32 days... How Much is that Doggy in the Window...

Ok, so anyone who knows me at all, knows I LOVE doggies! But because of my usual schedule and where I live, it's not really a feasible thing. Doesn't stop me from checking out different shelters and what cute canines they have up for adoption.

This is Bean. She is an 8 year Shih Tzu who's deaf and was up for adoption at Animal Haven Shelter. She gave me serious pause for thought! But she was adopted by the end of the day Saturday. Yay for Bean!

Animal Haven is a fantastic shelter located on Centre Street at Broome. From their website: "Animal Haven is a nonprofit organization that finds homes for abandoned cats and dogs throughout the Tri-State area, and provides behavior intervention when needed to improve chances of adoption. Founded in 1967, we operate a limited admission shelter/adoption center in Manhattan and mobile adoption van. " They also have a volunteer program that requires just 2 hours a week! Once the show is open and I'm into a routine, I'm going to fill out the volunteer application which can be found here: Volunteer Page. Who's with me?!

Another great organization is The North Shore Animal League. Here is a description from their website: "North Shore Animal League America, headquartered in Port Washington, NY, is the largest no-kill animal rescue and adoption organization in the world. Since 1944, The Animal League's mission has been saving the lives of pets through adoption, rescue, spay/neuter and advocacy initiatives. Every year, the Animal League reaches across the country to rescue, nurture and adopt approximately 20,000 pets into happy and loving homes. To date, the Animal League has placed close to 1 million puppies, kittens, cats and dogs into carefully screened homes."

33 days... Have I Become a 'Jersey Girl'??

No, I haven't become a 'Jersey Girl'. Just been spending some time out in that little neighboring state! I went out to Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn, New Jersey to see my friend Rashidra in Hairspray.

Paper Mill Playhouse stage

little stream in back of the theatre

Saturday morning, I got my butt down to Penn Station, bought a ticket for NJ Transit to Millburn, and even had enough time to run to Dunkin' Donuts on 33rd and 7th for a coffee to take with me.

After a relatively quick train ride out to Millburn - just one stop past the super popular with Broadway people who've got kids Maplewood - so pretty out there! Gorgeous little town center, extremely easy to navigate and walk to the theatre. The theatre itself is so cute, such a quaint setting.

The show was a lot of fun, high energy, well performed. The audience absolutely loved it. Overheard in the audience: "This show is intense! I mean, physically intense!" Yes, ma'am, it is. That's why Rashidra's been using her inhaler! And also some kudos to my friend: "Those Dynamites are fantastic!" Yes, sir, they were a major highlight of the show.

I had a little dinner after the show with my absolutely pooped friend. But it was wonderful to see her, and to see her perform something other than Hair as well. Rashidra, you rock! Then I hopped on the train back to the city, with the bridge and tunnel crowd headed in for a night of debauchery! All in all, another wonderful Jersey experience.

34 days... A Special Tribute to My Gay Friends

I'm terrible with following the news, it's just so upsetting, but in this day and age it's next to impossible to live in media seclusion, certainly in New York City. I just have to say something about the heartbreaking stories that have come out about the teen suicides who were bullied because of their sexual orientation. If you haven't yet seen the video of Ellen DeGeneres, please watch it and please share it with others. She is absolutely right. An Important Message from Ellen DeGeneres

Inspired by Dan Savage's It Gets Better Project my friend Kevin Yee, who's out with the 2nd National tour of Wicked, made this video:

So I couldn't get the video to load for some reason, after 3 tries... here's a link instead:

It Gets Better: Wicked Cast Members

I want to take the opportunity to say to all my gay friends: Thank you for being here today. I know some of your stories from growing-up, but there's nothing like walking in someone else's shoes. I can't imagine my life without each of you and how you have touched my life. I am so lucky and so proud to call you friend. I love you guys!!!

35 days... Or something. Whatever. Can't sleep...

It's almost 3am and I couldn't really sleep last night either, got about 4 or 5 hours before waking up bout 7am. Which I don't do. I don't do morning and I definitely don't do morning wide awake without a shower and coffee. Weirdness.

I wonder what time I'll wake up tomorrow, er, today. I actually have just too much energy right now to sleep. Ok, here's the bizarreness going on inside me right now: I want to go outside and yell til I'm hoarse. I want to run on a beach until I can't breath and have a stitch in my side. I want to dance down the midtown city sidewalk. I don't care that I'd look like a crazy person. Maybe because I am.

I don't really know what this is or where it's come from. It's a little disconserting, like I'd imagine euphoria would feel. So free, but such a high you're bound to come down hard. I have no reason to feel euphoric really. No illegal substances imbided, or legal even for that matter. Nothing incredible has happened.

Just... I don't know. I have great, amazing friends. I'm starting a job next week. I love my apartment. Life actually isn't so bad. I'm not perfect, I've got inumerable flaws, but somehow.. Right now, in this second, I am happy. I am just... Me. And I'm happy about it.

Eh, just a little crazy 3am logorrhea.

Side note: new obssession is the movie "He's just not that into you". Why do I feel I could've been a major contributor to the script?? Well, the movie also has a killer soundtrack!! Corinne Bailey Rae, Maroon 5, The Black Crowes, The Ting Tings, Lily Allen and some 80s throwbacks, The Cure, the Human League, Talking Heads... And Scarlett Johansson singing Jeff Buckley's "Last Goodbye". I frickin LOVE that song. Enough to sing it at the top of my lungs while tooling around Ireland in my tiny little rental car. Ah, memories.

36 days... A Life in the Theatre

So, I don't often get to go see theatre since my schedule is usually the same as most shows, but my friend Janet who works at Mary Poppins was offered tickets to today's matinee of A Life in the Theatre and she asked me to go, and since I haven't started work yet, I could go!

It was absolutely fantastic!! I had no idea it was a Mamet play. It really surprised me considering how sentimental and fun it is. It's just Patrick Stewart and T.R. Knight, both of whom are incredible. A quick 90 minutes of a fastforwarded snapshot of, literally, a life in the theatre.

It just absolutely nails it on the head. Both hysterical and poignant in it's accuracy. Amazing. I can't say enough good things about it! I was laughing outloud and, embarassingly, even snorted a few times. I'm not sure if non-theatre people would enjoy it as thoroughly, but I would absolutely see it again!

My friend Moira is dressing Patrick Stewart and the sheer number of costume changes, and they're FULL changes, not just switch out a hat type changes has got to be like a marathon! As she puts it, from the top of the show 'til the end it's like being in a free fall, no stopping it. MAJOR applause to all the crew who are busting their butts backstage (and onstage too), I wish you could actually see all the changes and everything, then you'd get a true glimpse at backstage life instead of interpreted snapshots.

Now, if we could just get Mamet to call us 'dresser' instead of 'the woman', or hey!, how about using a proper name?! Consider that, ok, Davy?

So, if you can, go see A Life in the Theatre at the Schoenfeld Theatre on West 45th Street until January 2nd!!!

37 days and a Cinnamony Mistake

Ok, so I'm not really sure how this came up, but I am apparently a girl who can't say no to a dare. Sounds like a great start to a really bad story, right?

Well, did you know it is impossible to swallow a whole tablespoon of cinnamon in one shot? It is. I had the cinnamon coming out of my nose to prove it. Not good. Somehow I was sort of challenged to try this, and I thought 'Really? How hard could it be?'

Went to the grocery store, bought the cinnamon, measured it into a tablespoon, even over-poured and evened it off with a knife - just to be precise - and after a few moments of thought wondering just how to swallow the whopping tablespoon of cinnamon, just went for it.

First few seconds, thought ok, not so bad. Until it started to get stuck. Eyes watering, trying to swallow. Not good, and it just went downhill from there! Cinnamon is not tasty going down by itself, and it's way worse coming back up. And even more revolting coming out of your nose.

So, lesson learned: don't try to eat a tablespoon of cinnamon. No matter how easy it sounds.

38 days... Pancakes and Puccini

As excited as I am to start work, having been unemployed for 3 months is much too long for me, I might be just the littlest bit sad I will miss Sundays such as this one. It's a cloudy Sunday, not too warm but not too cold either, just right actually with the windows open and a hint of breeze ruffling the curtains.

I felt like making pancakes for breakfast, and luckily had some pancake mix in the cupboard. So I had a leisurely late breakfast of pancakes and coffee. Someone in my building across the courtyard was listening to an opera program on the radio, Italian arias.

So for about an hour I enjoyed my pancakes with a little Puccini. He played Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma from 'Turandot'. It was spectacular. It also happens to be one of my favorite arias. It's just so incredibly moving, the way it builds and the resolve of strength in his voice. I used to get chills hearing it sung live the season we did it at Santa Fe Opera, and I still get a little shiver listening to it now.

I'd forgotten how much I like some opera. It also made me think of friends I worked with in Santa Fe that I've somewhat lost touch with. So thank you neighbor for playing that radio program loud enough I could hear it wafting across the courtyard and making me reminisce about summers gone by. I'm having lunch this week with my old roommate and good friend from Santa Fe Opera, Chelsea.

Speaking of which... I've missed birthdays recently. Sooo, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Ginny, Clarion, Gina, Chelsea and all you Virgos and Libras!!!

44, 43, 42, 41, 40, 39 days Down the Shore

Alright, so I'm kind of crap at this daily thing. But I'm going to work on it, I swear! So the past week I was down the Jersey Shore at a friend's family beach house. Monday I had a job interview for 'The Merchant of Venice', and thankfully, I got the job! Woohoo! That night, I met my friend Sue at Penn Station and took the train to Point Pleasant.

Her family has had a beach house in Lavallette since the 70's I think and it was fantastic! 3 blocks from the beach and it reminded me so much of both my grandparents' homes, it felt like walking into a memory. The vinyl table cloth, the linens with the summer quilts, the old little table lamps and just the feeling of a loved home that had been lived in for a long time.

We hit the beach everyday, didn't really go in the water though because the waves were huge! I was kind of hoping to get some open water ocean swimming in, but the water just didn't seem safe enough.

It was amazing to just laze on the beach for the better part of the day, go back to the house, shower and have an equally relaxing evening. We walked into town and went to the early bird dinner at the Crab's Claw. I'd brought my little DVD player with me, so we watched movies.

Sue was very brave and rode her niece's bike into the neighboring town to go to the grocery store and get taco fixings the next night. She cooked a delicious dinner and I ended up getting sucked into 'Without a Trace' on TV, so we didn't make it to the boardwalk like we'd planned. It was kind of a good thing,  we were so stuffed from our taco dinner I don't think I would've made the walk to the boardwalk!

I had forgotten just how relaxing time at the beach can be. Listening to the waves roll in and crash and lull you into a state of utter calm. And the light wind of the water cooling your skin from the hot rays of the sun. There's really nothing quite like it! And the Jersey Shore has an absolutely beautiful beach. Soft, clean sand and so well maintained. Granted I was down there after the season, and there were still other people on the beach, but in a way it felt like I was part of a special club of people who come to the beach off-season... I suppose they're mostly locals.

The last night I was down there, we walked over to Seaside Heights which is a few towns over and where the boardwalk is. It's also where that awful MTV reality show was filmed. We walked along the boardwalk which was practically dead, majority of shops closed up for mid-week or for the season. We ate at a hopping bar and grill that I think the whole town was in, then headed back to the boardwalk.

I was determined to win something! So we went into an arcade and the first thing I saw was a photo booth, which of course we had to do. Then we headed over to play skeeball. I thought I was kind of crappy at it, but turns out I actually kind of rock at it! I kept hitting the 10,000 point corner, it was awesome.

I did get sucked into trying to win an iPod from the stupid claw machine - damn things are rigged! I couldn't even win the lame sparkly plush black Halloween kitty. Had to go back and win some more tickets from skeeball to be able to actually get anything with the tickets!

Our friend Ginny LOVES skeeball, and I figured she was returning from her honeymoon in Italy this week and it was just her birthday so got her a little birthstone ring with my tickets! That was kind of the best they had to offer. The fake little flies, chinese finger trap, bag of marbles and plastic toys just didn't quite tempt me. And I didn't have nearly enough tickets for the cute plush animals, the Coach sunglasses or the Red Sox pint glass they had.

We walked back along the boardwalk and in a moment of youth and insanity, I did a cartwheel along the boardwalk. Thankfully, I don't think anyone was around to see my flip flop go flying, except for Sue of course. Glad I can at least amuse my friends! The next day Sue's parents came down, and her mom was nice enough to give me a ride to the train station. I didn't remember it being such a long commute, but it felt like forever getting back to Manhattan! But well, well worth it. Jersey Shore, I'm coming back to see you!

48, 47, 46, 45 days and counting...

So obviously, I slacked off for some days. It's been an interesting and busy few days; when it rains it pours.

Something I've been thinking about lately is what a disposable society we are. I know, that's a blanket statement that doesn't apply to everyone, but I am certainly a culprit. I love disposable tissues. I always keep one of those little packets on me, you just never know when you can use one.

There are all kinds of disposable products, items that are meant for a single or few uses and then intended to be disposed of. Can you imagine going back to cloth nappies? Ew. Granted I don't have a baby, so it wouldn't effect my life the way it would someone who's currently using disposable diapers on their baby.

Even clothes and shoes have become disposable items. Made and sold cheaply, worn for a year at most and then discarded. It's not worth taking the time to mend a garment that cost $20 and could be replaced in less time than it would take to repair it. Even shoes can be less expensive to replace than to take to a cobbler and have resoled, patched or repaired.

The worst of all though, it seems even fellow humans have become disposable quantities. And I don't even mean the atrocities that occur amongst humans, I just mean between average people. Granted I have a huge negative bias towards on-line dating, but it is the worst offender as it is set up for those who think of their fellow humans as disposable!

It seems next to impossible to avoid the person who flips through profiles and dismisses potential dates (not even mates) on a whim. Put those same people in a room, face-to-face and the outcome would be vastly different. I simply don't understand the idea of people in your life as 'ok, but just for now'.

People are not disposable! Relationships, of ALL kinds, take work. This isn't news. But it feels people are less involved with each other these days. Do they just not care? Or do they see everyone as replaceable? Disposable...

50, no 49 days... Cat in the Looking Glass

So you know I've been obsessed with the movie "Bridget Jones's Diary" lately. Well, perhaps it's because I  AM the character of Bridget Jones. It's a disturbingly accurate portrait of a single 30-something woman, particularly this one. Perhaps it's just ever so slightly dated, but wow do I still identify with her!

Ok, so it's not exactly like looking in the mirror. Cut out the smoking and hopefully cut back on the alcohol drinking, and ok, so I'm not having sex with the likes of Hugh Grant or Colin Firth either... but the rest is right on the money!

Bridget Jones is a woman who:

• is slightly dissatisfied with her job and life
• has wonderful, supportive friends
• makes questionable decisions with men
• is trying to improve on herself and life
• can't cook for shit
• constantly thinks she needs to lose 20 lbs
• is a warm, flawed, caring, real woman

Here are some favorite lines from the movie, some resonate and others just make me laugh:

"You'll never get a boyfriend if you look like you've wandered out of Auschwitz." 

"Maybe this was the mysterious Mr. Right I'd been waiting my whole life to meet." ... "Maybe not."

"I suddenly realized that unless something changed soon I was going to live a life where my major relationship was with a bottle of wine and I'd finally die, fat and alone and be found three weeks later, half-eaten by wild dogs."

"This can't be just shagging. A mini-break means true love."

"At times like this continuing with one's life seems impossible and eating the entire contents of one's fridge seems inevitable. I have two choices: to give up and accept permanent state of spinsterhood and eventual eating by dogs... or not."

"...if staying here means working within 10 yards of you, frankly I'd rather have a job wiping Saddam Hussein's ass."

"...better dash. I've got another party to go to. It's single people. Mainly poofs. Bye."

"Definitely an occasion for genuinely tiny knickers!"

"'Wait a minute, nice boys don't kiss like that.' 'Oh yes they fucking do.'"

I also adore this movie's soundtrack! Just some classic, fantastic songs. My favorite just might be Out of Reach by Gabrielle. This song absolutely resonates with me! It's on the track list for the soundtrack of my life. Definitely have sung along at top volume driving in the car, oh yeah, it's one of those good songs. Don't you just love those?

51 days... Meant for Yesterday, Obsessed to Distraction

Holy poo! Where did the time go?! I was just dallying around the apartment and all of a sudden it's after midnight! So, this post was really meant for yesterday (Monday, 13 September). Oh well... I'm still getting used to this blogging thing...

So, in case you don't know me well, I'm neurotic. Not severely neurotic, well maybe under stress it comes out more, but either way, there it is. Or perhaps it's just because I'm a scorpio, but one of my less appealing traits is obsessiveness.

Today, I find myself to be obsessed to distraction. This is probably why I'm finding myself writing this post at 12:30 in the morning. I wasn't even particularly obsessed with a solitary thing today. Mostly with an abundance of wayward thoughts, which I really don't need to get into.

I often find myself getting obsessed with a movie or a song and watching/listening to it repeatedly, over and over and over. Today's 2 obsessions in those categories were the song Reason Why by Rachael Yamagata off the soundtrack for "The Last Kiss" [Thank you Matty! Still one of my favorite albums!] and the movie "Bridget Jones's Diary".

I won't even count the number of times I've played both in a single day. Hmm. Let's see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps it will be counting stairs, since my elevator is out for the next few days. Whoo! Bring on 9 flights!

52 days... A Tribute to French Toast

A slow start to this Sunday began with the momentous move from bed to lounging on the couch, sipping at a cup of coffee. A slight drizzle and the occasional breeze through the park trees were the morning's soundtrack through the open window. I could smell someone cooking - truly incredible since I have a terrible to non-existent sense of smell - and it smelled decadently delicious.

My unrefined and broken sniffer couldn't place just what was being made for breakfast, but french toast came to mind. I had a short-lived internal struggle... will I be satisfied with some toast and jam? Do I want to venture outside to buy the needed eggs and milk to make my craving? Do I really need to shower if I'm just going to the store a few blocks away?

So after throwing my Red Sox cap on and some sneakers, 20 minutes later found me making french toast in my disaster of a kitchen. Attempting to be frugal, I didn't buy bread, just figured I'd use the last of the wheat bread I already had. I did splurge on maple syrup though. I couldn't resist the amber stuff that was made in New Hampshire, especially after reading 'high fructose corn syrup' as the first ingredient in Aunt Jemima's.

making french toast

I'm a pretty inexperienced and admittedly awful cook, but I figured I could handle french toast. I remembered my cousin Danny used to make it for me and his sister Jaime when we were kids. Mine turned out not too shabby. Although next time I'll spring for some nice thick bread, maybe even go for challah.

After my tummy was full of french toast, I got curious about the stuff. Ever wondered why it's called french toast? Well, here's what I could find out:
It's not really French. Shocker. Like french fries. But according to the all-knowing wikipedia, "french toast" can be found in print in the US as early as 1871. And the Oxford English Dictionary cites usages of "french toast" in English as early as 1660.

The origins of the recipe are unknown, although a version appears in the 4th century Roman cookbook Apicius. This recipe was also known as Pan Dulcis. French toast is found in what seems like every country and culture, granted with different variations and names.

The French call it pain perdu, or literally "lost bread", since it is a way of using stale - or "lost"- bread. In the United Kingdom it is called 'eggy bread' or 'gypsy toast'. In Germany, Norway, Denmark and Russia it is called 'poor knights'.

Some variations to the simple recipe of soaking bread in an egg and milk mixture, then frying include substituting milk with wine or port, serving it cold, and serving it not as a sweet dish, but as salty. In Hungary it is served with onions and tomatoes, mayonnaise or ketchup. There is also stuffed french toast. Commonly in North America you can find fruits or something sweet sandwiched between the bread, then dipped in egg mixture and pan-fried. French toast can also be baked.

In my quest for knowledge about french toast, I also found a quick and whimsical solution:

http://www.worldwidefred.com/frenchtoast.htm

A little Tour Eiffel with your breakfast toast, oh pardonez-moi... your French toast!

And to wax philosophical for moment, I'd like to paraphrase from this really interesting artist's website,  http://www.frenchtoastgirl.com/:

"The basic philosophy of the french toast girl is this: life (like french toast) is made up of simple ingredients that combine to make up a marvelous concoction we often take for granted. It's time to relish all the wonderful flavors in your life. And by the way, if you aren't crazy about the way your life tastes, remember: you're the one who controls how much sweetness goes on top, or if it's soggy and underdone. So savor the simplicity and the magic that is french toast. ... I also just really like french toast" ...Amen sister!

53 days... Dream Analysis, it means WHAT??

I don't often remember my dreams, and if I do they're usually nightmares. I had a peculiar one last night, simply because as Inception points out you rarely remember the beginning of a dream, and I felt like I remembered the beginning of this one.

I was walking down the street, late at night, my hoodie pulled up over my head. I'm feeling comfortable, happy, satisfied even. [perhaps leaving work?] I see on the corner a small group of darkly dressed young men, it makes me uncomfortable. I'm not too concerned though, just more aware, because on this corner is the entrance to the parking garage where my car is parked. The parking attendant already has my car pulled up near the entrance, he is familiar to me and we exchange a smile, I feel a moment of safety. This is shattered when, just as I'm about to close the car door, a hand slams down on the roof of the car and a menacing, not quite human, almost ghoulish face looms before me, laughing at me with crazy eyes. And I wake up.

I wasn't actually scared when I woke up. I was more disappointed that a pleasant feeling had been warped so quickly and completely. Later in the day I tried a little art therapy by painting the scene from my nightmare. Of course, there's a huge element of interpretation to art therapy I'm lacking. But it did feel good to realize something that had been vaguely haunting my mind. Granted there was definitely a layer of frustration because I had difficulty translating to paper what was so vivid in emotion in my mind.

In the interest of trying to figure out what the hell it all means and without the fancy psychology degree, I turned to the internet and found an interesting website: www.dreammoods.com. 

So, bit by bit and dream symbol search by search, this is what I discovered:

• To dream that you are in a garage, signifies a period of inactivity and idleness in your life. You feel that you are lacking direction or guidance in achieving your goals.
• To see a hood in your dream, signifies that you are hiding and cowering from a person or situation.
• To dream that you are driving a car, denotes your ambition, your drive and your ability to navigate from one stage of your life to another.
• To dream that you have been carjacked, suggests that you have lost your direction in life. You feel that circumstances in your life has lead you on a different course.
• To dream that you are being attacked by someone, indicates your character is being questioned. You feel the need to defend yourself. You are feeling stressed, vulnerable and helpless. You may also be faced with difficult changes in your waking life.
• To hear evil, demonic laughing in your dream, represents feelings of humiliation and/or helplessness. You feel that someone is working against you.

So my interpretation of it all is: I am unemployed and somewhat avoiding the full impact of that reality. I'm feeling dissatisfied with life at the moment, and am wondering if this lull in work is a sign to change occupations, to find something with more fulfillment. And on a self-pitying note, feeling inadequate because I'm the only one of my friends without a job.

Hm. All stuff I already knew. Maybe I could skip the weird, disturbing nightmare next time. Thanks subconscious. Love, Cat

54 days... Art for Inspiration, Not for Free

After a quick and crappy swim, an unsuccessful search for a new swimsuit (but got new goggles I'm excited to try!) and a stop into Home Depot for some paint samples, I headed up to MoMA thinking I would seek out that Dali painting with the melted timepieces and see if I could garner some artistic inspiration from the vast collection of modern art, or at least be mildly confused and amused by it.

Friday evenings from 4-8pm are free entry, normally admission is $20, so I figured perfect timing! Oh. My. God. Don't bother even venturing near 53rd and 6th, the frickin' museum was packed! I felt like I was an unwitting participant as a cow in some bizarre art installation entitled "The Human Herd". I gave up the notion of aimlessly wandering almost immediately, and since I had a pretty good idea of where I was going, I made a beeline for the 5th floor. 

Fellow cows gaze at The Persistence of Time.

So you know how tourists in New York are notorious for stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to check their map, change direction or just gawk at something? Each gallery was exactly like that, but on speed! It's ART people - have some respect and take the time to appreciate it! I was absolutely amazed by the volumes of people who would snake their way hurriedly up to a painting, take a picture and then zig zag on to the next well-known piece.

I was so disheartened by the whole experience, and came to the conclusion that inspiration was not going to be found during the cattle drive through the museum. I did get to study the Dali painting, The Persistence of Time. It struck me as simply poignant in a melancholy way and oddly familiar in an uncomfortable way. The gallery label for the painting had a quote from the artist himself that described his work perfectly: "hand painted dream photographs". 

Klimt's Hope, II. and more cow gazing.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a painting by Gustav Klimt, who I've been drawn to ever since seeing his most well-known work The Kiss at the Belvedere in Vienna. Hope, II is just as gorgeous with the use of central focus, color and geometric shape and, of course, the gold leafing but as opposed to the aggressive sensuality of The Kiss, this painting has a melancholy tenderness to it. 

Perhaps it was just my mood, or perhaps it's MoMA's curator, but I find many of the works in the collection evoke some level of melancholy, or distress, even torment. Note to self: not exactly the place to go to brighten your mood!

55 days... Contemplation on Spaghetti, with a side of Marathon

I love spaghetti and meatballs. It has always been a favorite of mine, especially my mom's. We're not an Italian family by any means... Irish, Scottish, English and German mostly, not exactly the lineage of the world's best cooks. But there's just something about my mom's spaghetti and meatballs.

I'm sure it has nothing to do with the sauce out of the jar and frozen meatballs from the freezer section, and everything to do with it being made by mom - a comfort in itself. I mean, why else would I request it after spending a school semester in Italy (second only to the real Thanksgiving dinner I'd missed abroad)? So I took a page out of my mom's cookbook today and made spaghetti and meatballs. Wasn't quite as good as mom's, but it definitely hit the spot.

I'm not sure what makes a 'comfort food', some psychologist has probably written his or her (probably her) dissertation on it. From a less scientific perspective, I suppose it's simple - whatever food brings you comfort. Because it's what we were given as children to soothe (flat ginger ale when I was sick), or perhaps it's an association thing? A food that's associated with a comforting time or memory (who doesn't love that scene from Lady and the Tramp)?

I have an amazing cache of spaghetti related happy memories. Memories that are fondly looked back on because of the simplicity or joyousness of that moment in time or because spaghetti was involved? Oh please! Spaghetti was merely an enhancement to an already good memory. So, thanks spaghetti and meatballs!

Ok, here goes a terrible segue... So, marathon runners eat spaghetti before the big race, right? Oh! Speaking of marathons...

My friend Eric is running the Chicago Marathon with his brothers on October 10th. It's his first marathon, and since I find myself at loose ends, I'm going out to cheer them on! I'm so super excited for Eric. He's on tour with Mary Poppins right now and has impressively still found time to train for this. He is an inspiration and a wonderful friend. I can't wait to be a part of his amazing experience. GO ERIC!!

56 days until Launch Day (I'll have mayo, not mustard on mine.)

It's almost 2 months until my 31st birthday and the 'official' start of this project. 365 posts, 1 per day, throughout my 31st year. About what? About life in all it's awful, wonderful, terrifying, perfect moments. Whatever this year may bring, I'll share it with you, hopefully accompanied by a picture of the day too.

I've come to realize as I come to the end of 30, just how flippin' fast time goes! When does that internal clock all of a sudden start to fly? Why do I feel like college graduation wasn't so far away and moving to New York still feels new, when in reality they were 7 and 5 years ago respectively. Ok, yes... for the more mature [read 'older', I'm being polite] reader anything less than 10 years IS practically yesterday. But I'm feeling like Alice who's fallen down the rabbit hole and time is merely an elusive, and confusing, study of a Dali painting.

You've heard that Emerson quote before: Life is a journey, not a destination. Well, here comes the journey! For the next 56 days, I'm going to try to get into a rhythm with this blogging thing - stick with me! - and see where we end up (just a pit stop, not a final destination). I'm inviting you to live vicariously through the movie of my life... while I live it, you can sit back with your popcorn and experience the roller coaster from the other side of the screen.

Welcome aboard, no height requirements to ride this ride.