The Final Countdown: 10h 15m

For those of you who have read my blog in the past, who are my friends (near and far) I want to personally wish you all Happy Endings and New Beginnings; thank you to all of you who have been a part of a year that didn't suck! Whatever you find yourselves doing this New Year's Eve, do it with a smile and excitement for the new adventures ahead. 


I don't own a Mayan calendar (and don't plan on being done with this trip in a year) but just in case this next turn around the sun I'm working on my plans to: Make achievable goals and celebrate the little successes along the way, fall in love with something new every day, enjoy delicious food, make each day feel like a birthday and tell my friends they are ridiculously smart, talented, funny and important each time I realize it; stay close with my family and tell them I love them every time we talk, take more pictures, sing out loud even if I don't know the lyrics, wear lipstick, attempt to learn a language, go to the art museum and take a trip somewhere I haven't been. IT'S GOING TO BE A YEAR TO REMEMBER....I hope so many of you are a part of it! Cheers to you and yours, be safe, be happy and be excited!

Well, that sure sucked ass

TWO posts for the entire year of 2011?  That must change.  That will change.

Hang on, I'll make it four posts....

What do Michael Jackson, the Hubble Space Telescope and my happy mouth have in common?

You're trying to come up with something dirty, aren't you?  Well, it's not, so stop trying.  The correct answer is the year 1988. 

Regan was president, the Hubble Space Telescope was put into operation, Sony Bono was elected mayor or Palm Springs, CA, and the US experienced a severe drought.  Bettlejuice, Rain Man, and Die Hard were in the theatres and it only cost $3.50 to see them.  Average rent was $420.  A gallon of gas would cost you a dollar, stamps were 24 cents and a winemaker was putting a cork in a bottle of wine.  

If I could pull a 'Back to the Future' move and get a message to my 12 year old self in 1988 that on the evening of June 10, 2011 I would have the pleasure of sitting down to a home cooked authentic Italian meal in Chicago (where the 35 year old me now resides) with totally amazing friends and enjoy a bottle of 1988 Chianti opened special for the occasion, my 12 year old self probably would have said something like, "So?" with a doubtful, crinkled forehead expression.  

But it happened.  And it was amazing.  Take that, 12 year old self!

I caught myself wondering, was it the wine itself or the total package of good friends and a family recipe shared around a dinner table full of stories that made me smile and laugh and forget about everything but the moment?  Was it because we were all sharing the experience of the wine that made it taste better?  Did the deliciousness of the wine flavour our conversations in ways ordinary wine couldn't?  

I've poured extravagant wine, wine that could be classified as an orgasm for your mouth, with no special celebration nor company even to toast with and enjoyed it just fine, but felt unfulfilled.  I realize now it is because I am a firm believer that you can have the best experiences, but if you have them alone it's almost like they didn't happen.

Here, consider this....if you were given the opportunity to eat at a three-star Michelin ranked restaurant but had to do it alone, with no dining companion, or be invited to a pot-luck dinner on paper plates in the overgrown backyard with the best of your friends, which would you choose?  Both are great and to some that would be a tough choice; without pause I know my choice.

Life can be really challenging, frustrating, boring or exhilarating, your call.  Moving through this concrete jungle of mine with my best friends experiencing these events with me reminds me not to just go through the motions.  Have something to say about it!  Experience it with every one of the five senses!  No matter if  you choose three-star restarants or "not-squirrel" themed parties.    

 

Left Lane Closed Ahead - Merge

All good things need fixin' every now and again, including MJ Pen Test. Now, don't you fret...nothing but the design and the frequency in which I post is changing.

Well, that and the hopes that you, my readers, grow in numbers (but more about that little nugget later!)

For now, I'm working to get the layout spifted up and maybe when I'm through we'll have a little re-opening party or something.

I'll bake a cake.

Vacation? You betcha.

I should really be packing. I should really be cleaning. Or making monsters, or cleaning up after other furry monsters. Because tomorrow I am going on vacation.

Vacation to Michigan - which isn't the first destination on my list, but I'll take it. I'll go anywhere anyone tells me as long as my sister is included in the destination.

I get to see my sister.

It's been almost a year and a half since I laid eyes on her. We've probably had 11 real conversations on the phone and a couple three dozen texted ones. It's been so long I forget how long her hair is, how loud and infectious her laugh can be. How meticulous she is with preparing salad and how she's much, much happier after coffee in the morning. With all the things I find myself forgetting, I'm never easy to forget how much I love her and miss her.

I can't wait for 15 hours to go by so I can get a little sister hug.

Paulina Supper Club #1: Pork Chops

I have this weird reaction where after eating my brain literally shuts down once the digestion process starts; It's like I'm being plugged into my charger and getting my batteries renewed. I can't make conversation, I'm more distracted than normal and I just need to stare at something while things breakdown.

The boys and I (I should start referring to them as the youngsters) have devised this new adventure called the Paulina Supper Club. Basically, it's a Monday night dinner at the homestead but with all of us contributing. We have such different schedules but for all the right reasons our Mondays are free and sitting outside this Summer our plan was hatched.

For the inaugural dinner we made pork chops with sort of an apple chutney/compote and apple cider gravy and (boxed) stuffing. Mini pumpkin pies with cream cheese honey frosting.

Matt doesn't cook and Doug likes to watch cooking shows. It's one part creative, one part teaching and one part execution on the fly. I love it.

Next week: Pulled pork sandwiches with homemade slaw and some deliciousness on the side that I have not determined

State Farm's got nothing on this neighbor

Let's add "good neighbor" to my life resume, shall we?

Oh, you want to know what constitutes a good neighbor? Well alright. How about we start with having to live below the "doin' it crew." This is a term, coined by the Prah's who also have this issue, which refers to two people engaged in sexual activity at a decibel loud enough to be heard by the neighbors. Living under a "doin' it crew" means you just get to experience the whole thing a little more intensely. But since this activity is normal in nature, I don't hold this against them or slip notes under their door to politely (or not so politely) request that their love maybe not be expressed at 3am on a Tuesday. See? Good Neighbor.

Or cleaning the lint out of the dryer after I take my clothes out so that it is ready to go for the next person. Interesting that I also must do this BEFORE I put my clothes in. Who do you think removes the lint, neighbors? The Lint Fairy?

The building has a janitor who comes by weekly and picks up, changes light bulbs, etc... but does it really take all that much effort to get your junk mail into the waste paper basket that they provide? I've walked into my vestibule some nights and wondered if the postman didn't throw himself a ticker tape parade in it. And on a separate note to all the restaurants hiring people to walk around and rubber band their menus to doorknobs and gate handles.....really this is a terrible waste of resources. They don't make it into the apartments, just end up littering the floor or the sidewalk until someone gets sick of looking at them and throws them away. There's this thing called the Internet, you should really re-allocate your efforts online. I promise you, even if you drop off a menu, if I can't order online, I'll choose one of the other nine Thai places I can. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the free rubber bands.

Then there's the recently new efforts of picking up bottle caps, cigarette butts, match books, Cheetos and the occasional Miller Lite can on Sunday mornings. This I don't mind as it's nice to have neighbors that know my name and whom I enjoy their company. Since one in particular is a recent college graduate, the transition from the college living to post college living (aka the "jobby job life") isn't totally mastered yet; he's in the adjustment period and things look like they are settling (mah baby's growing up!). Until early this morning.

I made the very adult decision to turn in for the night (it was well before 11 o'clock....on a Saturday!) because I was basically asleep on the couch -- though the one side of me would argue I was just resting my eyes -- and so I tried making it seem to my other half that we were going to utilize Sunday morning and accomplish a great many things before the rest of the city even scrambled their eggs. And by "scramble their eggs" I actually mean breakfast. Except for the upstairs neighbors which then I mean, REALLY LOUD SUNDAY MORNING WAKE-UP SEX.

I fell right to sleep and so when there was a very loud knocking on the kitchen door I was totally disoriented, freaked out and a little pissed off. And when it didn't stop I figured it was either:
a) morning

b) an emergency

c) a really stupid criminal

d) one of my neighbors home from the bar and not ready to go to bed

If you answered 'D' you would be half correct. If you answered 'B' you would be more correct.

The young neighbor was very adamantly asking me to open the door and I assured him (through the bedroom window which faces the same side as the back stoop) that I heard him and was working on it. Unbeknownst to him, I was trying to untangle the sheets, find my glasses and put on acceptable amounts of cl----I've started to sleep less involved, so I was trying to find my pants.

When I finally got to the door he was standing there bare chested with a tee shirt wrapped around his wrist and the palm of his hand bloody. He had had an altercation with a glass bottle and needed me.........not to dress his wound, or drive him to the hospital.....the words he used were, "I need you to cut this flap of skin for me."

Wait, what did you just say? I surely must still be asleep or there must be sleep still in my ears because I swear I heard you say you needed me to REMOVE A FLAP OF SKIN?! Oh, that is what you said? Are you F'ING CRAZY?! But as this past year has taught me many things, I am capable of a lot more than I thought. I do actually keep a level head, as long as it's not MY blood.

I'll save you the details but after arguing the pros of going to urgent care, I acquiesced and (ahem...) "dressed the wound." Since I am a worrier and a planner at my core, I made him promise to sit on the stoop with me for fifteen minutes so I could see if it was done bleeding. The last thing I wanted to add to my Sunday morning clean-up was a pool of congealed blood. Don't worry mom friends, I also made him promise me that we would re-evaluate it in the morning.

While I didn't get to start the Sunday morning the way I had promised my other half, I think the thrill of it satisfied her. It's good to be needed.