You Can Always Go Home Again: My LeBron Moment

You Can Always Go Home Again: My LeBron Moment

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

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On my last day of classes at Kent State University in August of 2007, I sat in a corner of the Daily Kent Stater's newsroom, looking out the wall of full-length glass windows to the grassy hill outside. It was a sunny day, Ohio-perfect, & I was fully conscious of the fact that this was my last time to enjoy this part of my life. This was it, & I wanted to enjoy it as much as I could.

On the phone with my mom, sitting on my knees on a spinning chair as I watched students pass by outside, I told her: "I'm going to D.C. for a year, & then I'm going to come back to Ohio." I'd committed to a 12-month job in D.C., but I imagined grand plans for a life in Cleveland when it came to an end.

As much as I meant it at the time, that's not exaaaactly how it all ended up. At the end of that first year in D.C., I was offered a more permanent job - so I stayed, happily, & it was a fantastic three years of growth & friendship & learning to love myself. Eventually, I hit a bit of a rough patch (read: I quit my job & couldn't afford to stay), so I did move back to Ohio, but just for a brief four months. At the time, I was dating someone wonderful who just so happened to live in New Hampshire, mandated by the U.S. Coast Guard, so I found a job there & moved in with him. Then we moved again, also mandated by the Coast Guard, & then, when we eventually broke up, I moved back to D.C. because it seemed like the best place for me to be if I was going to be by myself again. Needless to say, I never really made it back to Ohio.

"You've moved a lot," people often tell me, out of sheer insistence upon stating the obvious. Yeah, guys, I know. I know.

I've moved a lot, & it hasn't always been easy or wonderful & it certainly wasn't part of my plan, but I don't regret my life or my choices or my locations. Still, I've always said I'd move back to Ohio "when the time is right." I've always known I'd go back eventually because I've always wanted to go back eventually. I returned to D.C. last November because I had an inexplicable sense that it was the place I needed to be at that time. From the outset, though, I knew this would a time-limited return to the District. I just hadn't decided exactly how limited that amount of time would be.

I still hadn't decided, right up until last month.

Last month, I spent two weeks visiting friends & family in Ohio, mentally planning my eventual return & what a life in Cleveland might look like for some future version of me. And then one weekday afternoon, as I was driving back to my mom's house after an afternoon at my favorite coffee shop in Kent, it dawned on me, one of those lightbulb-above-my-head kind of moments: "I could move back to Northeast Ohio right now, if I wanted to."

And as it turns out, I wanted to. I want to.

In a decree of fate, I returned to D.C. later that week to find that my rent will go up by $100 at the end of November, when my lease expires. Sure, I could stay here on a month-to-month basis, paying that higher rent & not saving a damn thing, but... why? Why bother? It's expensive here, so expensive that I can't afford to do most of the things that would allow me to enjoy my life here the way that life here ought to be enjoyed. And while I love my friends & my office & my life in D.C., the simple counter-argument against living here is just that Ohio beckons. Because Ohio has always beckoned.

So on November 21st, I'm going home.

The details don't matter; trust that I'll share them with you eventually. For now, all that matters is that this feels right. For the first time since I moved to D.C. in 2007, I'm moving because I want to, not because I feel like I have to. I'm not unemployed or bound to the military or in the middle of a breakup. I just want to be someplace else - so I'm going there.

An unexpectedly wise man from Akron once said, "In Northeast Ohio, nothing is given. Everything is earned. You work for what you have." And like LeBron, "I’m ready to accept the challenge. I’m coming home."

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Stashing my Cache

Stashing my Cache

Sunday, July 15, 2012

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Nathan & me on cache-stashing day

Before leaving New Hampshire, Nate & I pledged that we'd create our own geocache someplace in Portsmouth as a way of leaving a bit of ourselves behind. We spent half a day looking for the perfect place & ultimately settled on an old tree trunk on the outskirts of the old cemetery across from our apartment, overlooking a body of water called Curriers Cove. It was just difficult enough to find that we were proud of ourselves; you had to hack through some brush & brave some rocks to reach the cache in its hiding spot, which we aptly named "Junk in the Trunk."

A few days after I submitted the cache to the official geocaching folks, we got bad news: Our cache had been denied. Apparently there's a 500 feet rule, & ours didn't fall within the parameters. It was too close to another cache near the same graveyard, despite the fact that the two were a good half an hour apart in terms of brush & overgrowth. Disappointed but undeterred, we headed back to the original spot to retrieve our cache so that we could re-hide it. We found that it was a good thing our cache had been rejected... because it had floated away with the tide!

After scouring the area for a new, within-the-rules hiding spot, we settled upon one we were still able to name Junk in the Trunk. Last week, I got an email from the good folks at Groundspeak, who confirmed that our new cache placement had been approved - quickly followed by an email saying that someone had already found it!

All this to say that if you're in Portsmouth, I urge you to register with Geocaching.com & download the app so that you can track down our cache.

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Saying Goodbye to the Granite State

Saying Goodbye to the Granite State

Friday, July 6, 2012

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For our spent our last weekend in the 603 (that's, uh, the entire state of New Hampshire's area code, by the way), Nate & I traveled up to the White Mountains with our friends Mike & Jill. First, I'd like to note that these two are friends I made all by myself, as adults, on the Internet, & successfully transitioned with them into real-life friendship, both individually & as couples. I spent all this time whining about having no friends in the Granite State, but when it came time to move, I was crazy disappointed to leave Mike & Jill behind. Luckily, Mike is from the Hamptons & they travel back regularly, so we're bound to see them again soon!

Back to the roadtrip: Neither Nate nor I had ever been up north, but Jill is a lifelong New Hampshirite, so they knew the ropes. We first stopped along the Kancamagus Highway to wade in the Swift River on a morning when the water was particularly low. The big, smooth rocks were covered in butterflies!

We also spent some time Googling a criminal we dubbed "Kanc Man," a dude who stationed himself in the women's latrines along the highway so he could watch ladies doing their, um, business. Twice. He was arrested for this two times. We also realized that the only two movies we can think of that involve children standing waist-high in feces have both won Oscars for Best Picture. Two points to you if you can name them.

We got stuck in a monster hailstorm driving up Mount Washington, so bad that lesser drivers than Mike pulled off the road to wait it out. I wished we could take every vulnerable motorcyclist into our car for shelter!

We visited Attitash Mountain Resort, where we were among the last to ride the Mountain Coaster before it closed for an incoming storm. This rickety, roller coastery thing carries you up into the woods, then you control your speed on the way down; I, of course, wobbled my way down, never hitting max speed, & accidentally took the last turn so quickly that I thought I'd fly off the tracks & die in the woods of New Hampshire.

We also got stopped by a state trooper but didn't get a ticket, got thisclose to a chipmunk, witnessed one hundred & seven Mini Coopers caravaning down the mountain together, ate cake balls from the Vintage Baking Co., shopped at a general store, & geocached at a covered bridge. The only downside was that I sat in gum. While wearing black pants. And still can't get it out.

All in all, a good day. The perfect way to see off the Granite State!

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All Dressed Up With Someplace Totally Incongruous To Go

All Dressed Up With Someplace Totally Incongruous To Go

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

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What's that? Oh, just a hoard of young adults in Victorian garb walking through downtown Portsmouth in the rain on a Tuesday afternoon. NBD.

In case you're curious, no, I have no idea what their final destination was, but I did follow them in my car for long enough to see that they stopped at Gilley's, a local place recognized on Man vs. Food for its insanely greasy grub. That's exactly what I want to eat while wearing a purple velvet blazer & a dress with a taffeta bustle!

Hey, you. Yes, you!

Have you liked Suburban Sweetheart on Facebook yet? 

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Quirky Weekend, Lovely Life

Quirky Weekend, Lovely Life

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

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There's nothing quite like a three-day weekend to refresh a slightly downtrodden soul. Nathan had to work overnight on Friday, so I spent the evening drinking PBR in a can & catching up on reading blogs. No photos are available because I was so tired & downtrodden that I became immediately drunk & fell asleep early.

When I awoke on Saturday, Nathan was home... & cooking breakfast burritos! They were supposed to be breakfast tacos, but, um, he bought the big tortillas. Whatever, that doesn't make them any less delicious. I like anything that involves chorizo.

There's a joke in "American Reunion" in which Kevin rags on ex-girlfriend Vicky for posting photos of her meals online. Nathan likes to mention this any time I snap a pic of our culinary creations, but Instagram beckons, y'all, & I do not want to disappoint.

My friends Jeff & Michelle came up from Boston on Sunday, & we were proud to show them around Portsmouth & show off our cute little town - you know, right before we vacate it. I took another food photo because after 15 months in New England, I finally ate my first lobster roll - & let me tell you, it did not suck. Thanks to The River House for selling "lob dogs," four-inch lobster rolls that aren't too overwhelming for first-timers like me. And for having a sweet deck overlooking the Piscataqua River that was perfect for a sunny Sunday.

And then we had the best cream ever in the history of ever and took awkward pictures in front of some shark graffiti.


On Monday - BONUS WEEKEND! - Nate & I decided to walk downtown, which is about a two-mile walk. Not far, but just far enough that we don't do it very often, mostly because I am the absolute definition of an indoor kid. We neglected to consider the fact that it was a holiday & that there might be a parade happening (& honestly, what parade happens at 1pm?) but alas, a parade was about to begin just as we reached the square. A couple hundred people lined the streets, anxiously awaiting... an ambulance, two bands, MacGruff the crime dog, & assorted other city folk. The whole parade was exactly the length of one James Brown song - specifically "Get Up Offa That Thing," which I know because we watched the parade from inside a pizza place, & that's what was playing as it went by.

 

Nathan recently described Portsmouth as "white people run amok," & nothing says that quite like a Segway tour. What were they even touring?! What is there to say?! This is just, like, a side street in suburbia. "On your left, folks, you'll see a parking deck to the left, with some spacious metered spots to the right, and a bank up ahead. Enjoy the sites!"

On our way home, we stopped to look for a cache in a cemetery near our apartment. In the process, we were thrilled to find a hidden little precipice overlooking the river, where Nathan capitalized on the opportunity to skip a few rocks. I would totally want to have a picnic here sometime, if we weren't leaving town in four weeks.

 

I found the cache & subsequently marveled over this photo of me looking much, much skinnier than I actually am:

On our way home, we spotted this headstone. Did I feel bad giggling about someone's grave marker on Memorial day? Unequivocally yes. Could I resist? Clearly not.

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Oh, When the Saints Come Marching In

Oh, When the Saints Come Marching In

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

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Who says nothing exciting ever happens in small towns? Sure, I haven't ridden the Metro with a chicken here, like I did in D.C., but that doesn't mean I don't see quirky, quaint things every day in downtown Portsmouth.

Take last Friday, for example: I was leaving my favorite tchotchke shop, Macro Polo, when I heard the music. Literally. Big-band music, live, coming from somewhere nearby. I rounded the corner & found that on the town square (yes, the town square - three cheers for small towns!), a rag-tag band had assembled, made up of members of varying ages. Some were wearing costumes & others wearing their everyday duds, but all were wearing smiles. They had no sign identifying them, no bucket out for collections, & no apparent purpose other than to make passersby happy.

My personal favorites, of course, are the barefoot young girl in the tutu & the spirited, middle-aged majorette. Happiness mission totally accomplished.

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The Conclusive List of Wonderful Sandwiches

The Conclusive List of Wonderful Sandwiches

Friday, January 6, 2012

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I am not, nor have I ever been, a sandwich person. Sandwiches fall apart. Sandwiches get mushy. Sandwiches contain cold cuts, & I dislike cold cuts. Sandwiches contain condiments, & I dislike condiments.

But every once in awhile, a great sandwich comes along – a sandwich so tasty that not even a sandwich-hater like me can deny its delicious allure. Here, friends, in no particular order, are the Top Five Greatest Sandwiches Of My Life:

• Pesto Chicken Salad Sandwich
  Wolfgang Puck Express at the Washington, D.C. Convention Center
  I’m going to be embarrassingly honest with you here: I don’t even remember what made this sandwich was so good. All I know is that as I ate it, I proclaimed aloud to my mother, “This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had in my entire life,” & it's held that title - or tied for it - for a solid five years. Despite my poor memory, it makes the list based on the lasting impression it made.
  
  
• Pesto Veggie Panini
  Me & Ollie’s in Portsmouth, N.H.
  This simple sandwich is simply delicious. It’s made with basil pesto, sundried tomato mayo, tomato, red pepper, alfalfa sprouts, red onions & melted provolone on Me & Ollie’s homemade sourdough, served with pretzels on the side. I don’t even like vegetables, but I love this sandwich.
  
  
• Chorizo & Potato Grilled Cheese
  Melt Bar & Grilled in Cleveland, OH
  Calling this behemoth a grilled cheese is like calling the Titanic a boat: technically true, but there’s so much more to it! Melt specializes in gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches, & their chorizo & potato creation is, hands down, my favorite. It’s also too tall for me to bite into. Every go-round with this sandwich results in my needing to nap immediately.
  
  
• Breakfast Panini
  Popovers in Portsmouth, N.H.
  This sucker is definitely not just for breakfast! With applewood bacon, tomato, pesto, & fresh mozzarella on rosemary focaccia , it doesn’t sound like anything special, but it’s pressed so thinly that it’s like it’s gift-wrapped. Gift-wrapped bacon! It comes with a side of fresh cut melons & berries to help allay some of my bacon-induced guilt.
  
  
• Cheddar Dill Tuna Salad Sandwich
  Totally Cooked To-Go, Cuyahoga Falls, OH
  What? A simple tuna salad sandwich? Yes. And no. This tuna salad sandwich is the tuna salad sandwich to end all tuna salad sandwiches. (How many more times can I say that phrase?) I used to call Totally Cooked before coming in to be sure it was on their menu for the day before coming in because if I arrived & it wasn’t, the disappointment was, obviously, debilitating.

Runner up: My very own Big-Kid Grilled Cheese: muenster, goat cheese, baby spinach, crumbled walnuts & a smear of fig jam on ciabatta & pressed in my George Foreman, panini-style. It felt unfair to list this among my top five, as I made it myself. Still… it’s delicious.

There you have it. The Best Sandwiches, period. What are yours?

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New England Eats

New England Eats

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I've made no secret of the fact that sometimes New England feels like a foreign land to me. What with the accents & the unspoken driving rules, I'm a fish out of Midwestern waters here sometimes.

We've already discussed the fact that New Englanders refer to milkshakes as "frappes" & that I'm not a fan of the top-loading hot dogs buns popular here.

• Lobster rolls
  This one is a gimme. Maine is, hands down, the country's premier destination for lobster lovers, & lobster rolls are one of the most delicious ways to consume this popular crustacean. Lobster rolls are buttery grilled hot dog rolls (not the typical weird New England kind) filled with a cold lobster salad concoction of tail, claw & knuckle meat & mayo. Did you know that some New England McDonald's even sell a seasonal McLobster Roll? Not a joke.
  
  
• Anadama bread
  Made of cornmeal & molasses, this bread is a New England staple I've yet to see elsewhere in the country. I've never tried it, mostly because it sounds heavy & because the only place where I ever order toast (incidentally named The Friendly Toast) has such good cayenne-cheddar bread that I'd never dream of ordering anything different.
  
  
• Whoopie pies
  Apparently Maine & Pennsylvania are duking it out over who "owns" whoopie pies. Legislators in Maine voted it the state's official treat last March, much to the dismay of Keystone State residents, who call these sweet treats "gobs" & contend that the dessert's origins come from the Pennsylvania Dutch. Regardless, believe me on this one: New England loves its whoopie pies. No complaints here!
  
  
• Baked beans
  When ordering brunch in New England, your options are usually hash browns or baked beans. Say what? I love me some baked beans, I'd just never have thought to eat them from breakfast. Cookouts, yes, brunch no. But I guess it's not totally crazy: Why do you think Boston is called Beantown?!
  
  
• Roast beef
  I can't find any Internet proof of this craze other than the fact that a Google search for "New England roast beef" brings up pages & pages of sandwich joints that specialize in roast beef, which I'd never heard of before moving here, aside from Arby's. I can think of at least three roast beef shops in Portsmouth alone.
  
  
• Popovers
  A cross between a croissant & a custard, popovers are hollow, muffin-shaped pastry puffs that are crusty on the outside (in a good way) with a gooier, egg-like texture on the inside. They're great with jam & even better in soup, but I'd never heard of them before moving here.

By the way, Wikipedia tells me that Portsmouth is famous for its orange cake, which is not something I've seen anywhere. It's a shame, too, because, hey, that sounds kind of delicious.

So tell me: What foods are unique to your neck of the woods?

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Keep the Quirks Comin'

Keep the Quirks Comin'

Monday, October 10, 2011

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If you haven't noticed by now, I'm mildly obsessed with regional differences - in dialect, in food, in thought. I've already written about the abomination that is the Boston Left, the penchant for vanity plates, & the Oh, God, that accent.

I've already done a round-up of New Hampshire oddities, but guess what? I found more.

1. I spent awhile looking at the menu of the Friendly Toast wondering what the hell a "regular frappe" was & asking aloud if they sold milkshakes. Apparently, frappes (pronounced "fraps") are milkshakes. If you order it as a milkshake, they ask you if you want ice cream in it. Wait, what? That's because a "milkshake" here is just flavored milk. Yes, really.
   
   
2. There is no normal bowling here. Instead, there's candlepin bowling, which is, as far as I can tell, the miniature golf of bowling. Stick-straight pins (called "wood" - ha), smaller balls & weird scoring. Regular bowling, which cannot be found here, is commonly referred to as "big-ball bowling." Candlepin bowling is only found in Canada, Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts... & one location in Wyoming, OH, which no one has ever heard of, so it doesn't count.
   
   
3. Hot dogs buns are different. I know, you're like, "Who notices this?" but hey, I do. Hot dog buns here aren't your typical doughy potato rolls. Apparently, what they have here are called "top-loading buns," which amount to a folded-up piece of white bread that doesn't hold up well against condiments. I don't like condiments, but that's not the point.

In short, I continue to discover that New England is a foreign land. Never fear: I shall report additional oddities as they are discovered.

Images: Bun , milkshake, bowling

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Bridge Over Covered Waters

Bridge Over Covered Waters

Sunday, September 18, 2011

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When I was a kid, I hated "drives" more than anything. On weekends, it was common for my parents to decide that we should "go for a drive," which just meant wandering aimlessly through the many open roads of Northeast Ohio - in the days before GPS, no less. Even now, I equate these drives with Amish country, where we often ended up.

But this weekend, I became my parents. I was in Vermont for work & thought it'd be a great opportunity to, you know, go for a drive. Remembering fondly a trip to look for covered bridges with my dad, uncle & cousin when I was 6 or so, I decided I'd embark on a Vermont covered bridge hunt of my own. There was one in downtown Woodstock,  where I was visiting, & I figured the "hunt" would end there. This bridge is the second picture to come up when you do a Google Image search for "covered bridge," so I figured it'd be a good one, & I wasn't wrong:

Beautiful no? It's right in the middle of downtown Woodstock, still used as an everyday road through town. It may sound silly, but I've rarely felt so connected to my father as I did standing underneath this bridge. Quiet, old, a little bit eerie - I don't know much of my dad, but I knew he would've loved this one. It was just perfect.

A pair of shivering Floridians took this photo for me. Where is my left arm...?!

And the view from the bridge is gorgeous, though it betrays recent flooding in the area from Tropical Storm Irene:

When I explained to a local woman my interest in covered bridges, she let me know that there were two others in town! I couldn't find one of them, which was badly damaged in Hurricane Irene, but I happened across this one, which is, sadly, shut down because of aforementioned flooding & damage from flying debris. Still, this bridge fared better than so many of New England's historic covered bridges, which were washed away in Hurricane Irene. (For example, this video broke my heart.)

Seeing my Facebook posts, a friend suggested I head to her hometown to check out the longest wooden bridge in the U.S. (perhaps second only to New York's Old Blenheim Bridge, wiped away during August's storm). It was about half an hour out of my way, but what's half an hour when you've got all day free? I decided to go for it.

Along the way, I: stopped at a garage surely hosted by a woman storing bodies in her freezer; tried (to no avail) to visit a bakery located in an old firehouse; and wandered through a very, very old graveyard.

Finally, I stumbled across the Cornish-Windsor Covered Bridge when I literally, you know, went across it. It spans the Connecticut River between Windsor, VT, & Cornish, NH, & I spent the duration of my 15-second drive confident that mine was going to be the car that sent the old bridge crashing into the Connecticut. Let's be honest: Covered bridges are a little creepy.

This view is from the New Hampshire side, which is much better than the Vermont side, if I may say so myself. The Vermont side just looks like... a bridge. Here it is again, with Vermont's Mount Ascutney in the background. Don't you love the fine warning? Walk your damn horses, people!

I'm cranky to learn tonight that there are three other covered bridges in Cornish, just down the road from where I was. I wish I'd researched this beforehand! I could've scored half a dozen covered bridge sightings in one morning! And yes, I know I might be crazy, but I think I'm just become a covered bridge enthusiast. Anyone else? Bueller?

And now, in case you couldn't already tell, another requisite New-England-is-beautiful photo:

And finally, a question. Why on earth does the gas station I stopped at in Vermont carry this much bacon?!?!

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You Know You Live in the Sticks When...

You Know You Live in the Sticks When...

Thursday, September 15, 2011

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You're So Vain, You Probably Think This License Plate is About You

You're So Vain, You Probably Think This License Plate is About You

Saturday, August 20, 2011

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I know my last two posts have been about driving, but bear with me, OK? Let's call it a series of sorts. We'll act like it was intentional. In fact, this post has been in the works for awhile, & now it's time for me to share it with you:

 

Apparently vanity plates are very inexpensive in New Hampshire, as evidenced by the fact that nearly everyone has one. I actually take bizarre joy in walking through parking lots now that I live here because there are so many ridiculous vanity plates to be found. My apartment complex's parking lot is jam-packed with them; the parking lot of the bus station is the best place to go plate-spotting because it's, like, the largest lot in the world. Or at least in New Hampshire.

Needless to say, I've been gathering photos for this post for awhile now. I actually had even more to choose from (60ish in total!), but I decided to cut 'em down for the sake of highlighting the really good stuff. Ladies & gentleman, I present you with 36 of the most stellar vanity plates in the Portsmouth area.

 

When I was 16, I drove a Dodge Colt (read: CLUNKER) & was desperate for a vanity plate that read "K8SCOLT." God bless my mother for refusing to shell out the cash for that atrocity.

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Shut Up & Drive

Shut Up & Drive

Thursday, August 18, 2011

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Things I don't like about driving in New Hampshire:

1. Stupidly combined lanes
   At Ohio traffic lights, it's common for the straight lane & the right-turn lane to be one & the same. This makes sense, as neither requires waiting - when the light turns green,  you just go. In New Hampshire, however, the straight lane is usually combined with the left-turn lane, which means you can't go straight until the guy ahead of you (& the guy ahead of him & ahead of him) has turned left, which means waiting for oncoming traffic to subside... just so you can go straight. Am I taking crazy pills, or is this absolutely nonsensical?
   
   
2. Traffic circles
   Or roundabouts. Or rotaries. Or whatever you want to call them.I don't necessarily have a problem with them, as they're a fairly logical means of connecting multiple roads, but as I have The Worst Sense of Direction Ever, I spend a lot of time driving in circles. Literally.  
   
   
3. Sneaky left turns
   You know what people in New Hampshire looooove to do? Turn when it is not their turn to turn. (Say that five times fast.) But seriously. When stopped at a red light, it's common knowledge that the person heading straight has the right of way; the person waiting to turn left must, you know, wait. But not here. Here, the first person waiting to turn left typically hits the gas like a bat out of hell & turns left before the person going straight (i.e. me) has a chance to step on it. This is an accident waiting to happen. Also, it is rude. 
   
   
4. Drawbridges
   There are two in town, & they open every 30 minutes, which means that you're approximately 100% likely to get stuck waiting on one. And did I mention that one of them isn't even drivable anymore because it was condemned? Yeah, they'll be rebuilding it in 2014. Convenient.

Things I do like about driving in New Hampshire include this license plate, & perhaps this license plate alone:

He lives! Kreacher will be so pleased.

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Chalkin' It Up to New England Language Barriers

Chalkin' It Up to New England Language Barriers

Friday, July 8, 2011

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Yesterday, I decided to switch up my normal routine, which consists of wearing sweatpants to work until noon, showering on my lunch break, & working from my home office until the end of the work day.

"Be around people!" I told myself. "See the sun!" So I got in my Civic, bound for the downtown Starbucks, in the heart of it all. I parked a block away, paid my $2, & got to work. When two hours had passed, I got up, walked that block, paid my $2 for another two hours, & got back to work. When I walked to my car later, before the second round had expired, I found this gift on my windshield from the Portsmouth PD:

The ticket threw me for a loop, because my meter hadn't yet expired. The ticket was written at 3:36, but my meter ticket clearly showed that I'd paid through 3:58. Being the diligent adult I am, I picked up the phone & dialed city hall to better understand what I was being ticketed for.

This is where it becomes obvious that I do not speak New Englander Endlandese English. Without exaggeration, the conversation went as follows:

"They chawked y'TY-ahs," the woman on the line told me impatiently.
"I'm sorry?" I asked, seeking clarity.
"They chawked y'TY-ahs!" she yelled again. Helpful.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what this means," I said, losing patience & hope & confidence in my mastery of the English language.
"Chawk! They chawked y'TY-ahs!"
Sigh.

It went on like this for some time, her defining the phrase by repeating the phrase, & me failing to understand either the words or the meaning. Finally, I was able to deduce that the police used chalk to mark my tires around noon, then ticketed me when I fed the meter instead of moving my car upon expiry of my initial meter. I didn't actually realize it was illegal to do that, nor did I realize "chalking tires" was a thing, both of which contributed heavily to the misunderstanding.

More importantly, I felt like an idiot. I am able to perfectly understand my friends from Peru, Venezuela, Japan, Israel - all "difficult" accents that don't faze me. But throw a bona fide New Englander in the mix, & it's like I'm fresh off the boat. Say what?

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Keep It Classy, Portsmouth!

Keep It Classy, Portsmouth!

Sunday, June 12, 2011

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In case it's not bad enough that your license plates bear the worst state motto* in the union...

*I take that back, actually. Maryland's motto is "Manly deed, womanly words," and California's is simply "Eureka!"

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Granite State of Mind

Granite State of Mind

Friday, June 10, 2011

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Things New Hampshire doesn't have:

• Sales tax 
• "A brand"
• A Libertarian party 
• Chlamydia
• Groupon
• Early voting
• People who aren't white
• Seat belt laws
• A maximum-security women's prison 
• Big cities
• Trader Joe's
• Income tax 
• Normal bar hours
• Trash pick-up
• A Lieutenant Governor 
• Newborn babies
• Casinos
• Any inmates on death row
• Mormons & Muslims
• Whole Foods
• Multiple area codes
• Pizza delivery
• A good state quarter
• Sports teams
• Any Democratic Congressmen
• Russians

Mixed bag, huh? But our state drink is apple cider & Jumanji was filmed here. I can get down with those.

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A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Sunday, June 5, 2011

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I am notorious for waking up early on weekend mornings... & then promptly falling back to sleep. Quite often, I think, "Today I'm going to get up & go to the farmers' market/brunch/the Unitarian Church/the grocery store/ANYWHERE THAT'S NOT MY COUCH," & then I return to slumber, only to wake up past noon. I've not yet reached that point of adulthood where I consider 9am to be "sleeping in," though I'm still hopeful that such a day will come. Eventually.

This morning, however, was a pleasant anomaly. After two particularly restful evenings, I awoke at 9:30am & decided I would, in fact, get out of bed. AT NINE-THIRTY A.M. This is seriously unheard of. And beyond that, I also decided to leave the house, making today something like one in a gabillion.

It was a gorgeous afternoon, & I spent it wandering downtown Portsmouth, checking out the scenes & enjoying the day. Though I recognize that this post is a bit of a change from my regular hilarity - and humility! - I thought I'd show you how pretty Portsmouth is so that next time I whine that I don't love it here, you can remind me, "BUT, KATE, IT'S REALLY PRETTY!" You don't have to use caps, though, please, or else it will feel like you're yelling at me. Those were just for emphasis on my part.

Without further ado, I present to you "A Taste of Portsmouth: Unfiltered."

It was the perfect day for exploring, 65 & sunny, which made for sweaters-and-sandals weather, my favorite. And of course, I still got sunburned.

After much, much rain, spring has finally arrived! The result of our torrential downpours & near-tornadoes is lush greenery. Nevermind that cement, the prevalence of which has nothing to do with excessive rain.

I don't like boats. But I do like trying to determine what I'd name my boat, if I had one. (Which I wouldn't, because I don't like boats, but still, sometimes I like to entertain Joey & Pacey fantasies, OK?)

And then I stumbled upon this little cemetery, where the oldest gravestone was dated 1652.

 

The engravings on the headstones were just fantastic, really Dia de Los Muertos-esque. When I die, can someone please make sure that I get one of these suckers? Like, maybe the one on the left? I want kids to hold seances around me, "Now & Then"-style.

 

And then I found this:

Say it ain't so, Sam!

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Accidental Counterprotest?

Accidental Counterprotest?

Friday, May 20, 2011

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I have a few questions about the photo below. Questions like, "Why is the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile in Portsmouth, New Hampshire?" and "Why is it sitting in a hotel parking lot?" and, of course, "Why are abortion protesters picketing the local diner?" (Some of their signs had the restaurant's name written on them, but not in conjunction with any message directed at it.)

But mostly, I want to know this: Am I the only one who finds it pretty darn funny that abortion protesters chose to picket right next to a giant wiener...?

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