Dinner for Dad.

Rachael’s Florentine Proscuitto-Wrapped Chicken (I used bacon), a CSA Caesar with pine nuts, and some crescent rolls. My dad was pretty happy about it. 

Other adventures included: dinner at Grafton Street, lunch at Fowle’s, apples and pumpkins and a gross number of cider doughnuts, a ride in a tow truck (!!), and lots and lots of good talks. I’m a lucky chick.

like a postcard of a golden retriever

Jackie and my dad in Brooklyn, February 09

My dad comes this weekend! My dad is pretty awesome. He loves baked goods and Alfred Hitchcock and lives in New York City like a fancy guy. His favorite story about me is that one time when I was three I came up to him at a party and kicked him in the shins for no reason. Ask him. He’ll tell you. He also does a great impression of my Nana, who is apparently the originator of our weird familial compulsion to tell each other everything we ate that day.  (Also, completely unrelated but telling: one time I was playing that game with Jackie and I had literally been listing stuff for like ten minutes and finally she was like “Jesus Christ, are you DONE?” and I was like, “Yes. Oh, also a pulled-pork sandwich.”)

Anyway. Tom pointed out that my dad is pretty much the easiest guy in the world to entertain because all he really wants to do on vacation is eat good food and chat and take a nap every day at 3 o’clock. THAT IS A PLAN I CAN GET BEHIND. On the agenda for this weekend: fried mozzarella at Maggianos, a trip to Cider Hill for some apple picking, dinner at my house (I really want to make Rachael’s Florentine Prosciutto-Wrapped Chicken! Is that shameful?), and a trip to see Tom at work for some drinks.

And, clearly, naps.

Back on Monday. Hug your Pops.

PS: Don’t you think the guy who won the Peace Prize today is cool and handsome? I sure do.

Sorellina

Isn’t my sister pretty?

my life would suck without you

Jackie comes tonight! I’m off to enjoy her. See you back here on Monday.

We are all Americans

Some days I miss my city more than others.

Whilst at Home

I said to my mom, “Well, one thing you can say about this place is that it’s green.”

She said, “It does have that going for it, I suppose.”

to be fair, it was actually kind of beautiful.

My cousin D had ten bridesmaids, a trumpet player, and a smoke machine. It cost a hundred grand.

Ever My Own

I’ve written a little bit about my sister before. She’s a firecracker, a drama queen, a butterfly—one part Olsen twin to one part Mother Teresa. She was here this weekend, and it was like my whole life lit up.

 

There are two and a half years between us and that used to feel like lifetimes, like we hailed from two completely different dimensions. When we were five and seven, we beat each other bloody. When I was fourteen, I kissed the boy she had a crush on. When she was sixteen, we didn’t speak for twelve weeks.

 

As we’ve gotten older, though, those two and a half years have collapsed in on themselves so that now we are hard pressed to remember a time when we weren’t madly in love, like surely we must have been created in the same moment. She’s my best friend, my soulmate, the most honest person I know. I never laugh so hard as when we are together. I never cheer so loudly as when she succeeds.

 

I’ve mentioned before how the next few months are going to be a little dicey around these parts. Our family looks so different than it used to. We’re adjusting as gracefully as we can (composing a mix cd entitled “Happy F—ing Holidays”, the contents of which are split pretty evenly between Christmas carols and Wu-Tang Clan, counts as adjusting, right?), but the truth is I’m scared of what’s coming.

 

A few days ago, though, as my sister and I sat on my couch at two in the morning eating nachos and watching Good Will Hunting for the thirtieth time, something occurred to me. I’m not going to be doing these holidays alone. She’ll be there with me. I’ll be there with her.

 

We will be there together, and so it will be okay.

 

 

Today I’m grateful for: boyfriends who are patient. 

Home Fires

 

My parents are getting divorced.

 

Now, before I go any further, I’m not looking to throw myself a pity party here. I mean, I’m twenty-three. I had a relatively drama-free, two-parent childhood. I have functional relationships, and very few lasting scars. It could be so, so much worse.

 

Still, they’re my parents. It doesn’t tickle. And it’s messed with my understanding of what my family is, of where I come from. My concept of home is shifting, and the idea of the holidays creeping closer fills me with a kind of discomfort I’ve never experienced.

 

The best I have been able to do is remember that my tribe extends way beyond the four people in the photograph on my desk, that even when I feel like I’m losing my footing I have built myself a web, Charlotte-style, to catch me on the way down: there are friends from high school who have loved me through innumerable bad clothing choices and all manner of adolescent meanness, and soul sisters from college who are scattered across the country but rooted deeply in my spine. The Lost Boys I lived with after I left the dorms never fail to make me smile, nor do the giggling girls from every job I’ve ever had. And of course there is Leprechaun’s family, the huge hollering clan of them, who write and call and send boxes full of Minute Rice and mayonnaise, because you never know when you’re going to run out of things like that.

 

As the fall creeps in—as it gets darker and crisper and the boats start to disappear from the harbor—I want to gather them around me. I want to bake them pies. I want to start traditions of my own so that the next time something shakes me like this (and something will shake me; that’s the nature of somethings) I’ll be ready.

 

Here’s how I’m building my home—and my web—this season:

 

1. Cranking up the oven. I wasn’t kidding about the pies. For me, nothing says autumn like comfort food, and I’m looking to keep my kitchen smelling delicious. On the agenda are pumpkin bread, all manner of roasts, and maybe a casserole or two. I’m trying to keep our food supply as local as possible, so I’ll keep hunting the farmer’s market until it shuts down at the end of November.

 

2. Opening my doors. We had a constant stream of visitors for much of the summer—the roof deck makes for easy entertaining. Now that it’s getting too cold to use it, I’m looking for some creative alternatives. I’m a huge fan of potlucks, and I’ve got some ideas for a Halloween costume party, as well as a sort of alternative Thanksgiving—more on that as we get closer.

 

3. Getting out of town. Frankly, nothing makes me want to throw my energy into cultivating my home like leaving it for awhile. I’ve got plans to see friends all over the place this autumn, trips to Philadelphia and New York and Michigan, if I’m lucky. Leprechaun and I have a vacation in the works, too, and I can already tell this season is going to fly.

 

4. Making a clean sweep. Before I go ahead and batten down the hatches, it’s important to me that I’m only sharing this space with stuff I absolutely can’t live without. I’ll be going through my summer clothes before I store them, selling off some old books, and generally giving this place a good scrub.

 

So that’s what’s cooking around here for the next few weeks. What’s on your agenda for the fall?

Care Packages on the Cheap

My sister’s at college in New York. She’s an Education major with a cute apartment and a cute roommate, and generally spends her days being excellent and saving the world.

 

Every now and then I like to show my love with material goods by sending her a care package, but the first couple of times I did it, stocking the thing cost a ton—around twenty bucks to put together something nice. Not so long out of college myself, I couldn’t drop that kind of money too frequently.

 

Once I started playing the CVS game, though, it occurred to me that I could actually put together something totally great for a fraction of the cost if I gave it some time and thought. I found a box and filled it slowly over the course of a few weeks, depending on what was super cheap at Stop & Shop and CVS, and was actually sort of thrilled with the contents by the time I was done. I sent the package out yesterday, and it contained:

 

Covergirl Outlast lipgloss (free at CVS)

A bag of Chex mix (free at CVS)

3 SoyJoys (free at CVS: I know, I KNOW, I just posted about how totally foul they were, but I’m hoping she’ll like them more than I did)

A pack of Orbit gum (Leprechaun’s mom sent us a crate not too long ago)

A package of Kotex liners (.49 at CVS)

A box of Barilla Piccolini (.25 at Stop & Shop)

A little bag of Cacade PowerPacks (free sample)

A really excellent notepad pre-printed with Pro/Con lists (weirdly, I got two of these as gifts last year)

A 4-pack of Soleil disposable razors (2.49 at CVS)

A completely fantastic mix CD (if I do say so myself)

 

I had a blast doing it, and for a grand total of $3.25 I can start another one right away. Care packages for everyone, yo.

 

Now, my question for you all is this: the box still wound up costing like eight bucks to send. Any ideas for saving money on shipping?