101 in 1001
Showing posts with label 101 in 1001. Show all posts

Lessons Chicago Taught Me

Monday, July 25, 2011

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I attended a family wedding in the Windy City over the weekend, & though I could identify no cohesive theme to the weekend (besides, um, love, obviously. I mean a theme for me), I've gleaned a few key lessons from my brief travel to Chi:

  • Spritzing a little bit of super-hold hair spray to the soles of your feet will keep your fancy new Cole Haans from sliding off.
  • If you have to airspray your shoes to your feet, you probably shouldn't buy the shoes.
  • Do not let the waitstaff refill your white wine glass. I repeat, do not let the waitstaff refill your white wine glass.
  • If you apologize to the bouncer the next day, you will probably make a new friend. Webster at Roof at TheWit Hotel, this one's for you.
  • Conversing with distant relatives is exhausting.
  • The Midwest produces miraculously delicious seafood (see: lobster ravioli).
  • I like any wedding with food stations at the reception.
  • All foods on sticks are delicious. Ditto for all foods served in martini glasses or wonton wrappers.
  • Black-Eyed Peas songs will be banned from my wedding, should such a day ever come. Except "I Got a Feeling" because... well, just because.
  • I am the MacGyver of wedding attire. Distraught when I realized my dress was admittedly too low, I tore the attached beige slip out of my back-up dress & wore it underneath. It looked a little dumb, but it matched my shoes, so I think I pulled it off all right. Take that, Richard Dean Anderson.
  • No matter how much I love my dress, my grandmother will probably hate it.
  • Hava Nagila is the most fun wedding tradition, period. For once, Jews win.
  • A rough day of travel is no excuse for neglecting to call your best friend on her birthday.
  • I, too, am a sucker for a man in uniform.
  • Hot weather causes foggy camera lenses.
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Booze, Bullets & Bedding (Alternate Title: Haircuts & Handguns)

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

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Oh, hi, it's been 11 days since I've written. But nothing funny has happened in the past 11 days & thus, I've had nothing to write about.

BUT.

I spent last weekend at my favorite place on earth:

I've written about it before, the hunting club where my faux-uncles are members. My Uncle Dennis, who was my dad's high school best friend, likes to tell the story of the time in 1977 when 14 couples & no kids came to Bear Hollow for the weekend - when they were young, before we existed. And now? My cousin Patrick is on his way to becoming a member himself, & soon that'll be us.

There's no cell service at Bear Hollow, so it's always an excursion spent in blissful disconnectivity. And just like in days of old, we find other ways to entertain ourselves. For example:

Someone brought habanero tequila.

And someone else brought guns (it's a hunting club, guys).

I read a lot of Mary Higgins Clark & wore leggings as pants all weekend & did not shoot anything:

My boyfriend spent a lot of time looking like a hipster, which he is not.

My mom & my Uncle Michael took turns giving my cousin's wife a Justin Bieber haircut.

There were Australian cowboy hats.

And cute dogs.

And a rousing game of Apples to Apples & an inexplicable number of fold-up chairs from Dick's Sporting Goods.

And a bonfire, where we played Never Have I Ever & someone secretly vomited - still no idea who, though we have our suspicions. Also, my cousin's wife misunderstood the rules of the game & thus accidentally admitted to having a penis.

I took an impromptu camera lesson from a family friend & spent much of the weekend taking photos that qualify as artsy in no one's mind but my own.

Did I mention the front porch?

Or the taxidermy menagerie?

And don't worry, we didn't go fishing.
 
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"I Never Want to Drink Anything That's Not Lemon Juice."

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

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Have you ever heard of flavor-tripping? I've been wanting to do it for a loooong time. And yes, I recognize that it sounds illegal. The New York Times assures you it's not.

My friend Joey bought "miracle fruit" tablets online, & though it sort of felt like we should be taking them at a rave while wearing glow-in-the-dark necklaces, we set up shop on my mom's back porch & prepared to trip. Our spread of foods came from the 24-hour Midwestern Mecca that is Sheetz & entailed, in part:

The instructions told us to let the tablets dissolve on our tongues. "THIS IS PROBABLY X," the Paranoid Future Jewish Mother section of my brain screamed. Needless to say, there was much skepticism:

I don't know what sort of packaging X comes in, but I suspect it's more like plastic baggies & less like cute Asian flowers:

And so we began, though not without trepidation:
This is my Trepidation Face.
And then... we ate! In truth, we were a bit disappointed in the strength of the miracle fruit tablets - which is to say that they weren't particularly strong. But the effects were still noticeable. Let's do a line-item analysis, shall we?
  • Glazed chocolate donut: Tasted just like a glazed chocolate donut
  • Guinness: Less beery, but certainly not the chocolate shake the New York Times promised me
  • Gummy bears: WAY TOO SWEET
  • Pineapple: Pineapple
  • Warheads: Shockingly unsour. Gimme another!
  • Limeade: Very sweet. No hint of sour. No hint of the gross way limeade typically tastes.
  • Lemon juice: Even sweeter. Please refer to title of post. I want, I want, I want. All of the times.
  • BBQ chips: My favorite chips tasted like cardboard. Do not want.
  • Salt & vinegar chips: Freaking amazing. I usually hate this flavor, but I had to refrain from my urge to nom the entire bag.
  • Tabasco sauce: Lingering spiciness, but by no means unbearable
  • Peanut butter fudge Oreos: Peanut butter fudge Oreos. No complaints here.
  • Blue cheese: Blue cheese. Complaints here.


The verdict: Worth a try, but I'd like to flavor trip again with the "right" foods on hand or the actual berries instead of just tablets - or maybe in a professional setting, like at the flavor-tripping parties hosted in big-city bars (D.C., I miss you).

Additional verdict: When I do it again, I will bring a vat of lemon juice. And also a pound of Tums. Those are for later, though I do wonder how they'd taste while trippin'...
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And I'm Like Baby, Baby, Baby, No...

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

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When people tell me, "I have good news & bad news. Which do you want first?" I always ask for the bad to start because I'd rather end on a good note. Like, if the entree sucks, at least dessert is coming. For this post, an in-the-moment recap of my less-than-awesome travel experience from New Orleans to Boston on Monday morning, I have set it up in this bad entree/good dessert style. I am, you see, ever the optimist! (Ha.)

I wrote this post on my iPad while on the plane*, but I'm just now posting it because a post-travel bout of The Plague had me down for the count for the past 48 hours. That counts as a sucky entree. The good is that... um, the plane didn't pull a "Lost," I guess? Though it's definitely cold enough for a polar bear up here in New Hampshire right now. ANYWAY. Onto the business.

***** 

The bad: When I attempt to pay for my airport breakfast of Diet Coke & an almond/flaxseed health bar (where is McDonald's when all you want is an 8am McGriddle?!), I realize my debit card is nowhere to be found.

The good: I am thrilled to learn that the cab driver who dropped me off at the airport has located my debit card in his backseat. I think he never gave it back to me & was possibly attempting to steal it, but it's more possible that I am simply a paranoid, neurotic individual.

*****

The bad: It will cost me another $33 plus tip for the cabbie to return to the airport to drop off my debit card.

The good: The cabbie has time to drive back to the airport to drop off my debit card. Also, I am a paranoid, neurotic individual, which means I arrived at the airport a full two hours before my flight, giving me plenty of time to deal with such shenanigans.

*****
The bad: I have already passed through security but will have to do so again after retrieving my debit card. The security line, which was short upon my first go-through, is now approximately the length of a midnight showing of a new Harry Potter flick.

The good: A kindly TSA agent tells me I can go through the priority line on my way back through so I do not have to wait in the line a second time.

*****

The bad: On my second security go-through, TSA confiscates the fig jam I stupidly & impulsively purchased from the St. James Cheese Company (& had initially managed to smuggle through lax security). As added punishment, they also confiscate a miniature snow globe I'd purchased for my boyfriend as a souvenir. Apparently snow globes of any size are a terrorism hazard. Glitter is a deadly weapon!

The good: What I lose on souvenirs ($23, to be exact - that fig jam was fancy shiz), I make up for in cabbie kindness. Despite his 20-minute drive back to the airport to remedy my mistake, he did not charge me for the trip. He does call me "baby" - twice - but I'm willing to endure minor sexual harassment in exchange for the safe return of my sole source of money retrieval. Is this some form of lesser prostitution?

*****

The bad: When I choose Justin Bieber's "Baby" as my inaugural flight song, the teen superstar's photo pops up FULL-SCREEN SIZED on my new iPad. Because I haven't yet mastered iPad technology, I frantically swipe at a few buttons while the Biebs' swooshy-banged mug grins at the man sitting next to me, making me feel like a pop culture pedophile.

The good: The dude next to me is approximately 65 years old & does not speak English. It is my hope that Beiber Fever has not yet become a trend in his native Guatemala.


*This post is so long that none of you will read it in its entirety. That's OK. I'm conceited enough to post is anyway, sans editing.
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The Kid's Still Got It

Monday, April 4, 2011

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Alone on the NYC subway? Sorrrrt of creepy.
Six months & a handful of days ago, I packed my bags, loaded up an abductor van U-Haul & moved out of DC, which had been my home for three excellent years. In the past six months, I:
  • Moved in with my mom in Ohio
  • Freelanced for a hometown news outlet
  • Moved in with my boyfriend in New Hampshire,
  • Got a job that entails working from my living room

All of these podunk-sounding life changes, combined with the fact that I own a cat & have begun geocaching in the woods, might lead one - one like you, let's say - to question whether I've lost my city smarts in favor of becoming a country mouse.

The answer to that question is no, I haven't, & now I've got proof.

I spent the last week in New York City, & I'm proud to announce that, as the title of this post suggests, there's no groove to get back. It was never lost, just temporarily shelved.

While in New York this time around, I did a number of things I'm proud of. I:
  • Spent an evening in Harlem, which I accessed via subway & not cab - brave!
  • Slept in a hostel situated on a street corner rife with verbal disagreements that included lines like, "I AIN'T GONNA GET ARRESTED FOR THIS SHIT!"
  • Successfully navigated the subway from my friend's apartment on the Upper West Side to my office near Grand Central
  • Took a crosstown city bus from one friend's apartment to another, luggage in tow, then transferred to a nearby subway station
  • Only got stuck in the turnstiles with my luggage once, as opposed to the four times I got stuck on my last visit

    BONUS: In case you're wondering how can a suburbanite like myself makes her way in the big city, I come bearing guidance!
    • Don't hesitate. Look like you know what you're doing, even if you're not sure you so. If you walk a block in the wrong direction, you will live. Just turn around & fix your mistake. But if you look around nervously before you make turns, you will inevitably get flustered. And also annoy people.

    • If you must hesitate, do it elsewhere. It's OK to not know what you're doing or to get turned around. As a master of getting lost, I'm constantly struggling to read Google Maps, pull up my subway app, figure out what the eff I'm doing, etc. But when I need to take a breather & reorient, I step to the side or duck into a corner, someplace where I'm not going to act as a roadblock to every busy, bustling New Yorker trying to go about his daily business. In other words, move over.

    • Look kind of angry. Angry people do not bite their lower lip in confusion. Angry people do not look doe-eyed at strangers hoping they'll stop & offer up directions unprovoked. Angry people do not get distracted by architecture or the height of the Chrysler Building. Walk with purpose, & even New Yorkers will believe that you're a New Yorker. Or... at least not a proud suburbanite with a crippling fear of public transportation.

    • Act kind of nice. Asking for directions is totally allowed, as long as you choose the right person to ask. Go for someone who looks A) trustworthy, B) knowledgeable, and C) not in a hurry. Nearly everyone who fits these criteria will be happy to point you in the right direction. Literally.
    Also? Keep your eyes open. There is much to be seen:

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      Caching In On the Great Outdoors

      Sunday, April 3, 2011

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      On my list of Things I Really Want to Do Because I Don't Have Any Hobbies & I Think I Should (this list exists solely in my mind) is geocaching, an activity that combines two of my least favorite things: directions & the wilderness. I have distressingly terrible directional capabilities, & as a result, I am always, always lost, forever wearing down the battery on my phone because I require the use of my map app so much.

      Still, I like scavenger hunts, & geocaching is basically a GPS-assisted scavenger hunt with strangers. So today, with the weather practically tropical at a balmy 50 degrees, Nathan & I set out geocaching near our apartment. We downloaded a handy app called Geocaching.com Intro, which looks like a distant relative of Geocities (may it rest in peace) & provides a vague visual guide to finding nearby caches. After eating a hearty brunch & choosing a little totem to leave behind once we found the cache, we began our adventure.

      (A note: I thought about touching up these photos a bit, maybe hipsterizing them with one of the many popular iPhone apps that makes everyday pictures look trendy & artsy & like I'm a real photographer. Instead, I chose to keep them as they are - I think they're pretty impressive alone.)

      This is where we started:

      And this is where we wandered:

      And this is how excited we were about it:
      (This is where Nathan would like me to point out that he doesn't have a weird trash-'stache; it's just an unfortunate trick of light.)

      And then we kept wandering...

      ...and wandering.

      We knew we were close when the app blinked & told us, "YOU'RE CLOSE!" because we're smart like that. Don't I look excited? And not at all cold? I told you it was tropical out today!

      And finally, after just .28 miles, THERE IT WAS, hidden between two big rocks, weathering the elements & just waiting to be found!

      Naturally, Nathan claimed victory...

      ...& dove in to retrieve the hidden treasure.

      We started digging through the sundry items left behind by the geocachers who came before us.

      I confess to being slightly disappointed that the booty wasn't cooler (TWSS?). It mostly consisted of the kind of plastic crap you get from quarter machines outside grocery stores - a bendable alien, a baseball beanbag, a kazoo.

      We debated what to leave behind & decided upon a small plastic penguin, in keeping with the rest of the cache's treasures. Perhaps we'll save the Coast Guard coin for something a bit fancier.

      The log book was nearly full, listing all the folks who'd adventured there in the past. Including... someone else who was there today? We were more than a little bit weirded out to realize that the cache had only been found a few times in the past year - and that one of them stopped by hours before we got to it.

      And finally, we left our mark. Can you read it? It says, "4/3/11, Nate & Kate - our first cache!"

      And then we packaged it up, stuck it back in the crevice, & headed along our merry way.

      Did I mention it's pretty beautiful here?


      And then we went shopping & saw the new Jake Gyllenhaal movie, which is a little bit like "Panic Room" meets "Groundhog Day" without the violence or the humor. So, you know, not everything I did today was terribly out of character.
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      Making Friends in Real Life is HARD, Yo.

      Wednesday, March 9, 2011

      31 comments
      Thank you to P&G’s Have You Tried This Yet? program and Kroger for sponsoring my writing about trying new things and breaking out of my everyday routine. Click here to find great savings on high-performing P&G products at a Kroger store near you. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective, which endorses Blog With Integrity, as I do.

      In case I forgot to mention it, I moved. To New Hampshire. I know, I know, WHAT? I'd been waiting to move back to the Buckeye State, for-ev-er! (Spoken in a Sandlot voice, if you please) So what happened? Well, life happened - I got an awesome job that requires me to live in New England, & it just so happens that my boyfriend (pictured to the left, just for fun) lives in New England, so I made a logical leap: I moved in with him.

      So here I am, in New Hampshire, where I know exactly one person. And did I mention that I work from home? Waking up every morning & wandering into my living room isn't the best way to meet new people. My daily routine goes something like this: Wake up, shower, work, eat lunch, work, make dinner, watch TV, go to bed, rinse & repeat.

      Needless to say, I'm desperate for a break from my regularly scheduled program, preferably in a way that helps me make real-life friends instead of just the online kind (oh, I'm creepy). I hate sports & I can't knit, which most of the activities I've found in the area seem centered around, so I'm trying to get creative. Currently, my List of Possible Ways to Break From the Routine looks like this:
      • Take guitar lessons. I've had a guitar for five years now, & I can't play a single note. My 101 in 1,001 List challenges me to learn at least one song, no matter how simple, on my acoustic Fender, & maybe now is the perfect time! But... well, this won't help me meet anyone, will it? Just a guitar teacher. And then I'll spend all my time holed up in my apartment trying to get the notes right, & I'll never go outside again, & maybe guitar-playing will actually make me more of a hermit, after all.

      • Join Weight Watchers. I like to eat. I also like having friends. I thought that by joining WW, I could make friends with people who also like to eat but who, like me, are trying to eat less. Then, I'll have killed two birds with one stone by befriending folks who can also serve as a support system. Is that selfish of me? Or just super-savvy? You be the judge.

      • Try yoga. I am not particularly flexible, due in part to the fact that I have two stainless steel rods along my spine. It follows, then, that yoga is probably a stupid idea. But after reading about Julie's Bikram adventure, I'm tempted to give it a shot. I found this Yoga By Donation studio nearby, which means I could afford a class or two or 10, but I'm wary of being the sweaty, farty, totally unbendy kid in the class. I don't know that that's the best way to make new friends.

      • Join a book club. I found one in the area via Meetup.com, & as I followed along with their monthly picks before moving into the area, I grew more & more excited to join them. Until the month I actually moved here, when their book of choice was"20,000 Leagues Under the Sea." This month? "Ireland: A Novel." Now, I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but I can't help judging books by their titles & descriptions & the general boredom & apathy I feel toward them. Should I try anyway, if the pay-out may be book-loving friends? What a novel idea!

      • Attend a Unitarian church. This is also on 101 in 1,001 List. And yes, I'm still Jewish - so Jewish, in fact, that I work for a Jewish non-profit. But my grandmother, who is also quite Jewish, attends a Unitarian church; she & her Unitarian friends call themselves the Jewnitarians. If my family matriarch can get away with this, so can I. There's a Unitarian church down the road from my new home, but there's no indication that anyone under the age of 50 attends it, so perhaps this isn't my best bet, either... Sigh.

      • Volunteer. Somewhere. Clearly, I've not thought this one through, but I like the idea of making friends while doing good. Now if only I could figure out how to go about it. Or where. Or doing what. Who knew making friends involved making so many gosh-darn decisions?

      There you have it, my not-all-that-comprehensive list of ways to try new things while meeting new people. Basically, it comes down to this: Much as I love him, I'm tired of only ever talking to my boyfriend. And the jerk across the hall. And the occasional WalMart employee. I took a huge leap in moving here, & now it's time to take some smaller leaps that will help make this one all the better.

      So how do you make friends when you're not sitting next to them in sociology class or one cubicle apart? I'm ready to try (more) new things. As soon as I figure out how.

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        The Best of the Land

        Thursday, February 3, 2011

        19 comments
        You've been warned: If you hate looking at photos of other people's vacations, this is not the post for you. That said, I promise not to show you a bunch of slides (do people still use slides?) of scenery of places you don't care about. Rather, you can consider this a highlight reel of sorts, with commentary & camels.

        Readyyyyyy.... GO!

        On our first full day in Israel, our trip leaders asked us to close our eyes as we got off the bus & as we held hands in a row, they led us to the overlook of Haas Promenade, where they instructed us to open our eyes to one of the most breathtaking views I've ever seen. And then? We feasted.

        This? Is a smiling camel named Carl.

        This is my friend Jen & me riding a camel named Marjorie Laverne, so dubbed because we could not decide between Marjorie & Laverne. Creative, I know. But you guys: I could feel it breathe. And I could feel its body, like, shudder & sigh when it peed. And the camel behind me kept sidling up near my leg like it wanted to hang out with my foot in its big, camely mouth. So I looked like this a lot of the time:
         

        While roughing it(ish) in a Bedouin tent (with all the modern amenities, though I did get locked in a bathroom) in the middle of the Negev, we gathered around a campfire for a good old-fashioned singalong of such woodsy favorites as Tom Petty, The Eagles & U2. There I am, wearing green sweatpants that didn't keep me from experiencing the absolute coldest night of my life as we slept in a 50-person tent. But still, the singalong was nice.

        I took a lot of meaningful, inspirational photos from atop Masada, which we climbed circa 5:00am on a Friday to watch the sun rise. But I'd rather share this one with you, just because I want you to know how serious I am about my love for the Buckeye State:

        DEAD SEA. I was under the mistaken impression that you actually needed the mud in order to float, but nope - the mud is just for the fun of it! Also, did I mention that there was a dude sitting on the beach flashing us his man-bits as we floated by?

        Also, we played in a waterfall. Not the "Look at this whimsical waterfall!" kind of thing you find at, say, Disney World, but a real live (?) waterfall in the middle of a national park across from the Dead Sea. And hyraxes hung out with us. Or cowered in fear nearby, but still.

        While staying at Ohalo Manor on the Sea of Galilee, we did a little bit of a college throw-back by hosting a houseparty in what was essentially an Israeli dorm room. We welcomed everyone who entered the room with a hearty "AYYYYY!" & someone brought pepper vodka. And there was much happiness & merriment from some unexplained aerial view.

        This is my new friend Harrison, whose band, Earth Minor, is currently rocking my world (pun intended). Have you ever met someone who just deserved to be famous? Because Harrison is one of those guys. Hard-working & dedicated & passionate & the chillest guy ever - oh, & talented, obviously. Go buy his album, Dark Matters, on iTunes, & you'll want to give him a kiss, too.

        Because we Jews are all about tikkun olam, or the repair of the world, we spent an afternoon planting trees at a community garden. But because we are also largely a people made up of what I like to call "indoor kids," it was probably quite a sight to watch 40 of us swinging pickaxes. I'd like to note that I'm wearing a Sex Pistols shirt, which doesn't exactly scream "OUTDOORSY!" But whatever: My olive tree is gonna grow tall, y'all, & maybe I'll even force myself to like olives so that I can visit it someday.

        We didn't have much free time on the trip, but one night after closing activity, a participant asked if we could have some sort of directed outside-the-hotel time, so our group leaders led a pilgrimage to the Mediterranean Sea just outside our hotel. Jen & I threw a bad-luck charm into the ocean for a proper sea burial (long story), & then we celebrated the return of our good luck & the fact that we were, you know, standing in the Mediterranean Sea.

        Next to this particular stretch of the Mediterranean, there's a statue of something that resembles a hobo bag. Or a uterus. And is creepily flesh-colored. So naturally, we posed as though it were the latter. And if I may be so bold, I think I win the Best Awkward Face While Visually Referencing a Uterus Award. Which is a coveted one.

        I hate when people use the word "epic." But in this case, it just may be the only word to use. On our last full evening of the trip, our Israeli soldiers took us to a club in Tel Aviv called Gazoz, where we spent the evening dancing & drinking & being, in a word, epically happy. Just look at us!

        If you ask me, this picture will never not be funny. Starring Jen as some sort of futuristic, unhappy Yoda. Starring me with excellent photographic timing. And starring our friend Liz as delightfully amused by it all.

        Just hours before we left to catch a midnight flight back to New York, we stood in a circle on a hotel rooftop in Tel Aviv wearing matching hoodies & holding hands & singing cheesy songs & recounting our favorite memories & all the many lessons learned. This picture, I think, sums up so much of how I felt, minus all the tears that came right afterward.

        When we arrived at JFK circa 4:30am, Jen & I checked our bags through to Cleveland &... got an email that our flight had been canceled. We went to the GAP, bought new outfits for the day, & spent 24 hours wandering the Big Apple with fellow Birthright participants who were still in town. REMIX!
         

        And there you have it, my Israel highlight reel. There is so much I wish I could accurately recount, & the words still haven't come as far as explaining the actual impact of the trip on my neshama, or soul. Maybe they never will. So it's a good thing I've got these pictures, huh? And all these new friends? And a really strong urge to go back?
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