communal circles: kumbaya carol

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I am excited to be participating in the Think Kit project again this year. Today's prompt: Communal Circles. What new circles have you formed? Any unexpected ones? Did you start a book club or hang out in a tea yurt? Maybe you re-upped with existing friends. Explore your kumbaya moment from 2015.

My kumbaya moment was when my college roommate came to visit this summer from California.

Carol and I lived in four different places in West Lafayette (above Harry's Chocolate shop and in two different houses on North Salsbury Street and an apartment one summer that I can't remember the address).

We worked at two different jobs together (Skate-Away and the Ground Round).

We hosted parties (everything from kiddie pool parties in the front yard to a Dow Jones and the Industrials band reunion in my parent's barn).

I visited her in NYC during her semester at the Fashion Institute of Technology and sneaked into a few of her classes and slept on her floor.

We were liberal with our use of sketchy IDs to get into bars to see music and visit friends.

We shared clothes and cars and food and there may have been a brief overlap of dating the same guy (but we don't talk about that).

It has been about 30 years since I rode cross-country with Carol in her Fiero car to L.A. Can you imagine moving that far in a tiny car? Luckily we were both small and I didn't need to take much more than a toothbrush and some clean undies.

After Carol moved I visited several times, but the visits got fewer and farther in between. She was busy with her family, raising two beautiful children, and career and I had my life goin' on.

When she called this summer to ask if she could spend a week with me and volunteer at Second Helpings I was thrilled! For that week it was like we were back in college - living a one bedroom space, visiting with college friends, borrowing tee shirts, driving to the same job and talking about boys and jobs - although with better wine and roomier cars.

I am so grateful that we have reconnected - cheers to Carol and long-time friendships!

think kit day three - share something strange

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Today's Think Kit blogging prompt: Share the strangest experience of your year. Did you do something new or unexpected, see something out of the ordinary, or have a unique experience? What was so strange about it?

In some ways my life is one big ball of strange.

I work for an amazing nonprofit agency, have two great part-time jobs, am a columnist for a terrific neighborhood paper, and a few occasional freelance writing gigs. I love each and everything thing I do, even though I'm occasionally overwhelmed.

Second Helpings is unique - there is nothing exactly like it in the country. My work day is always different and typically at least a little strange. We rescue two million pounds of food a year and within hours turn it into thousands of nutrient dense meals. Did I mention the volunteer force of 600? Or the culinary job training program for unemployed adults who are struggling with barriers including incarceration, homelessness, and addiction?

Applying pressure to a bleeding wound, giving a tour to a donor, figuring out what to do with pallets of cabbage (that's a lot of cabbage), interviewing potential students, mopping the floor, answering mail, and meeting with co-workers is all in a day's work. Today, as a matter of fact.

Both the Red Key and Marigold are one-of-a-kind jobs with their own brand of fun strangeness.

Since strange seems to be my normal, I went for "out of the ordinary" for this prompt.

How many of you had a wedding in your backyard this year? 

Robin and I worked years worth of Saturday nights at the Red Key together - in lots of ways she knew me better than anyone. We would catch up in the news of week in 90 second bites. It usually centered around not-so-great relationships and such. I was so happy for when she met Tony - I could tell she was smitten and soon they were planning their wedding.

Finding a wedding spot that had enough room and would allow them to bring their own amazing home-made food, family made wine, and craft beer was proving to be a challenge.

I was thrilled when they took me up on the offer of my backyard for their special day. I am lucky enough to have a yard that is large, full of mature trees, and opens to the Monon Trail. Robin and Tony did most of the work of whipping the yard into shape - I'd let nature take over the lawn the last few years.

It was a beautiful day of sunshine, love, and community. Not the least bit strange, really.

Who wants to get married in my backyard this year?

happy feet

Like most people, I totally soak in the vibe of the folks around me and tonight I filled my positivity tank to the brim.

I got to spend the evening with one of the most positive and action-oriented and all-around cool folks that I am lucky enough to know - Robert Egger.  It was a lovely evening, spent with lovely folks in a lovely house - as you can tell, there was lots of lovely flying around!

Robert's brother, sister-in-law, and nephew live just a few blocks from me in this amazing home. It is  beautiful, cozy, and clearly home to a happy family.

Cheers to good vibes! 

all hallows eve

My favorite costume of the evening

I've felt disconnect from a long-time friend. Nothing major happened, but she moved a few miles away and I started a job with more regular hours. Then more time passed and it started feeling awkward.

We keep in touch through facebook and an occasional text or e-mail. I've been meaning to stop by her house like the good old days. But I was afraid that I'd be dropping in at a bad time.

What better time to ring the door bell then Halloween when people are expecting visitors? Sweetie joined me and we had a great visit with Kassie's family. It was wonderful to catch up and rekindle the friendship.

If I was a kid I'd mark their house for trick-or-treating next year. Kassie gives out the giant candy bars!

the big oh-four

 The girl one.

The Twins turned four last week. They are real live people now and I'm not even afraid of breaking them anymore, although Sissy took a tumble when twirling with the microphone that I gave her. Through her tears she determined that her birthday watch was not cracked and the microphone was fine. She wiggled her fingers and declared them "not broken. If my fingers were broken I couldn't pick flowers or open doors." She's discovered two of the joys of life already - flowers and open doors. I always joke that she is watching and soaking it all in waiting to be old enough to take over the world. She's well on her way.

Bubba throws his whole self into anything in his path exploring everything thoroughly. He makes sure that no stone is unturned, both literally and figuratively.

It has been a true joy to watch them grow up and selfishly I'm glad that I live just a few blocks away even though I don't see them as often as I should.

Happy birthday, kiddos!

line cooking

Awesome volunteers including Mom and sister Beth

It has been a hectic week between trying to catch up from being in Austin and getting ready to leave town next week. To top it off we have the student exercise this week where the students prepare lunch to order. 

The Line Cooking days are my favorite days - I get to be the expeditor - which means that I get to be the loudest person in the kitchen, calling the orders and controlling the timing. 

We also need volunteers to act as servers and food runners. I tap in to my great list of family and friends. While the line cooking days are filled with stress they also feature a good deal of laughter. 

fabulous jane

Jamie Ridpath, Nora, Jane Rulon

 

Jane Rulon was fabulous. 

Truly and genuinely fabulous. 

In the fifteen years or so that I had the honor of knowing her, my family always referred to her as “Fabulous Jane.” She had that certain flair that is hard to describe, but you know when someone has it.  I was shocked when I found photos of her that she was not wearing a scarf. In my mind she always had one draped around her beautiful neck. I even imagined her at home with stylish silk scarf over her bathrobe. She wore her gorgeous grey hair with aplomb, making me wish that I had enough nerve to do the same. All of her accessories had a lovely story. One of my favorite pieces was the glass ring that she purchased in France. She could make something funky sparkle.

Jane was a familiar face at art, film, and music events. She and I had the same habit of dropping in on multiple events in the same evening. I was delighted when I’d see her twice in one night without making a plan. She was a marvelous conversationalist, I loved looking over at parties and seeing her deep in conversation with one of my siblings or neighbors. 

She made everyone feel special. 

Jane made everything seem like an event, whether she was popping in to my yard sale, celebrating a birthday, or bumping into her at the State Fair.

She was a thoughtful gift giver and occasion-maker. When CATH coffeehouse closed, a group of regular customers put together a lovely celebration. Others provided the cake and food and keg. Jane arraigned with the Mayor’s Office to decree it CATH Day and listed all of the things the coffeehouse added to the community, which helped soften the blow of the café closing. 

She made a fabulous toast at fortieth birthday, and I was thrilled to celebrate my fiftieth with her. One of my favorite moments of that party was running into Jane and some other women in the washroom and having a great conversation. In case you’ve ever wondered what the inside of the ladies room at the Jazz Kitchen looks like, this photo was snapped there.

She once gave me a gorgeous paper crown made of sheet music and glitter labeled Queen Bee, just because it reminded her of me. Her gift for my fiftieth birthday was a shiny plastic Academy Award with an “envelope please” listing why I’d won. Both the crown and the statute reside in places of honor in my home.

Fabulous Jane died August 22, after a short illness. Her friends and family are hosting a Celebration of Jane at the Jazz Kitchen on Sunday, September 23. There will be music and food and everything Jane. Wear a scarf, bring a dish (something French would be fabulous), and share your Jane stories.

I’ll see you there.

Celebration of Jane
Sunday, September 23, 2012
The Jazz Kitchen
5377 N. College Avenue
3:00 – 7:00 pm

feet frequency fail

It tried, I really tried.

I had a grand and ambitious plan for 2011. I blame this guy - Doug W. ran every single day in 2011. And if that's not crazy enough, he blogged about it too. Every single day. Jerk.

I thought I could do the same thing in 2011. Not the running part - don't be ridiculous, the writing. Couldn't be that hard, right?

I had the idea that I would take a photograph of my feet that day and blog about something that happened along the way.

The photo above, of Doug and I was snapped on December 31st, after his last run of the year. I had a head full of good intentions and a belly full of stew and Guinness that afternoon.

I did pretty well the first two weeks. My parameters were that I had to take the photo that day and at least start the blog post.

That part was easy. Finishing the posts in a timely manner was not. Some days were just to frantic and busy. Or boring. Or sad. Or in some cases all four. I was missing out on some good stuff for lack of time and throwing up some junk just to check it off. I can't tell you the number of times in the last twelve weeks that I've fallen asleep with the open computer on my lap and jerked awake with the idea that I was failing.

I'm throwing in the towel on the blogging every day scheme. I just can't do it, and the myriad of other things in my life. There are several blog posts that were waiting for me to fill in the days between. I'll post them now, gap days be damned.

Starting now, I'll blog when I can, most likely with a foot photo.

Thanks for swinging by....

xoxox,
N.

mail

I got a package in the mail today. It was properly wrapped in brown paper and lots of tape.

The box inside was pretty swell too — a vintage clothing box, with a tag ostensibly signed by a friend's cat, that I watched this summer.

The box was chockful of vintage Saint Valentine's Day decorations.

Thoughtful, amazing and perfect.

icepolocypse 2011 day 6 - the super bowl edition

These sensible boots are on some stylish woman at a swanky hotel opening. I couldn't stand the snow boots one more day, so I broke out my brown 1970s Frye boots.

The JW Marriott is Indianapolis' newest upscale hotel. It has changed Indianapolis' skyline — it is now the seventh tallest building in Indianapolis.

It has been fun to watch the construction from our seats at Victory Field during the baseballs games the last two seasons.

I'm not someone who likes building for the sake of building, but the new hotel fits into the skyline. The building has a gentle curve that mirrors the center of the town, Monument Circle. 

I was invited by the opening by Risa, who was on the Bahamas trip last Super Bowl Sunday. It was almost like being in the Bahamas. With an ice storm and winter coats at a potato fork, which I still need to navigate walking up and down my driveway. The valet parking guys were kind enough to not point it out, although they had to wonder what the heck it was doing in the front seat.

You can see a photo of me and some swanky folks at the party by clicking here — we made the  Talk of our Town section of the Indianapolis Star. Society folks at our finest!

I loved seeing everyone and drinking a fancy $10 pomegranate Cosmopolitan and pretending I was one of the swells.

I feel like the article calls for a Paul Harvey, 'rest of the story' explanation.

First of all, I worked at the Red Key last night and it was 4:30 in the morning before I was showered and in bed. Up at 9:00 for a meeting at church, then 10:30 Mass, followed by working at Marigold all day. Not to mention that the ice made everything from walking to driving difficult.

At half time of the game I started to head to the washroom but decided to go to the lobby to call Dad instead. I knew that he would enjoy hearing about the new hotel, all of the televisions, who I was hanging out with and the fancy drink. 

Dad sounded a little odd and swore that he had not dipped into his homemade wine. I asked if he wanted me to drive out, and he did. Which he never does. 

I thanked my hostess and joined my friends in the valet queue. I was concerned enough that I didn't take time to go to the restroom. 

The drive to the farm from downtown took about 25 anxious minutes. 

I drove straight back to the chicken house, now repurposed to his workshop. Dad was fine and working on restoring an old cider press that he remembers using as a child. 

I was relieved that he was okay and slid back out the door to make the trek to the house and bathroom. 

I crashed through layers of ice and snow in my beautiful boots on the way to the house, falling twice. Trust me, falling in the freezing cold and struggling to stand up while having to pee is torture. Why did I leave the potato fork in the car? 

I finally made it to the house. The laundry room door was iced shut — three inched of ice kept the door from moving. I skated cross-legged and fell up the step to the kitchen door. Same deal, iced shut. 

Back to the work shop, more falling, more crashing through the ice-crusted snow, to burst into through the door. 

N: [hopping from foot to foot] Dad! How do you get into the house? 

D: [looking at me like I was nuts] What do you mean? 

N: [exasperated] How are you getting into the house?

D: I use the ski pole.

N: [shouting] What? 

D: The ski pole I found in the ditch. 

N: [with tears of frustration] How. Are. You. Opening. The. Door. To. Get. In. The. House? 

D: I wonder how a ski pole got in the ditch. It's amazing what I find out there. 

N: [screaming] Dad! I NEED to get in the house. 

D: The doors are frozen. 

N: Yes! Have you been living in the workshop this week? 

D: [looking at me like I'd said the most ridiculous thing ever] I go through the garage. 

N: [so relieved I almost wet my pants] How do you get in? 

D: Through the garage. 

N: How. Do. You. Open. The. Garage. Door? 

D: I push the button. 

N: What button. 

D: I think it says 'enter.' 

I crashed back out the door, this time following the path of the driveway, and using by best ice-skating techniques made it to the garage door. I flipped open the key pad (things are getting modern at the farm) and jabbed 'enter' with my mittened finger as hard as I could. 

Nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

Arrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhh. 

Remember that bad word that Ralphie said in A Christmas Story, when he was helping his dad change the tire? 

That was my mantra all the way back to the work shop. 

N: Dad! I couldn't get the garage door open!

D: Did I tell you there was a code? 

N. Nooooooo....what is it? 

D: I haven't told you the code before? 

N: I don't know....can I have it now? 

D: It's ****. Do you want the ski pole?

N: I'll be back. 

This time I took a different route. To the back of the cow barn. 

All of the practice of going to the bathroom outdoors in my farm-girl childhood paid off. The added layers of clothes and coat and sub-zero weather added to the fun. I did it. And didn't get any on my boots. 

And that is the rest of the story: from the society page to peeing behind a barn.

Ain't life glamorous? 

Dad and the damn ski pole.

icepolocypse 2011 day 5

It was very important that I get the car unstuck today. Because it was very important that I be sitting in this chair, reading a magazine and getting my hair cut (and let's be honest, some color too).

At first I thought I could walk to the appointment. It was only a mile away, a mere ten blocks. Ha! Not on this ice. Not even with the potato fork.

Friends to the rescue! As much as I like to think I can do everything myself, pushing the car out is a team effort.

Don used a pick axe around my tires. I tried not to micro-manage, but an axe, near my tires. Really? Trust, it's all about trust.

Scott shoveled and pushed. 

I might have given this helpful message the finger. 

In the end, we freed the car. Don drove and I joined Scott pushing and it popped right out. I was able to guide the car down the icy hill without hitting the vehicle parked on the street across from the driveway. 

And I got a kick-ass new haircut. 

icepolocypse 2011 day 4

Christos and Nora

Are you getting tired of seeing the snow boots? I know that I am tired of wearing them. 

Another day, another precarious trip down the driveway with the help of the potato fork and hitching another ride to work (thanks Kipp!). 

Work was a little more 'normal' — maybe 'typical,' is a better word. School is still canceled. The three inches of ice on the sidewalks and parking lots makes it too dangerous to send the kids out. Although at this point I think I could come up with thousands of parents to hack away at the school entrances. 

Today is the first Friday of the month, and there is a city-wide First Friday initiative to celebrate the arts. Most galleries are open and new work is unveiled. My friend, Christos Koutsouras, is in town for his show at the Indianapolis Museum of Contemporary Art. I had been looking forward to it for weeks and intended to go - ice be damned.

My friend Jake fetched me, and the potato fork from work to go to the show. It was Jake's first visit-ever to an art gallery and I was happy to share it with him.

Christos and Jake

Christos work was on two floors of the building and included an installation piece (which basically means that you build something on site, just for the show). 

I wish I would have leaned the potato fork against the piece - it already reminded me of a corn crib. If you looked though the slats you could peep at some amazing drawings and studies Christos' has created. 

It was also the first art opening for the twins. The girl is the perfect height to see the art.

inside the piece

The boy twin.

The show was great - on the second floor was some of his earlier work. I also enjoyed seeing Christos in his element. Although I suspect that everywhere is his element. 

When he lived in town there was a period that we spent some time together. As you might guess, I tend to be pretty jumpy as a rule- always worried if I am doing the right thing. Christos really worked on teaching me to be present in the moment - and not worry what everyone else is doing. 

He's also very confident and I admire that, but is happy to laugh at himself too. He's one of those guys that in the course of saying hello winds up with his hand on your ass, and somehow you don't care - and moreover, it doesn't seem offensive. I'm not sure I can explain it. 

The show - and his painting of the sea was a nice respite from the ice. 

lazy sunday

There is still plenty of snow, if anyone wants any.

Today was a lazy day. No work, no deadlines.

Church, than  back to bed.

I managed to rally long enough to go hear music and visit a new brewery downtown, Flat 12 Bierworks. 

The very talented Tad Armstrong and Brian Deer were playing.

And I got a brewery tour.

It's nice to see how the other half spends Sunday.

surprise!

My friend Kevin turns 30 this week and I was invited to his surprise party tonight.

I can't decide which freaks me out more - the fact that I'll be 50 this year or that I have such young friends. I always joke that I'm either terribly hip and cool or horribly immature. In my friendship with Kevin, it floats to the hip and cool side.

I wish I had it together at 30 as much as Kevin does. He's co-founder of Standard Recording Company, he serves a mean Jameson and water at Locals Only, is supportive of the music community and is a healthy relationship with a beautiful and smart-as-a-whip woman. What I find most compelling about Kevin is that he's genuinely kind.

I'm not sure that I ever shared this story with Kevin, but the first time I met him he called me "Ma'am," from the stage! I'd won a CD at the Standard Recording Party and when I went to collect he called me that dreaded word. I've let that go....almost.

I have about seven words that make me want to punch someone in the nose and that is one of them. Since I know you'll ask, the dreaded word list also includes: lady, puke, busted (in place of broken), butt* and others I can't mention in a PG13 blog. 

Anyway, back to Kevin - he makes me proud to live in this town and know that a whole 'nother generation is concerned about making our community a better place to be. The fact that they include us old folks is a bonus. 

*I think that 'ass' is a delightfully hilarious word.

work tamped down with more work

Waitress station, Red Key
Pipe [bottom right] is a chute where returnable beer bottles used to travel to basement.
Trash can [top right] is my nemesis.*

Today was a busy day of work followed by work. I've been spoiled the last few weeks and have only worked one job on Saturdays. I've tried to be protective of my Saturday afternoons, but was happy to work at Second Helpings today. 

We had some great volunteers come in and paint our training kitchen today. I couldn't paint my way out of a paper bag. I've lived in my house for over a dozen years and it has never once occurred to me to paint my walls.

Luckily, there were lots of people who did know what they were doing. I'm a damn good wet towel fetcher and spill wiper-upper. Everyone has a talent.

I raced home to clean the house. And by clean, I mean finally taking the wrapping paper to the basement and scooping the towels off of the bathroom floor. I didn't have time to ditch the vases of pine boughs or sweep or dust or put away the piles of Christmas gifts or cards. I'm ashamed to admit that I shoved some junk under the table - and it's not like you can't see under the table, but it made me feel better. Sort of like a play pen for piles of stuff.

I was doing the panic cleaning because NYC John was flying in at midnight and spending the night at my house before making the trek to his hometown. It's not like I haven't known it for days, I just thought the cleaning fairy might think it was a good time to show up.

No luck.

The Red Key was a little nuts, I got busy later in the evening, cooking right up until 10:00. Then the joint filled up with youngsters. The Red Key is doesn't serve pitchers or fancy shots so we don't get many people in their mid-twenties and early-thirties.

One of the youngsters wanted to fix me up with his dad. Who was there. That got awkward quick.

NYC John's timing was perfect. He walked in the door just as the dad was demanding my phone number. I'd admit that I didn't explain the big hug I gave John and handing him the key to my house to the group. I let everyone drawn their own conclusions.

Between youngsters, the late night, the lack of nap, the trash dumpster being across the icy parking lot and locked, I was good and grumpy by the time I got home.

A hot shower and catching up with an old friend was exactly what I needed to erase the furrow in my brow.

Life ain't so bad after all.

*that trash can is my nemesis because it has a swinging lid top and people love to stuff it to the gills. It's hard to get the bag out of and I typically have to wrestle it to the floor at 2:00 in the morning to empty it. It is bleached out the night before and there is usually bleach water at the bottom. I've ruined more skirts and pants and tee shirts because of that damn can than anything else in my 30 year restaurant career.
Sounds petty, but I'm allowed to hate one thing about my job, right? 

morning radio

My fancy new radio. And yes, those are Scrabble pajamas. What of it? 

I struggle with routines. I worry that I will get too set in my almost-fifty years old ways. Then I worry that I don't have enough structure in my life. Clearly, I worry about worrying.

I have the structure of work and deadlines and putting gas in the car and paying bills and putting trash on the curb on the right day. But that's about it. Once I hit the door of my house there is not much I have to do. I can let the laundry pile up, have an empty refrigerator, let the water glasses collect next to my bed and watch episodes of Californication until 1:00 am.

Conversely, I can put my nose to the grindstone and write for hours or get involved in a book or binge clean and not worry about feeding anyone but the cat.

I do have a bit of a morning routine, besides brushing my teeth and taking my vitamins.

I listen to the radio.

As I putter around the house and get ready I carry it with me from shower to kitchen to getting dressed. I have two dear friends who are part of this morning show -- one as on-air talent and the other is the producer. Another friend books the guests and keeps the machine going. I love listening to the show, I feel like I'm getting to spend time with Kristi - and will occasionally talk back to the radio. Yes, I know she can't hear me.

The show is full of innuendo and sophomoric jokes and skits that make you groan or laugh so loud that you snort and scare the cat. I love every second of it. Sometimes I'll shoot Kristi a quick e-mail about something they are discussing. And sometimes she'll quote me on air, "my friend says blah blah," and I'll get so excited that I don't care that they guys invariably make fun of me.

Listening to the radio in the morning also reminds me of mornings at Grandma Leona's house. The radio was always on in the farm kitchen. The local station would report the weather, commodity prices and obituaries. I hung on every word, even though I was young and none of the information pertained to me. I just thought it was the coolest thing ever.

I didn't have a portable radio, well, ever, now that I think back. I missed the whole Walkman phase and never had a transistor radio.

When I really became friends with Kristi I bought a plastic shower radio. It had a giant plastic hook and I would carry around  as I got ready, exchanging it for my keys as I walked out the door. Monday, as I was juggling bags of Tater Tots and coats to take to the farm I dropped it. And it flew into several non-duct tape-able pieces.

I can't believe how much I missed it Tuesday morning.

Do you know how hard it is to find a radio that is just a radio? It took me four stores to find one - I think I scared the kid behind the counter at Walgreens by my giggling at the cheapo radio. Now I have two things with an antenna, the radio and my television. It's like 1964 at my house.

All was right in my world this morning. I had another radio.

top ten day of the year

Before the sled ride actually started. 

Our dad has a big Martin Luther King, Jr. Day Fish Fry at the farm. You can read about the party in 2008 here and 2009's party here. We all know about my lack of blogging in 2010, so there is no post, but it was fun, trust me. 

One of the things I like is the predictability of the day.  Ann and I meet at the farm and roll out dough balls in the kitchen while Dad cuts fish. We all know what to do and where everything goes. We laugh at the same things and tell old stories. And Ann and I invariably have forgotten a Christmas gift that we've purchased throughout the year, so there is some unwrapping.

It was cold as could be this year - which I don't mind. My little food safety heart loves nature's freezer. And you just have to drink the beer quicker so it doesn't get too cold and explode. Common sense, really.

This year there was just the right amount of snow for a sleigh ride. We pulled Dad's refurbished 1840s sleigh the old fashioned way. With a John Deere B tractor.

For one trip I waved for my brother to stop so I could jump on to the sled behind the sleigh.

I learned a few things on the sled ride:
J.R. won't stop the tractor to let me on, but he will pull over for a dropped iPhone.  

Brothers never outgrow the urge to get their sister to 'eat snow.' He was doing his best to dump me, much to the kids on the sleigh's delight.

I'm a heck of a lot tougher than I was in my younger days. In fact I'm not sure that little girl Nora would have been brave enough to even jump on the sled.

After

The most important lesson? Sledding in a dress is not the best idea.

This year was another great mix of family, friends, priests, neighbors and fried food. I think I ate my weight in Tater Tots.

My guess is that there were over 100 people that popped in over the course of the day. I know that I was in a hot Euchre game at midnight. And I was by far the youngest one at the table.  

trophy

I've been bowling in the Chatterbox league for a couple of years now. No one is more surprised than me.

Like most things, the idea to bowl started with a beer and conversation with new friends. It seemed like a really good idea at the time. And so far it has been. I've meet some great people and turned acquaintances in to friends.

I'm subbing again this round, which fits better in to my crazy schedule. I don't feel so guilty about the times that I can't be there.

This morning, in preparation for the new season  I retrieved my bowling bag from where it had been shoved between the sofa and the bookcase for the last month. I unzipped the bag to discover a big wad of white socks. I took the time to toss the socks in the washer and grab a fresh pair. Which I left in the kitchen. I blame the cat.

I giggled as I purchased yet another $8.00 bag of  socks this evening...I was wearing a beautiful $4.00 thrift store coat, but I wouldn't dream buying of second-hand socks.

I was thrilled to find that I'd won a trophy last round. I had to miss the bowling banquet last month, so I missed the official presentation.

The team I subbed for was brand new and they thought they were bowling with a bad-ass competitor - after all I traveled with a trophy.

It took just one roll to shatter that notion.

Here's to getting back into the Monday routine of hunting socks, laughing. high-fiving and blowing the day's Weight Watcher points on a slice of pizza and a beer.

the best laid plans....

typewriter, 49th and Broadway

I'd been looking forward to Thursday - I'd spent three nights in a row at home (gasp!) and had a full evening planned - in fact I was joking earlier that  'Thursdays were the new Saturdays. Everything seems to fall on Thursday...

6:30 - band practice
8:30 - Danny Flanigan and John Byrne playing at the Corner Wine Bar
10:00 - Hotfox playing at the Melody Inn.

And since I'd planned no wiggle room things started to fall apart before they even started.

I didn't leave work until 6:15 and the roads were slick and I've driven like an old lady since I was 12 so I didn't get home until almost 7:00. I tossed some food toward the cat, grabbed my typewriter and some pastries and ran out the door, forgoing changing into something cute.

I drove to practice and juggled the typewriter, baked goods, my camera and a diet Pepsi as I walked toward the house - as Dad would say, this was a classic lazy man's load. I was thinking that I should set something down and come back.

I kept walking.

And the inevitable happened.

The case popped open and the typewriter bounced off of my foot and into the intersection.

I scooped everything back up - thank goodness the pastries survived - and burst through Cara's front door - arms loaded, red faced and full of apologies. 

Which shocked the heck out of Cara, since it was not band practice night.

I left the baked goods as a peace offering and went to Plan B - joining up with the Girls Night Out dinner that I thought I couldn't attend. I missed the dinner part, but it was good to join the conversation and laugh and talk about boys and the future.

The party moved to the bar to finish our drinks. I like most music and even if I don't, I appreciate that folks have enough guts to get up and play. I do have a few musical prejudices - I take an immediate dislike to any guitar player wearing a tie-dye shirt. And the duo was was playing to a prerecorded sound track, which is just weird and wrong. I had a headache and furrowed brow by the time I got out of there.

And I was late for seeing Danny and John. I got there just as they were done. Boo.

Since I was 0 - 2 for my plans, I sent a text to a member of the next band before I drove to the venue. Sure enough, they'd canceled their set. I had a slight freak-out when I realized that I was texting with a 19 year-old college freshman. The fact that I'm older than his mom didn't help.

I ended the evening by wandering through yet another grocery store looking for cranberries. I forgot to do my annual stock up. No luck on finding those either.

Boy is my timing off...

nyc

My feet: ice skating at Rockefeller Center, December 9, 2010

I got to spend a whole day in New York City last month!

Beth took this great photograph

The short story is that we have a family friend who is a pilot and had use of his company plane for the day. Dad gathered a group that included a priest, his sister and niece and my sister, Beth and my friend, Novella.

Beth got to ride in the co-pilots seat on the way there. 

Here is the route...it only took us a little over two hours to get there.

Flying on a private plane rocks - no security check or scanning. I could have taken gallons of liquids if I liked...I didn't, there is not a potty aboard. We did have homemade cookies and other goodies.

 Russ helping Dad exit the plane.

We landed at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey and took a shuttle van to Rockefeller Center. Beth, Novella and I opted to walk and window shop (and shop shop) while the others had lunch. 

Saint Patrick's Cathedral

Like good little children of God, we wound up at Mass at Saint Patrick's Cathedral. As Beth pointed out, they were saying Mass on a continuous loop - one ended and another started.  Like a not-so good child of God I took advantage of the electrical outlet by the font of Holy Water to charge my iPhone.

We browsed museum shops and actually visited one. The American Folk Art Museum was lovely. We saw quilts and an exhibition of work by Eugene Von Bruenchenhein. Eugene was a quirky guy - Outsider Artist is probably the proper art term. The collection highlighted his poetry, pinup style photographs of his wife, ceramics and miniatures build of guided turkey bones. I'm sorry that I didn't take more photographs but I was too busy clutching the walls trying to not freak-out by the layout of the museum - my fear of heights was kicking in big time. 

The museum had a wonderful cafe - it was fun to have a fancy lunch - chicken salad and diet Pepsi in a wine glass in the beautiful space without worrying about rushing back to work or anything. The exhibitions were great, but it was worth the price of admission for a warm restroom and the coat check.

We bundled back out into the cold and headed back to Rockefeller Center. Ice skating was at the tops of my list for the day.

Nora and Novella on the ice

I'm proud to report that we skated for half an hour and did not fall once. Click on the video at the top of his post for some exciting skating action.

We followed the skating with cocktails in a swanky bar and dinner at a lovely Italian bistro and window shopping.

Through the wonders of facebook, I knew that there was a fundraiser for soup kitchen/homeless services at NYC John's church on the Lower East Side that evening. I sent him a text that morning saying that we were in town and planning on attending the event. I asked if I could help with any errands and was delighted that he had a project for us.

We met him in the lobby of the NBC Studios, where he had just finished his work with Jimmy Fallon. That was the day Paul McCartney was on the show. I got to shake the hand of the hand that shook Sir Paul's hand. Click here for a clip of Paul from that day.

John loaded us down with raffle prizes for the fundraiser and shepherded us on to the subway.  He kindly bought our tickets and led the way through the tunnels.

John getting us through the turnstile.

Dad reaction to entering the subway for the first time: This is where it all ends! I'm sure a few commuters thought the same about us when we burst into the subway car with hats with flaps and boots and armloads of raffle prizes.

The fundraiser was in a bar not far from the church. Dad was making friends and I was meeting folks - the minister of the church is from Indiana as was another guy that I met. I was grabbing a card from my bag in the coat check when I noticed that Dad had his coat on and was heading out the door. I grabbed him and asked where he was headed...."taking a taxi to Times Square."

Whoa! Hold up papa!

I plucked the drinks from Beth and Novella's hands, bid a quick good-bye to John and we piled out the door. 

It was fun to kick around Times Square pop in to shops and walk under the bright lights.

We had a slight panic when we got separated for a bit back at the meeting place, but Dad was finally able to convince someone to use their cell phone to call us. 

Now who wouldn't let that charming man use their phone?

Since we weren't on a commercial flight, it didn't matter what time we left - it was after midnight by the time we were "wheels up."

I sat in the co-pilots seat on the way home. I tried my darnedest to stay awake, but I just couldn't do it. In fact I got a good elbow to the ribs at one point. My guess is that I was either snoring in to the pilots headphones or ready to fall into the steering mechanism.

All and all it was an amazing day. If I've need a boost in the last few weeks, I just play the video of my feet ice skating - guaranteed to make me giggle!