31 August, 2009


Reading my friend's blog tonight sparked my interest in the Six Word Memior. Only six words; it's pretty fascinating. A lot can be said in just those six words - life stories, moments of despair, celebrations of a certain time - some are funny, some are sad. And then of course comes the hard part: what would my six words be?

Like being at home the most.

Non-profit heart; for-profit world.

Cooking for someone makes me happy.

Love - surprise! - and baby makes three.

Without my friends, a boring life.

Never on time, but always smiling.

I could always eat a pickle.

Constantly cracking myself up; good times.

25 August, 2009


"'Don't be surprised if you find yourself preoccupied with your own thoughts -- sometimes to the exclusion of just about everything else' says page 97 in the chapter called The Lights are on and Somebody's Home in The Expectant Father: Facts, Tips, and Advice for Dads-to-Be.

Yes, for those who don't know, there has been a blessing bestowed upon me and my family in the form of (a 99.9%-positive) baby girl, now many weeks into her life inside my best friend and partner who travelled with me at warp speed until we were light years ahead of the life we knew previously."

Excerpt from SURPRISE - read more here.

23 August, 2009


I've been told that a strange phenomenon happens when you're pregnant - you start having weird and vivid dreams. I assumed that meant that they'd all be about the baby or about something related to the baby... but not true. They're just weird.

The other night I had one that was on a boat - me and a bunch of other people that I've known over the years (high school people I haven't thought about in ages, work people, family) and for some reason we had to dock the boat in the middle of the ocean because the waters were getting too rough (see, it already makes little sense!) and there was one girl I work with who was in the water and refused to accept my help in getting her into the boat.

Last night, I dreamt that my partner and I were suckered into a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. An older woman who we loved and appreciated (could never really tell who she was in the dream) asked us to be in it - and reluctantly we agreed. Then we found out that we had to travel 2 hours each way to get to rehearsals, in Pennsylvania, and back to New York. And then for some reason we had to take a plane to rehearsals - one of those small, scary ones where you can feel every propellar movement - and the theatre was on an island (in the middle of land-locked PA). And while I hated every moment of it - the travel, the time commitment, the director, the other cast members - my partner loved it all and seemed to be having the time of his life.

Weird dreams.

19 August, 2009


One of the things that always lingers for me at the end of a vacation is the unpacking... my suitcase usually sits on the floor of my room - getting in my way, reminding me of what's left to do, holding all my favorite clothes hostage - for about a week until I finally take the time to put it all away. Tonight was unpacking night. And now that things are put in their place and suitcases are hidden away out of sight, I'm relaxing into the simple pleasure of being home again.

16 August, 2009


I'd venture to guess that almost everyone who reads this blog already knows about my baby news... and for those that don't: I'm gonna be a mama. A mother. Mom. Mommy. This is news I've lived with for several weeks now - and this morning at church, I finally had my first insecurities about whether or not I will be a good mother.

Now, I have wanted to be a mother ever since I can remember. My childhood was spent bossing around my younger siblings (sorry guys!), my teen years were filled with a calendar of babysitting dates in-between rehearsals and theatre interests, summer jobs in college included being a preschool teacher, and for the first 2 years living in New York I had the privilege of being a nanny. Whenever supervisors would ask what my 5 year plan was, it hardly ever focused on career or money or where I wanted to be... but ALWAYS included starting a family and becoming a mom.

And when I found out that my 5 year plan was coming sooner than expected (!) I was nothing but quite sure that I'd be a wonderful mother. When talking it over with my loving partner, when telling my family the news, when reading the birthing books, when going to the OB appointments, when laughing with my friends, when discussing it at work... at all times I was ever-confident in (ever-excited about) my mothering capabilities.

This morning in church, however, I had a moment of blurred vision (literally, as my eyes brimmed with tears). I had a sudden doubt about whether I'd be able to raise my child - and raise him/her well - in the ways of faith. The many worries I had in that hour of church deserve a blog post of their own... whew!

15 August, 2009


I know I've mentioned the incredible imagination-turned-amazing-hour-of-entertainment that is THE WEST WING. Thanks to the added bonus of living with someone who has the whole series, I've been slowly working my way through the 155 episodes (which is SO much better than summer TV reruns, especially when you've opted not to have cable and only go with the basic 13 or so channels).

Recently I watched the season 2 finale - "Two Cathedrals" - and it struck a particular chord in my heart and I cried for about the last 20 minutes of the episode. Cried. Sat on the couch, didn't hold anything back, and let the tears fall and fall. It was about loss and difficult decisions and dealing with challenging things even when you know you're the one who has to go through them and shying away from your hard responsibilities wouldn't make anything any easier.

And faith. Faith that can seem strong - in yourself, in someone else, in God - and then be shaken down to it's mere foundation... and then the discovery of whether that faith is strong enough, even broken down to its barest bones and mere dust, to hold up what you believe.

Who knew TV could make you feel like that?!

14 August, 2009


Why is it that at the beginning of EVERY vacation, I always feel like "Ahh... it's only Monday - there's so much lovely relaxing and reading and eating and walking and enjoyable vacation time to come," and then at the end of the week I'm always surprised that it's suddenly the last day and almost time to get back to the reality of life?

I make a conscious effort to really enjoy every moment and to not take the days for granted and to slowly indulge in the blessing of having no plans, no agenda... and yet it STILL always creeps up on me faster than I'm ready for, that sneaky last day.


12 August, 2009


From a mother to her son:
"I don't know how you got to be so amazing. I really don't!"

11 August, 2009


I suppose I've always seen the sad looking live lobsters packed in the small grocery store tank - blue bands on their claws, all piled on top of one another, just waiting for someone to pick them out for their culinary fate... and they're brown, nothing really stands out about their color.

And I suppose I've also seen the healthy looking, vibrantly red lobster on a plate (mostly in commercials or print ads) appearing to be appetizing and delicious and enjoyable.

But I've never seemed to put the two together... until recently, having experienced my first lobster dinner.

The water in the giant pot almost already boiling over, the brownish lobster alive and sometimes kickin' - or at least squirming a bit - dunked in head first (which kills them almost instantly), the truly amazing and almost instantaneous color change to sunburnt red... the steaming shell when they're removed and piled high on a serving platter, the smell of not-quite-ocean and not-quite-not-ocean, the eyes void of life but still appearing in all other form (like the crab before you eat it) like the animal you don't want to accidently step on when you're waist deep in the sea... the utensil that's similar to a nutcracker placed next to your fork and knife, the dish of warm melted butter in front of you, the anticipation... and then learning how to break off the claws, and then watching as someone teaches you to crack them open, and then tentitavely taking your first bite (thoroughly drenched in that delicious melted butter because you assume that will make almost anything taste better)... and then being plesantly surpised by the sweetness of the meat in the claws, and the toughness of the tail meat, and knowing that although you may not "crave" lobster again anytime soon, you'd definitely eat it if it was offered.

And the one lingering question that I don't know if I'll ever get an answer to: who WAS that first brave soul that said to himself, "I wonder if this spiny, hard-shelled creature with giant pinching claws is edible? Let's find out..."

10 August, 2009


Many people over the past few years have told me how wonderful Vermont is... friends, co-workers, even one person on the subway who overheard me talking to someone about taking a trip up there and felt the need to input his two cents about the lovely VT weather.

I'm spending the week up here with what is fast becoming my second family. First: Vermont is wonderful - rolling, lush green hills; a glistening lake; a view of the sunrise that almost made me cry the first morning I caught a sleepy glimpse. And second: the company is wonderful - a mix of family members that have done nothing but welcome me with arms wider than I could've hoped for.

There's the "matriarch" of the family who does all the tremendously delicious cooking (I'll post my reactions to my first taste of lobster soon). There's her daughter & son-in-law, a sweet couple whom I'll look forward to getting to know better and better; and their two young daughters - only a few years apart and wildly different in their fiercely independent personalities. There are my partner's parents, whom I already adore completely - but am feeling more comfortable around every day. And my beau, with whom I am in engaged in heated nightly card games... nothing but friendly competition and endearing teasing, of course.

After a week of a combination of relaxing and playing together under one roof (oh - complete with 3 dogs, 2 fish, and 1 hamster) I'm sure to feel the full wonder of being taken into the folds of another family.

07 August, 2009


It is difficult to describe the first time you celebrate the day that the person you love dearly, entirely, without measure was born.

The words "happy birthday" become a bland string of letters that mean nothing even remotely close to the feelings you are struggling to convey.

There is a quote from the book EAT PRAY LOVE (Elizabeth Gilbert) that more closely recognizes the sureness I have for this man and the blessings we're receiving as we venture into this wilderness of life together; I offer it up here - on this day he was born - as a suggestion that there is always a greater plan... and that if you surrender to that greater plan, that higher thought, you will not be disappointed.

"God long ago drew a circle in the sand around the spot where you are standing right now. You were never not coming here. This was never not going to happen."

I am so proud to be standing with you in that circle.

05 August, 2009


When you catch a glimpse of a person you love through the eyes of someone else, it can be a strange experience. It can make you angry at them for misjudging that person. It can make you sad. It can make you jealous for no good reason. It can make you feel bad, guilty. It can confuse you as you try to work your way through the sticky mess that seems to be their mind.

And it can make you more deeply aware of things you already love about that person. And it can make you feel reassured that you know that person's true heart. And it can make you want to defend that person's honor and dignity and growth. And it can make you remember that you have a delicate and rare gift - a person you love, who will not be taken for granted.

04 August, 2009


What a wonderful reaction it is when someone stops in their tracks - in the middle of a bustling New York City sidewalk - to shriek with joy and give you a hug. Pure excitement. What an awesome feeling. Just thinking about it makes me grin :)

03 August, 2009


Among the many other post-it reminders of things to do, this one's important.

02 August, 2009


I sit here this morning on my couch, stretched out comfortably with my feet up and my laptop softly soothing me with a little light and a little Dar Williams...

I can't see the rain, but I know it's raining. I hear it dancing quickly off the air-conditioner - an uneven and familiar pattern of drips and drops. I see it playfully swatting at the trees outside, leaves moving like a player piano. And with a small crack in the window, I can smell it - that wonderful smell - wafting in on the slight breeze.

Sometimes I love the rain.

01 August, 2009


How did it get to be August 1st already? After a whirlwind July complete with a trip to Maryland over the 4th, a move to a new apartment, opening my first musical at work, an extended-but-still-too-short weekend visit to Ohio, becoming a car owner for the first time, a weekend painting an old apartment, lots of lunches and dinners with old friends and new, and much unpacking... I'm finally ready (craving it really) for things to settle down into a wonderful routine of comfortable normalcy - with more writing!