends, my hubs friends, our family, little people who belong to the friends and family, and I felt like the luckiest 31 year old on the planet. I love feeling loved (who doesn’t?) and I would say that this day certainly delivered that and then some.
Once most of our friends left, we spent the afternoon playing board games with a few remaining people and by the time I blinked, it was dinner.
My parents, who rounded out our company for dinner #3, are dificult to eat with. Not because they are picky or weird but they are kosher and my mom, much like me, has 4 million allergies to everything. Having had a disastrous meal there for my 29th birthday, it was with great apprehension that I chose Woodlot for the meal. All things aside, Woodlot does a great job offering amazing vegetarian food- I figured with all things considered, that was a good choice.
I wish I could say that my mind was blown and that I fell in love with the place. The meal was great and obviously the company was fun but I can safely say now that I would not make an effort to return. After such a crap time 2 years ago, I needed to have a mouth-gasm to make me love again. Let’s say I have forgiven the past but left it at a civil/ polite relationship.
All in all, I spent my last precious birthday hours in a state of glee. If this is any indication of how 31 will be- I can anticipate a year of great food, friends, love and celebrations with amazing, wonderful people. And hey, even a cray cray like me cant complain about that.
Xo
Jane.
In the years past, my husband has watched me cry and fling myself through every wonderful meal that he has treated me to celebrate. I have, as such, enjoyed tears and pork, tears and pasta, just tears....
I did not have high hopes for this year. I was especially feeling the gloom and doom set in when I went to buy a birthday outfit and was force fed the idea of a crop top by an overly smiley sales person. Crop tops- the bane of my adult existence- like the blue lips of Ke$ha, the half shaved head and ombre pink hair that I so wish was popular in my heyday. What sis I get other than T shirts as dresses and a mullet... But I digress....
So, upon even hearing the word crop top, I panicked. Panicked for my age, panicked for my sanity and prepared myself emotionally for a roller coaster of a weekend. I did so in vain.
Instead of the output of unnecessary emotions, I only felt 2. Joy and gratitude. Basically the opposite of the past 30 years of my life.
Friday at work I was treated to a little décor and a whole bowl of fresh berries (my co-workers know me well) and my night consisted of going out with my in-laws for 1 of 3 dinner extravaganzas.
Dear Frank’s Kitchen, you are yummy. Less the neurotic host who seemed like he was going to just lie down and die when we had to wait 5 minutes for our reservation due to some confusion with the tables, the experience was amazing. I had the most delicious pickerel fish dish with razor clams, scallop and some kind of fish cake which I let my husband pick at. Fish cakes, the Buffalo of seafood. I have never gotten on board with these creations. It tastes like canned tuna heated up/ aka not delicious.
Saturday night my hubs treated me to a dinner at Ursa (easiest way to my heart is through good food). It was just F-ing delicious. Our server was cute, the drinks were plentiful and my rainbow trout was just insane.
We spent the remainder of the night there with friends who came to meet us and proceeded to drink as if I were turning 21 instead of 31.
Suffice to say, I was not thrilled to have y alarm go off the next morning, my real birthday, at 7:30am. Hangovers physically hurt me.
We spent the day hosting a brunch which was exactly, precisely, definitely how I wanted to spend my day- sarcasm is not present in any of these words. I took a moment to step back nd look around this room filled with my friends, my hubs friends, our family, little people who belong to the friends and family, and I felt like the luckiest 31 year old on the planet. I love feeling loved (who doesn’t?) and I would say that this day certainly delivered that and then some.
Once most of our friends left, we spent the afternoon playing board games with a few remaining people and by the time I blinked, it was dinner.
My parents, who rounded out our company for dinner #3, are dificult to eat with. Not because they are picky or weird but they are kosher and my mom, much like me, has 4 million allergies to everything. Having had a disastrous meal there for my 29th birthday, it was with great apprehension that I chose Woodlot for the meal. All things aside, Woodlot does a great job offering amazing vegetarian food- I figured with all things considered, that was a good choice.
I wish I could say that my mind was blown and that I fell in love with the place. The meal was great and obviously the company was fun but I can safely say now that I would not make an effort to return. After such a crap time 2 years ago, I needed to have a mouth-gasm to make me love again. Let’s say I have forgiven the past but left it at a civil/ polite relationship.
All in all, I spent my last precious birthday hours in a state of glee. If this is any indication of how 31 will be- I can anticipate a year of great food, friends, love and celebrations with amazing, wonderful people. And hey, even a cray cray like me cant complain about that.
Xo
Jane.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Fab Feb
Hi readers,
As February rolls to an end in just 9 more days, I think it worthwhile to review the month.
My first admission is that I totes didn’t hand in my sketchbook this year. I feel like such a hack for the amount of time I spend doodling and the lack of time I put towards just doing it in the confines of the brown paper pages they provide. So for the first time in 3 years, I will not have a tiny slot in the vast library of people who draw shit- my book and it’s under-developed story will live in my own color coded bookshelves always amiss for the absence of a full brown section (because OCD dictates that a rust brown be categorized with oranges, obviously).
I actually even thought my story was pretty damn good but never with an opportunity to really fluff out the details. If I hate anything in life (I hate lots of things- this is just a dramatic line for no one) it is a story that has an unsatisfying ending. Where my main character, Saucer Eyes, lost her panache was in the conclusion because I was just powering through the final 4 pages. Lesson learned folks, lesson learned.
Second point was the second gathering of my new book club. I have this (endearing????) tendency to coo over people when I am drunk. Like, put some wine into me and if I like you, you are sure to know it. This was a totally plague in my high school/university days when boys were involved because it is impossible to play hard-to-get when you just word vomit love on people the second alcohol touches your lips. Frankly, I still word puke on people all the time- it makes me thankful that I am scared of confrontations because I can only imagine that if I wasn’t, the word bile could be dangerous to my health and well-being. As it stands, no one ever wants to punch you for telling them how great they are and how much you value them- although I did once accidentally tell a boy I loved him when I was drunk (it was a total “I totally love you man” moment) and I probs broke his heart when he said it back, and meant it- I digress....
Book club- right, that’s where we were. If I had not been super careful with my vino consumption I would have totally love-sploded on these girls- new friends are the best.
So this month we read The Marriage Plot. I loved this book. Yes, the female character was weak, pathetic and totally driven by a need to be accepted and loved by a man but is that honestly so unfathomable? Have I myself not been said girl and do I not know a slew of fellow love fools who have gone off the deep end for the sake of love- in fact, I would assert that love would be so much less exciting if not for the craziness that it instills in people- I like that it turns you into a maniac, that it is unreliable and gut wrenching at times- makes it real yo.
Anywho, it obviously made me think about both mine and my friends various relationships throughout our younger years and how many times I did stupid shit in the name of a dude- how much I put up with in the name of a dude. It was so easy to read this book and judge the character’s flaws and misgivings as it is to judge people around you who you think are in crappy relationships. Alls I can tell you is that in hindsight- if everyone around you hates your partner or has cray stuff to say about them, they probably suck. I would only wish that when I told my friend who was dating a pseudo homeless guy, married guy, total loser guy, insert shitty quality here they had listened to me- likewise, when my mom and dad/ friends used to tell me how totally crap my bf was- I wish I had listened to them- teenagers, always learning shit the hard way.
Love. My favorite topic of all time was pretty much the theme of the whole month following the reading of The Marriage Plot. Craving book, I read The Rules of Civility- a love story set in jazz era NYC about a love triangle, love lost and how love lingers. This was followed by The Paris Wife- the love story of Ernest Hemingway and his first wife- both touched on the idea of the love that you will always and never have- I like that idea- that people exist in your life that you will always and never love- somewhere out there someone always and never loves you- think about it.
And, on the topic of love, I bring you Valentine’s day- Plantain style. Any holiday that involves candy- in. I really don’t care for all that crap about not wanting to participate in a Hallmark holiday or that Valentines Day is depressing for single people or annoying for couples who have to go out and spend unnecessary money on flowers. Hot daym scrooges- get with the love fest.
Who ever said anything about Valentines Day being for couples???
A day of love should celebrate just that. Love. If you have no love in your life, then fine- you deserve to bitch about Valentines day but I would redirect your efforts into becoming a nicer person- just saying.
For V day this year, I took myself on a mini shopping spree and treated myself to new yoga clothes, I volunteered, I ate something yummy and bought presents for upcoming celebrations in the lives of people around me because you know what? I love myself (and clothes) love yoga, love doing good for the greater good, love food, and love the special people in my life. Sure, my hubby was with me for the evening and yes- I bought him a book I knew he would like but I felt more grateful to have so much love in my life period than to be married- shit, I celebrate being married to a wonderful man every single day.
Oh, and I wore read the whole 24 hours. Booya.
And finally, February was the month of giving up on my wake-up-early-everyday thing. Honestly, if anyone has a tip or trick related to getting my ass out of bed at a time that allows me room to breath before running out the door- please share. I will consider it community service- you can think of yourself as a good deed doer.
Yours very truly- in the February spirit,
Jane.
As February rolls to an end in just 9 more days, I think it worthwhile to review the month.
My first admission is that I totes didn’t hand in my sketchbook this year. I feel like such a hack for the amount of time I spend doodling and the lack of time I put towards just doing it in the confines of the brown paper pages they provide. So for the first time in 3 years, I will not have a tiny slot in the vast library of people who draw shit- my book and it’s under-developed story will live in my own color coded bookshelves always amiss for the absence of a full brown section (because OCD dictates that a rust brown be categorized with oranges, obviously).
I actually even thought my story was pretty damn good but never with an opportunity to really fluff out the details. If I hate anything in life (I hate lots of things- this is just a dramatic line for no one) it is a story that has an unsatisfying ending. Where my main character, Saucer Eyes, lost her panache was in the conclusion because I was just powering through the final 4 pages. Lesson learned folks, lesson learned.
Second point was the second gathering of my new book club. I have this (endearing????) tendency to coo over people when I am drunk. Like, put some wine into me and if I like you, you are sure to know it. This was a totally plague in my high school/university days when boys were involved because it is impossible to play hard-to-get when you just word vomit love on people the second alcohol touches your lips. Frankly, I still word puke on people all the time- it makes me thankful that I am scared of confrontations because I can only imagine that if I wasn’t, the word bile could be dangerous to my health and well-being. As it stands, no one ever wants to punch you for telling them how great they are and how much you value them- although I did once accidentally tell a boy I loved him when I was drunk (it was a total “I totally love you man” moment) and I probs broke his heart when he said it back, and meant it- I digress....
Book club- right, that’s where we were. If I had not been super careful with my vino consumption I would have totally love-sploded on these girls- new friends are the best.
So this month we read The Marriage Plot. I loved this book. Yes, the female character was weak, pathetic and totally driven by a need to be accepted and loved by a man but is that honestly so unfathomable? Have I myself not been said girl and do I not know a slew of fellow love fools who have gone off the deep end for the sake of love- in fact, I would assert that love would be so much less exciting if not for the craziness that it instills in people- I like that it turns you into a maniac, that it is unreliable and gut wrenching at times- makes it real yo.
Anywho, it obviously made me think about both mine and my friends various relationships throughout our younger years and how many times I did stupid shit in the name of a dude- how much I put up with in the name of a dude. It was so easy to read this book and judge the character’s flaws and misgivings as it is to judge people around you who you think are in crappy relationships. Alls I can tell you is that in hindsight- if everyone around you hates your partner or has cray stuff to say about them, they probably suck. I would only wish that when I told my friend who was dating a pseudo homeless guy, married guy, total loser guy, insert shitty quality here they had listened to me- likewise, when my mom and dad/ friends used to tell me how totally crap my bf was- I wish I had listened to them- teenagers, always learning shit the hard way.
Love. My favorite topic of all time was pretty much the theme of the whole month following the reading of The Marriage Plot. Craving book, I read The Rules of Civility- a love story set in jazz era NYC about a love triangle, love lost and how love lingers. This was followed by The Paris Wife- the love story of Ernest Hemingway and his first wife- both touched on the idea of the love that you will always and never have- I like that idea- that people exist in your life that you will always and never love- somewhere out there someone always and never loves you- think about it.
And, on the topic of love, I bring you Valentine’s day- Plantain style. Any holiday that involves candy- in. I really don’t care for all that crap about not wanting to participate in a Hallmark holiday or that Valentines Day is depressing for single people or annoying for couples who have to go out and spend unnecessary money on flowers. Hot daym scrooges- get with the love fest.
Who ever said anything about Valentines Day being for couples???
A day of love should celebrate just that. Love. If you have no love in your life, then fine- you deserve to bitch about Valentines day but I would redirect your efforts into becoming a nicer person- just saying.
For V day this year, I took myself on a mini shopping spree and treated myself to new yoga clothes, I volunteered, I ate something yummy and bought presents for upcoming celebrations in the lives of people around me because you know what? I love myself (and clothes) love yoga, love doing good for the greater good, love food, and love the special people in my life. Sure, my hubby was with me for the evening and yes- I bought him a book I knew he would like but I felt more grateful to have so much love in my life period than to be married- shit, I celebrate being married to a wonderful man every single day.
Oh, and I wore read the whole 24 hours. Booya.
And finally, February was the month of giving up on my wake-up-early-everyday thing. Honestly, if anyone has a tip or trick related to getting my ass out of bed at a time that allows me room to breath before running out the door- please share. I will consider it community service- you can think of yourself as a good deed doer.
Yours very truly- in the February spirit,
Jane.
Monday, February 4, 2013
13 going on 30
This past weekend was a perfect example of why I feel like a child and adult wrapped in a big package.
The kid in me was elated to be going (for my third time- don’t judge me) to Medieval Times. Yes, the very Medieval Times Dinner and Tournament that you have seen in the commercials- the site of my first Valentine’s date with my now-husband. It was my great fortune that his office decided to rent out the venue as the site of their office kids party.
With a mixture of favorable nostalgia and a 3 year old level of enthusiasm I tried to contain myself during the car-ride down. I spoke not of my strong, almost crazy desire to get my face painted blue to match out assigned knight- 30 year old women don’t paint their face- unless it is with an excess of cover up to hide the ever-growing wrinkles.
It was thankful that we had our nephew there with us to legitimize our running alongside hundreds of children and pushing our way to see the falcon and horses before the show. There is nothing weirder than realizing you are a lone adult in a kid’s environment (ie. When my husband and I, one year at Chudleigh’s Apple Farm found ourselves alone with a bunch of kids in the hay maze- you feel like a creep despite not being one at all).
The tournament itself was hilarious- made all the more so by watching my little nephew watch in awe as the horses and knights and falcon performed their act- I think his mouth was agape for 2 whole hours staring. It was adorbs.
I was slightly disappointed that the 5 year old girl sitting next to me was awarded the “fairest maiden” flower.
From the lunch and jousting, my hubs and I went to Liberty Village to get some lights at EQ3- nothing juxtaposes your child and adult tendencies like spending one hour eating with your hands and being jealous of 5 year old to putting sensible (but so cute) light fixtures on your Visa and considering the merits of exposed versus closed shelving units.
And just as quick as adult-tasks came in, they left and I took a wicked afternoon nap. Naps to me have always been a huge player in the kid vs. adult battle. It is so childlike to need a nap in order to function for a night out- kids have full nap schedules in fact and napping is a huge part of being a kid- however, napping also signifys to me, a sense of what an adult is all about- being tired. When I was in high school and university I slept until the afternoon rendering naps useless. Now in this period of my life when I am perpetually awake before 8am every day, when I loose sleep on the regular due to stress and when I just cant hack going out for a whole night on the little overnight sleep I had- I feel entitled and due to nap. It is a great adult luxury and a great kid necessity.
Waking up from a nap when it is dark outside is hard. You almost feel a moments inclination to just say F-it and sleep the rest of the night away. Unless you have a super fun night ahead of you and then, like us this past weekend, you get ready and out the door lickity split. Saturday night was filled with 2 birthdays sharing a birthday feast- there is nothing I love to do more than have a long, luxurious, delicious, drunk dinner that goes into the wee hours of the night and leaves all attendant satiated and hammered. I was not disappointed. But again found myself feeling like a kid- going outside with no coat on, licking the sauce from the wicked meat pie off my fingers with no regard for table decorum and generally running around the resto like I ran shit- I don’t run anything.
Morning time came and if there is any time in life you feel quite like an adult it is when you realize that you can’t spend a night indulging without paying the price. AND nothing puts the cherry on that sundae like attending the bday party of your friend’s 2 year old daughter, cleaning your house from top to bottom and grocery shopping a sensible shop for the week to come.
All this said, I was thankful (albeit tired) to end my night in the perfect blend of the 2 juxtaposing Plantains that I was facing all weekend. Amid candy, popcorn, fruit and chocolate I spent my night with 10 amazing girls laughing our faces off. Sure, the jokes were juvenile and the junk food indicative of a time when candy didn’t go straight to my second and third asses but looking around the room at the wonderful friends I have who are such amazing beautiful and accomplished women, I was happy to be a grown up. (Except for the 15 minutes when Beyonce performed in that amazing leather lace number and I thought to myself that I wished I could go back to being 21 with a body like that- not that I ever looked like that but pre- 3 asses right?_
The kid in me was elated to be going (for my third time- don’t judge me) to Medieval Times. Yes, the very Medieval Times Dinner and Tournament that you have seen in the commercials- the site of my first Valentine’s date with my now-husband. It was my great fortune that his office decided to rent out the venue as the site of their office kids party.
With a mixture of favorable nostalgia and a 3 year old level of enthusiasm I tried to contain myself during the car-ride down. I spoke not of my strong, almost crazy desire to get my face painted blue to match out assigned knight- 30 year old women don’t paint their face- unless it is with an excess of cover up to hide the ever-growing wrinkles.
It was thankful that we had our nephew there with us to legitimize our running alongside hundreds of children and pushing our way to see the falcon and horses before the show. There is nothing weirder than realizing you are a lone adult in a kid’s environment (ie. When my husband and I, one year at Chudleigh’s Apple Farm found ourselves alone with a bunch of kids in the hay maze- you feel like a creep despite not being one at all).
The tournament itself was hilarious- made all the more so by watching my little nephew watch in awe as the horses and knights and falcon performed their act- I think his mouth was agape for 2 whole hours staring. It was adorbs.
I was slightly disappointed that the 5 year old girl sitting next to me was awarded the “fairest maiden” flower.
From the lunch and jousting, my hubs and I went to Liberty Village to get some lights at EQ3- nothing juxtaposes your child and adult tendencies like spending one hour eating with your hands and being jealous of 5 year old to putting sensible (but so cute) light fixtures on your Visa and considering the merits of exposed versus closed shelving units.
And just as quick as adult-tasks came in, they left and I took a wicked afternoon nap. Naps to me have always been a huge player in the kid vs. adult battle. It is so childlike to need a nap in order to function for a night out- kids have full nap schedules in fact and napping is a huge part of being a kid- however, napping also signifys to me, a sense of what an adult is all about- being tired. When I was in high school and university I slept until the afternoon rendering naps useless. Now in this period of my life when I am perpetually awake before 8am every day, when I loose sleep on the regular due to stress and when I just cant hack going out for a whole night on the little overnight sleep I had- I feel entitled and due to nap. It is a great adult luxury and a great kid necessity.
Waking up from a nap when it is dark outside is hard. You almost feel a moments inclination to just say F-it and sleep the rest of the night away. Unless you have a super fun night ahead of you and then, like us this past weekend, you get ready and out the door lickity split. Saturday night was filled with 2 birthdays sharing a birthday feast- there is nothing I love to do more than have a long, luxurious, delicious, drunk dinner that goes into the wee hours of the night and leaves all attendant satiated and hammered. I was not disappointed. But again found myself feeling like a kid- going outside with no coat on, licking the sauce from the wicked meat pie off my fingers with no regard for table decorum and generally running around the resto like I ran shit- I don’t run anything.
Morning time came and if there is any time in life you feel quite like an adult it is when you realize that you can’t spend a night indulging without paying the price. AND nothing puts the cherry on that sundae like attending the bday party of your friend’s 2 year old daughter, cleaning your house from top to bottom and grocery shopping a sensible shop for the week to come.
All this said, I was thankful (albeit tired) to end my night in the perfect blend of the 2 juxtaposing Plantains that I was facing all weekend. Amid candy, popcorn, fruit and chocolate I spent my night with 10 amazing girls laughing our faces off. Sure, the jokes were juvenile and the junk food indicative of a time when candy didn’t go straight to my second and third asses but looking around the room at the wonderful friends I have who are such amazing beautiful and accomplished women, I was happy to be a grown up. (Except for the 15 minutes when Beyonce performed in that amazing leather lace number and I thought to myself that I wished I could go back to being 21 with a body like that- not that I ever looked like that but pre- 3 asses right?_
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)