Ode to Adam, Part Deux

Look, it's no secret. I don't just like things, I love them. And I don't just love things, I consume them. I haven't found a way to strike a proper trichotomy in my interests. So it goes. When someone asks me my favorite musician or band, I always have an answer on the ready. I am proud to say it's been the same response since the first time I heard Mr. Jones on the radio when I was thirteen. It was the right amount of everything and it filled my body with dance in a way I hadn't experienced before.

Since then, I've seen the Counting Crows countless times. Perhaps this last time was the most magical and impactful. Sometimes one just witnesses a concert - this time, I felt like I was participating. I was intentionally present rather than just engaging in my regular singalong dancefest of concerts past. It kind of blew my mind. It helped that we were less than ten feet away from them. As such, I couldn't help myself. I (obviously) took 1,000 pictures of him. I will give you just a couple of the highlights; note, the room was quite smoky and the photographer was quite shaky because that's what happens when she gets excited.

Thanks to Alyssa for making this happen and to both Alyssa and Ashley for being awesome and loving the Crows with me.

Oh, and here's Jakob Dylan because The Wallflowers opened for them:

And here's us pre-concert:

I was down at the New Amsterdam staring at this yellow-haired girl

Mr. Jones strikes up a conversation with this black-haired flamenco dancer

She dances while his father plays guitar

She's suddenly beautiful

We all want something beautiful

I wish I was beautiful

So come dance this silence down through the morning

Cut Maria! Show me some of them Spanish dances

Pass me a bottle, Mr. Jones

Believe in me

Help me believe in anything

I want to be someone who believes

Mr. Jones and me tell each other fairy tales

Stare at the beautiful women

"She's looking at you. Ah, no, no, she's looking at me."

Smiling in the bright lights

Coming through in stereo

When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely

I will paint my picture

Paint myself in blue and red and black and gray

All of the beautiful colors are very very meaningful

Gray is my favorite color

I felt so symbolic yesterday

If I knew Picasso

I would buy myself a gray guitar and play

Mr. Jones and me look into the future

Stare at the beautiful women

"She's looking at you.

Uh, I don't think so. She's looking at me."

Standing in the spotlight

I bought myself a gray guitar

When everybody loves me, I will never be lonely

I want to be a lion

Everybody wants to pass as cats

We all want to be big big stars, but we got different reasons for that

Believe in me because I don't believe in anything

and I want to be someone to believe

Mr. Jones and me stumbling through the barrio

Yeah we stare at the beautiful women

"She's perfect for you, Man, there's got to be somebody for me."

I want to be Bob Dylan

Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky

When everybody loves you, son, that's just about as funky as you can be

Mr. Jones and me staring at the video

When I look at the television, I want to see me staring right back at me

We all want to be big stars, but we don't know why and we don't know how

But when everybody loves me, I'm going to be just about as happy as can be

Mr. Jones and me, we're gonna be big stars.. 

Eyes Playing Tricks

So I'm in Boston visiting my family on my Grammie's 96th birthday weekend. If you know anything about Boston, The Big Dig will be familiar to you. To the occasional Beantown visitor, however, it's easy to forget this inconvenience of epic proportions. Then, imagine my surprise when I went to select an ice cream flavor for the family to enjoy after dinner. I had to read the label three times until it finally made sense. Please excuse me while I retrieve my brain from the gutter.

Tomboy to Tinker(Belle)

I had the wonderful privilege of attending one of the most magical weddings ever a few weeks ago in Austin, TX. Congrats Russ and Santi! You two really do emanate such bliss together.

Just look at these handsome chaps in love

Santi, ever the fashionisto, carefully selected our wedding wardrobe, each sartorial detail complimenting the next in a way that can only be described as: "Belle Goes to Vegas". To make a Disney princess out of a girl who refused to wear a dress until 22 you need:

• One trumped, corseted, satin, canary yellow frock (this is the style - make it yellow with your mind)
• Sparkly chandelier earrings and matching necklace
• Carrie Underwood-inspired hair and make-up
• Culminating in: this look
• (Forgive me, I have recently fallen for bullets.)

Never mind I neither possess Carrie's trademark lustrous locks nor do I have hips that don't lie (suck it, double negative); in fact, they tell such tales I feared this dress would have me indicted for perjury. Nonetheless, I manned up, consumed a few less carbs, and traded tonic for club soda to accompany the frequent occasional cocktail. It worked and I shimmed my way into this bad boy.

Here's the transformation, from Tomboy to Tink.

Baseline: I think I was on the losing end of a sloshball (think drunken kickball) game here

Step 1: Blow dry and straighten naturally curly hair and form into defined ringlets

Step 2: Attempt to create a bump it sans tool with half a can of hair spray and 300 bobby pins

Step 3: Slather on enough make-up to make a drag queen swoon; add aforementioned sparkles; remove J. Crew duds

Step 4: Recruit your fellow princesses to ensure you don't breathe for 5 hours

Step 5: Befriend a tree

Step 6: Find your Prince Charming and dance your ass off for 4 hours

Step 7: Work it with all the princesses in your castle...

..Annnnd a gorgeous groom!

This was some of the most fun I've had in a long time. I highly recommend Disney-fying yourself for your next big event. I hope these 7 steps encourage even the most reluctant maiden. Just think: you don't even need to trade your voice for legs! Okay, all you Disney enthusiasts...I know, I know. I committed a Disney felony: Wrong princess - right sentiment!

In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle - a Boa is Worn Tonight.

I have been finding one thing I love about NYC every week. I don't always post about it but this week I am inspired by the philanthropic heartbeat of this city. Volunteering is actually a "cool" thing to do and people are so generous with their time and other resources. It's really something special.

Tonight I attended a benefit for God's Love We Deliver, a non-profit organization focused on delivering meals to those who are fraught with illness and their loved ones.

The party-goers were 75% gay, 24% elderly, and 1% Krause - my kind of party! I was particularly taken with a woman who must be in her 80's. At one point, she wheeled herself to the middle of the dance floor and -steadied by her walker- shook it in the style of Soul Train through a crowd of awed onlookers. I can't even.

I just adore Matt and James...and of course my gorgeous little sis (all pictured below). Thanks for the cheer up party, friends. I needed to wear a boa and dance my ass off to Whitney tonight.

Coming of Age: The Wonders of Being Ten in New York

I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art with my parents and sister a few weeks ago and I am proud to say this is probably my fifth visit since living here! Still, in all of those five visits, I have not witnessed anything like this and it made me chuckle for the rest of the day.

The Met carries art spanning ancient history to modern day Pollock - and everything in between. I usually find myself gravitating towards the European Paintings, The Annenberg Collection in particular, which houses so many of the French Masters: Manet, Monet, Renoir, Cezanne, Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Picasso. On this visit, I also stumbled into the Wolfe Collection, or as I now refer to it: The Nineteenth Century Playboy Collection.

Look, I am as mature as they come have no qualms about nudity and often fault Americans for being particularly prudish in their disdain for all things sex. Perhaps this is why I was so taken with what I am about to describe.

Picture a room full of these paintings:

Now picture you are ten. A ten year old boy. With your father. You are visiting the Met and seeing a few cool things (swords from the War of 1812!) and some less cool things (an Inkan tunic). This museum is huge and you are kind of over it. 

All of the sudden you see boobs! And butts! Naked ladies! Your father eyes this collection seconds before you do and realizes there is no turning back. At once, together you are staring at an orgy (although your mind lacks a word for this at your tender age) of four girls and one guy! Nevermind they are technically nymphs bathing as a satyr interrupts them. Your father's eye widen and he knows he is in trouble for not referencing the scouting report of off-limits areas your mom has carefully created for you to shield you from such obscenity. Alas, the damage is done and you cannot unsee these butts.

Collectively, you and your father begin giggling and clap your hands over your mouths to stifle the laughter in this sacred, hushed place. Your father is immediately transported thirty years back. You are equals and - as such - both equally embarrassed and intrigued at this forbidden site. Finally, after a few moments of stolen ogling, your father winks at you and takes you by the hand (and you still let him do this because you are ten), ushering you away to safer images of dancing ballerinas who are appropriately covered. You can't wait to tell your friends who will beg their parents for a Met trip, their parents thrilled at the unexpected opportunity for cultural exposure. Your friends, however, will be disappointed because your mom anticipated this and texted her scouting report to your friend's mothers. Your friends' only hope of such sights are the exposed boobs on a twentieth century Burkina mask.

I sat there and took this all in. I, too, was having a hard time containing my laughter. In some ways, the whole thing could have been taped and placed in modern art. I just kept thinking to myself: "This is totally how I want my children to learn about the birds and the bees."

So Many Celebrations!

I am just picking up where I left off in..wait, when did I blog last? Oops. Get busy livin', or get busy dyin', right? Right. Pardon the horrible formatting, by the way. I am looking into other blog client.

To begin, I started working at a non-profit organization called New York Needs You. I create and deliver career development curriculum for high-achieving first-generation college students. I've met some amazing, inspiring people, visited some cool places, and can't wait to see what adventures await. Here are some pics from the New Jersey Needs You benefit. The NYNY benefit is in April!

Then Ashley and Phillip turned 30 (30???!?!) and we celebrated for at least 7 consecutive days with their dear friends.

After that, Jason and I celebrated our anniversary with a trip to the last fishing town left in Connecticut: Stonington. I am finding beauty in seasonal differences. We went on a hike, ate delicious seafood, and visited an industrial winery.

Check out a few pics:

Sunset!

Our Bed and Breakfast - The Stonington Inn

Pink noses

When we returned to NY, a week later we celebrated Jason's birthday. This is celebration #1!

Jason's birthday cupcake

Jason's Bacon Brunch Birthday

For the Future

When we get married, this is happening. Check out this form thank you note I found on Reddit about a bread maker! My mom made me something like this for a twelfth birthday party. It was a great idea at the time, but my stubborn self wouldn't even check off the boxes and sign my name. I have since learned about manners, humor, and efficiency.

Okay, I have read this five times and it's still cracking me up. I think that means it's bedtime.

The Art of HibernEATing

I woke up at 1:00. PM! This is getting out of hand. I started to feel bad about it until I decided to celebrate it. Thanks, Silver Linings Playbook! (If you haven't seen this yet, please do. It could change your life in a small to moderately significant way.)

It appears I've discovered a hidden talent, which is fun to do in your thirties. Also, it is not that surprising I didn't know about said talent before because I've never faced a "real" winter. So, it turns out I am AMAZING at hibernating. Like, supercalifragilistic awesome.

The caveat, as my friend in wit Lauren Blondeau reminded me, is that there is not a whole lotta eating going on when animals hibernate. That is why I'm not exactly hibernating. I am hiberneating. It is a much better version of hibernating because you enter full sloth mode - here's some inspiration for the lifestyle. It's really pretty glorious and I recommend everyone to give it a whirl. It's amazing how quickly one can transition from productive, effective person to sloth. I am going to check Guiness on this but I might be a strong candidate for top five productive-to-panda people in the world.

I hope this attitude sticks for 2013 - identify something that is mildly disappointing about myself and then turn it upside down to a celebratory blog post.

I will leave you with some recent self-shots.

NY, Today You Are An 8!

When I first moved to Brooklyn, I had a series of terrible, horrible, no good days I would rate (at best) a 4. Since those dark August and September days, things have  s l o w l y  been getting better. Improvement at a snail's pace? I'll take it.

Today was a solid 8. AN 8! That is nothing short of a miracle - just ask my better half. If today's events unfold the way I hope they will, I suspect I may have days up in the ranks of the Women's US Olympic Gymnastic Team (sans the one with the scowl)! That's right. 15.066 days might be in my future! 15 out of 10? Anything is possible in the city that never sleeps or smiles at strangers.

Today...