And the sun came out today...

What started as a dark, drenched Wednesday has become a beautiful afternoon.

{ image via icanread }

Happy Hump!

Is that all there is?

Just because it's Friday, and it's my favorite episode...

"When it comes to relationships, maybe we're all in glass houses and shouldn't throw stones. Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than BUTTERFLIES..."

Five Senses Friday

(This will be a weekly repeat. Join me?)

hearing:
"Darling, we're everything..."


tasting:
Chilli's. I had a craving. We indulged it.

seeing:
progress in the moving effort!

feeling:
itchy eyes. I think I've developed allergies.

smelling:
Christmas trees! The lots are popping up, and we will go get ours this coming week!

He is real.

Kiddie City bags. Left by the basement door. Found on Christmas morning.
This is how I discovered the truth. You know, the Big One. The Big Truth about the Big Guy.

I can't say I was shocked. I had been poking holes in the Santa theory on my own, silently, as I wanted to keep up the facade for Jenna. But I always wanted to believe. Even though, deep down I knew that it couldn't be possible - somewhere deeper down...I felt the magic.

The magic of going to bed on Christmas Eve and feeling like something really special was about to happen. The magic of waking up with butterflies. The magic of creeping down the stairs and seeing that, somehow, all of exactly what you wished for is right under the tree.

At 28, I almost still want to believe in Santa. Waking up on Christmas morning is vastly different these last few years. I usually sleep on the couch in my Mom's apartment. We sleepily open gifts and then decide who is showering first so that we can make it to breakfast on time. (We never do.) I predict that this coming Christmas morning will be even more different, as I will be waking up at my new home, with H.

Seeing this post brought back some of that magic though. Just a different kind.

Be the Santa in you.

And this is why...

He watches Sex and the City with me, without complaint, whenever it's on. In an attempt to show his interest, he referred to Mr. Big as "Mr. Large". We both really laughed.

He makes me feel safe, taken care of.

We met at a John Mayer concert. Need I say more?

He is the most selfless person I know.

The way his face softens when he talks about his Mom.

He's seen Les Misérables 26 times. He introduced me to Rent and stopped it every 30 seconds to explain something, narrate or point out some quirky, unknown fact. And now I cannot stop listening to the Rent station on Pandora.

He will drop everything to help out anyone in need, at any given time.

He is insanely hard-working.

He still has the same smile that he did when he was little (I've seen pictures).

He knows things...random stuff, important stuff, stuff about money and cars, and credit, and bills. Stuff that I don't know.

I can't think about him without smiling.

Any problem or quandry I am faced with is automatically his issue. And he doesn't stop until it's resolved...from my totaled car to work stuff to finding the perfect Christmas gift for my Mom, he takes it on, figures it out and all while maintaining complete and utter calm.

His love for his family and friends.

We have fun no matter what we do.

When he laughs really hard, he slams his palm down on the surface in front of him. It's childlike and carefree.

He adds to this list every day and doesn't even know it.

{us at Tony's}

I love him. And this is why.

Thanks so much.

"One single grateful thought raised to heaven is the most perfect prayer. " ~ G. E. Lessing

My contribution to project :: thankful by Marta....

So many things to be thankful for this year (and every year)...

my health, waking up every day and feeling good, even when I am exhausted, still feeling physically well

having people around me who love me and support me and stand behind me in my decisions

reruns of Grey's on Lifetime

H, his selflessness, sincerity, and huge huge heart

the quiet car on the train

being able to check in with people I don't get to see too often on Facebook

new adventures and experiences

my college roommates and their little girls

Christmas traditions, new and old

my family, complete with dysfunction

a warm bed (with a heated matress!)

my friends, every single one of them

clarity

Happy Thanksgiving!

Five Senses Friday

(This will be a weekly repeat. Join me?)

hearing:

Well, I can tell you what I'm not hearing these days...my alarm!

tasting:

crab legs, for the first time!

seeing:

John Mayer, live at the Beacon Theatre in NYC!

feeling:

loved. a lot.

smelling:

a new car smell, compliments of my new Jeep Liberty. Her name is Lucky.

{hello, Lucky...I love you}

Five Senses Friday

Sometimes I steal ideas from other blogs...

(This will be a weekly repeat. Join me?)

hearing:

homemade burned CDs, including:
Lost Songs and Walk the Line - David Gray
19 - Adele
Turnstiles - Billy Joel
Trouble - Ray Lamontagne

tasting:
Penne a la Vodka and an after midnight Guinness

seeing:
Fa La La La Lifetime promos. If that isn't a sign of Christmas coming, I don't know what is.

feeling:
unusually warm evening air when getting off the train

smelling:
my new three-wick candle from Pier One

One Last Look...

"I dunno, she's got gaps, I got gaps, together we fill gaps."

This morning, I said goodbye to an old friend. A friend who has seen me through four years, two accidents, many many laughs, a hike up to Boston, about 40,000 miles, a few shore trips and a tire blowout on the 42 freeway (read about it here, if you fancy).

Justina named her Adrian last year, after she was rear-ended by a drunk driver and pushed into a Ford Focus, causing her to look like an accordion rendering her undriveable for oh, about seven months due to an unfortunate (lack of) insurance situation. She sat at a body shop in Darby just waiting for me to get enough money to go pick her up. And, when I finally had the money, she wasn't ready. Oh, the bad decisions I've made. I definitely do not have the best luck with cars.

Back to my silver/grey girl. Last Tuesday morning, I decided to stay home from work as I wasn't feeling too hot. I ran out at about 10 am to get some Tylenol Cold and Sinus (aka the wonder drug) and McDonald's breakfast. While heading down Burmont back to my little nest, Adrian and I were hit by a white panel van who was trying to cross over Burmont. While the driver did stop, he essentially didn't obey the Stop Sign Rules as he proceeded through the intersection without checking to make sure it was clear.

My first thought - "thank God I have insurance." What a difference a year makes.

I called 911 (that is a lie. I called my boyfriend, H, first as he is a 911 dispatcher and then he instructed me to call 911. He wasn't working at the time. I guess it was just a reflex. I knew that he would tell me what to do. And calm me down.) and the police came. The driver of the van was very apologetic and nice. We exchanged information and insurance policies. H showed up and called a tow truck to come get the car. We went down to the body shop and got me into a rental car in no time. A week later, she was declared a total loss by the insurance company.

A total loss - this sounds so negative and sad. It is actually the opposite. I am getting reimbursed for the value of Adrian, which is way over what I owe on my loan.

A fortunate misfortune. Props, Jack.

What November means to me...

Remembering the first full break from college...

Crispy brown leaves...

Chilly air...(and refusing to stop wearing flip flops)...

The smell of a chimney...

Early signs of Christmas (and I love it)...

Perhaps the most November-y thing of all is Thanksgiving of course...and nothing is more Thanksgiving-y to me than the Woody Allen flick Hannah and Her Sisters. Caught it last week on cable....divine.

"nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands..."

A taste of the theme song...

Where I'm From

Inspiration via Finn.

I am from paper plates and newspapers, from Turkey Hill Ice Cream and cans of Pepsi.
I am from the white, bright, always smells like a cigarette and perfume.
I am from the eucalyptus, the sun creeping through watery windows, the wreath on the door, all seasons.
I am from Christmas morning hotel breakfasts and wet eyes from Mom and Babe, and the Gormley's and the Bichetti's.
I am from loud, loud laughter and I am from addiction.
From catching a cold with a wet head of hair and catching a cold from wearing coats indoors.
I am from crucifixes over the doorways and Mass on all holidays and some Sundays.
I am from suburban Philadelphia and the 50/50 split between Italy and Ireland, from roasted garlic-y peppers and pizzelles and baked potatoes with A1 sauce and Chicken Divan.
From wiping crumbs from the kitchen table onto the floor and calling it clean.
From locking all the doors, and he slept on the deck.
I am from decorative boxes covered in pretty green ivy that matches the walls in the breakfast room and four thin, discolored albums and one big, white one with gold trim. I am from the frames lined up on the shelves on the porch. I am from the surviving items not destroyed by the flood. I am from everything not destroyed.

I am not crazy.

I am not.

I am not one of those wedding crazed girls. I have not been, a la Monica Geller, planning my wedding since my tween years. Or before.

See below - terrible quality, though.



Still, I cannot help but be addicted to sites like this and this and this. And don't even get me started on the adorable wedding of Joanna Goddard of A Cup Of Jo. She is posting wedding pics all week and I am following religiously.

Maybe it's because I am in love (!). More on this when I can perfectly capture everything I am feeling (good luck with that).

But I am not crazy.

(I hope he doesn't read this.)

"These are the days it never rains but it pours..."

**This is a post I wrote for a work blog. Call it recycling. It's Monday.**

Leave it to Queen to so perfectly pinpoint what a typical day might sometimes feel like, here on the 28th floor of 1818 Market.

And who doesn't love Queen?

It is more than safe to say that we operate under high, and sometimes extremely high, pressure circumstances here at Richardson. Collectively, we thrive on it and it is what keeps us on our toes. At lightening speeds, we move through the day, multi-tasking and following-up. And although sometimes we may leave in the evening feeling like we've just run though quicksand - exerting tons of energy but not really moving anywhere - great progress is made here. Every single day.

Pressure is not only a familiar feeling for us, but one that we should be aware of, as a company. Personally, I have been realizing lately that a lot of the pressure I feel is self-imposed. Deadlines, projects and clients are nothing compared to what is going on in my head most days. I wonder if I am alone in this category and, knowing most of the team for the better part of three years, I have a feeling I am in (good) company.

Imagine someone hands you an exceedingly heavy suitcase and asks you to carry it for them. It is huge, awkward and more than you alone can handle. Would you grab another one and pile that on top as well?

You'd set it down and make a dash for the nearest pal to help you out. You'd look eagerly for one of those handy airport carts and throw the suitcase in there. You'd find some creative way to balance out the weight.

I think of this analogy (shared with me by phone coach, Patti Clark) every single day and the e-mails appear in my inbox and the suitcases pile on. Instead of applying extra pressure on myself, I try to look for little tactics to better support myself and balance out the weight, both in the office and at home. Undoubtedly, these tactics will look different for each and every one of us.

For me, it's getting out in the Center City air for at least 15 minutes a day, at least eight hours of sleep a night and a light-hearted e-mail exchange with my college roomates.

And, of course, some Queen...

Exactly.

Beauty in the breakdown

Always, always laughing...

When I was younger, everytime I (or anyone) would ask my Mom how old she was, she'd say 29. She was 29 for all of my young life. Apparently, she thinks it's a good age.

Frankly, it scares me a little bit. But this isn't about me.

Yesterday, one of my bestest best girlfriends turned 29. Miss Kerry Dwyer. My favorite little Bostonian. A person who can make me laugh with, literally, just one word. Any word. Or even a letter, as she speaks in code and abbreviations quite often. Even just one of her little sounds will send me into stomach burning, tears streaming down my face hysterics. For a good fifteen minutes.

We talked briefly last night and tried to run through the usual life updates (family, boyfriends, work, girly stuff, etc.) and catch up on each other, all while hearing about her weekend and her birthday plans. We've gotten pretty good at cramming all of the goof stuff into a 15 or 20 minute phone call. Plus, we always have Facebook to keep tabs.

Apparently, 29 was a good year for my Mom, as she kept going back to it. After talking to Ker last night and hearing her smile through the phone, I am pretty sure 29 is going to be great for her too.

Happy birthday Kerry Elizabeth Dwyer! I cannot remember a time we were together when we weren't cracking up! (Case in point, the above picture. We may or may not have indulged in some mood enhancing...materials. Hey, it was college!)

Oh, Bob...

"You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She's not perfect - you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she's not there."

Bob Marley

Hey Blue, there is a song for you...

On Monday, as I left work early for the Reading Phillies game, I swear - I never saw the sky this blue.

Refreshing and beautiful.

Happy Weekend!

Check boxes.

New look - check.

Hoping to inspire - check.

Hoping for a shake up - check.

Oh, and I love this - check.