I'm a little abrasive and am sometimes known as '80 Grit.' So I love sparkles and fluffy things that make me cry (seriously), and all that girly stuff, especially vintage, but I also like loud music, not showering regularly, and tattoos. After all, I am pretty bad ass. I live with CTA, an old cat, and the infamous Naughty Naughty Bacon in the photographer's old house on Commonwealth. I love to make pretty things and reading beat-nik books. I like wedding planning even though that probably jinxes my shot at one. If I wasn't so lazy, I'd get a lot more accomplished, but right now, I'm ok with that.
I'm at work. I could be leaving work in 44 minutes. 43. But I'm not. I made poor choices at work. Choices that involve me and the rest of the staff to remain here. Open. til 5. Dealing with crazy people that risked life and limb to get themselves out of the house. Boss lady even said we could leave, but I said no. I don't know why. I had a big fat momentary lapse in judgement. I will be here. Instead of driving to Long Island for New Year's Eve party with super cute boots (thanks mom!). Super cute boots that are probably sitting under the pile of snow that just fell in Connecticut. NEWSFLASH: Carl just brought me Five Guys and I feel much better. But it does ruin my 'not-going-to-eat-lunch-because-I-suck-at-life' self prescribed punishment for making everyone stay.
I wake up to Will, otherwise known as 'Doodle.' My brother's six year old God-son stayed with us because Mom and Dad had extra early shifts. As I silence my alarm, I hear leaf blowers that turn out to be snow blowers. I get up to see a blanket of thick white stuff and enormous flakes falling.
Will, on his way to the bathroom in amazing dinosaur pjs, I say "Hi."
"Hi" I get back.
"Have you looked outside?" I say.
"Ya. It's light out."
"No, look" I open my curtain.
I get dressed for work and shovel the driveway with my brother.
I make breakfast as the teacher, on her snow day, sits and watches cartoons with Will, also on his snow day.
As I put on my jacket to head out, I get a call from the carpenter from my work.
"Don't kill yourself to get in."
"This morning is a great day to make me cookies though."
And it was.
Can't beat coconut chocolate chip with way too much butter.
Last night I headed to Friday Tastings at Hooker Brewery in Bloomfield. It was EPIC. $10 gets you in the door of the actual brewery with all the delicious craft beer you can drink, free Cabot cheese, and a pint glass when you leave. A special brew of people drink good beer, thus, a great crowd of hippies, suits, and everything in between. Sipping Blonde Ale and nibbling on Horseradish cheddar amongst 15 foot tall holding tanks is an amazing feeling. Needless to say, I've found my new favorite Friday night spot. It also doesn't hurt that I happen to know a co-owner who let us test out a new batch!
So I've been told that my bliggity blog has been lacking content lately, thus the refusal for a certain person to 'follow' me, even though he reads every post. So here goes: there's nothing like forcing words.
Gearing up for the holidays this year is interesting; its an unfamiliar and semi-uncomfortable feeling. I've slowly moved the boxes of Christmas items from my parents house to the white house at the top of Stanley Street and quietly stored then in the once spacious attic. I almost don't want to unpack them though. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I would gear up all year for it. I would force it on Tiny Tims and Scrooges alike. I would purchase a perfectly manicured 10 foot tree, that I would have sold my soul for, the day after Thanksgiving by any means necessary. I would hang hundreds of lights throughout my apartment while my cats watched me from their perches. I would brave hives as the result of Blue Spruce needle pricks after adorning said tree with hundreds of ornaments. I would preset my radio stations and dig out the Christmas CDs. I would watch all the holiday TV movies and then watch my DVDs of them again. It was my time. It felt amazing.
This year is different though. I turn on the radio in the car and sing along to Bing and Ms. Cole and something is different. I still know all the words and it brings a smile to my face, but the pure joy just isn't there. Instead there is an emptiness. I have amazing friends and family, with amazing traditions that I ironically always institute, but I had created traditions and memeories with someone for so long, and now I have no one to celebrate those with. Even typing it seems silly. I am incredibly lucky and have a whole life ahead of me, but I can't help but feel that this holiday will be tainted. I have to learn how to fill those spaces with new memories and new traditions and new love for friends, old and new, and to make myself happy again. So here's to learning about what Christmas is all about...all over again.
And here's some etsy love, because that was just depressing.
Here's my newest contribution to The Benevolent Postcard Society. It was sent to Australia on the 2nd...because the 1st was a Sunday! No luck on the return yet...and word to the wise: Don't over analyze it!
As a kid, we didn't have cable TV. We burned wood for heat. My house was 300 years old. I did not think this was cool, especially during my teenage years. My friends would tease, "Do you use candles for heat and light?" However, Sunday I went to my parents house to make apple cider. Press apples into cider, the old fashioned way. And it was great and the best apple cider to date.
It doesn't hurt that some of it will turn into Apple Champagne in a few months, but let's keep that on the down low because I don't really want to share....So much for shunning the Amish.
So yesterday morning, I woke up and started texting my bestie from bed on my day off. Flash backing to the days of minimal classes at the local community college of my freshman year, we decided to dash over to our favorite breakfast spot, Cosmic Omelet. She had to be at work in 2 hours and I was miraculously up early enough and only with the gym in my near future. With a big 'screw you' to the notion of a shower, I invited my brother, who declined due to work obligations (lame), and headed out. Sitting in the parking lot, I heard a loud thump on my passenger window that was Kel throwing herself into said window. We headed in to the familiar 'Sit where ever you'd like!' and slid into a booth. Our usual waitress came over a took our drink orders and we made our food orders with no need to look at the menu. Always the same: Tracy's omelet with jalapenos and white toast, Kel with rye. Just before your waitress headed back to the kitchen, she turned and said "Good to see you guys." It was amazing. We hadn't been there in over a year. We are just that memorable. Well I am. Kel is by association. Here's to good friends, bangin' breakfasts, and being legendary. Happy weekend!
This time every year, I start getting magazines with centerpiece ideas and mouth watering recipes...that will never happen. I always have grand visions of golden turkeys and berry-dotted stuffing, pies of something other than pumpkin, and vegetab
les different from green beans. These items never happen though. When it comes down to it, its about the family and the friends that are at the table. Fancy place cards are not needed because everyone gets along.
Conversations range at the pseudo-kid's table and the seasoned veteran's from hedgehogs ruining the yard to making five gallons of eggnog for the up coming Christmas party. The food is just as delicious as the year before, even though its the same. Its the tradition that is comforting and the repetition that only comes once a year that is warm and inviting. Its the fact that every year, my best friend comes to eat her third dinner of the day with us and I can always throw an olive clear across the table directly into her mouth during Grace and no one is none the wiser. Its the fact that this year will be my first Thanksgiving in a very long time being single, and I know that it will be OK because I will be in the presence of great company.
This year is also the first year, as an adult, that my household will be holding Thanksgiving. I'm oddly excited and nervous. My entire life I've watched and helped prepare the feast, even helping Nick grind the innards for my mom's famous stuffing. This year I'll be helping Nate and Crystal (and maybe even Dave) in that white house at the top of Stanley Street. Because I've managed to become the resident chef, I having a sneaking suspicion that I will be put in charge of cooking, with Crystal in charge of cleaning, and Nate is charge of pecan pies. However, I'm satisfied with that, because after all, when all is said and done, I will be surrounded by my friends and family, and the food will be delicious, and when I am stuffed to the brim, I can climb into my comfy bed at the top of the stairs in the white house at the top of Stanley Street.