I have been tagged by pretty stellar gal, Amanda- and today happens to be her birthday! And since I know she has seen Cinderella recently (just ask her daughter Briar) I will wish her a happy birthday, Gus-style "Hu, hu Huppy Birfday" :)
And now without further ado, 10 reasons why I think I am swell, or something like that.....
I love:
1. my hands. They are smart and strong and have always been the instrument of my greatest strengths; Building things, making art, and discovering subtleties in material and form; Holding children; Setting (as in volleyball); being able to use them successfully with my eyes closed- braiding my hair, unknotting things- I have a secret hope that someday in a hero-like situation, my hands will be the method for hostage escape in a pitch black room or, the cause for courageous freeings of bound persons cast overboard in dark, eel infested waters.
2. my hair. I have touched on this before, but I'll recap; it is my glory, my defining characteristic. I love how it falls in long, loose curls to the middle of my back- no rollers required, and how it captures sunlight in a dark room, and emits a soft glow around my face. I love how no hair is the same color, each a different shade of strawberry blond, shiny copper, or warm red. I love that it is so long, I have to bring it around to the front of my body to finish braiding it. And I love how it went from something I use to hate because it made me different, to something I love because it makes me different.
3. my heart. It is big, and so often overflowing, I swear people around me can soak up its surplus of happiness.
4. my peacemaker impulse.
5. my ability to see details others often miss. The way sunlight enters water, the beautiful shapes in a pool of spilled wine, the changing shadows on the side of a mountain as the wind pushes clouds past.
6. my ability to have faith in people, despite having been burned in the past. The alternative, expecting people to fail you, has never seemed an option for me. I know this will result in being let down and hurt from time to time, but I would rather be hurt once in a while, than live in a perpetual state of expected disappointment.
7. that kids and I just get along. Without pretense.
8. my narrow hips and cute butt. A good combo for wide leg pants.
9. my laugh. I use it often, and put my heart in it.
10. my smiling eyes. They disappear when I laugh really hard, and I can hardly see the people in front of me. They have made the first lines on my face and they are the lines of a person blessed in joy and laughter, and I am ok with that.
and to keep this self-love ball rolling, I'll now tag; my sister Corrie (who is sadly sans blog) because though she feels the need to be constantly improving herself (which is A ok), there are some pretty great things about her already; and a new comment-giver on my blog, susiej, because she left me such a nice one and I'd like to know her better; my mom (also sans blog), because she inspires me; and a random blogger I found with a great blog name, The Good Kind of Dorky, who lives just an hour from where I went to college, and grew up in central NY- the coincidences were too many to miss this opportunity for a new (albeit random) blogging friend. Happy blogging!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Dancing in the Streets
Sometimes it is easy to wallow. A common wallow-worthy situation for me: no one to do anything with.This is a particularly frustrating affair because I like doing things. Accustomed as I was to being in a college setting, where friends are abundant and there are countless ways to pass the time, (most of which can be turned into a drinking game that I never learned) I have struggled to find people outside of that environment. But something I have striven to improve over this last year, is my willingness to go outside my comfort zone and find new experiences. Thus on Saturday, close to entering a wallowing state, I forced myself out of my apartment, into a day that called for rain, and ended in nothing but sunshine, and joined the world of the living.
Book and journal in hand, I landed myself at a coffee shop overlooking Broadway Ave. bustling with Hats Off Saratoga excitement. I sipped ice coffee and thoroughly enjoyed my own company as I watched Track-goers, shoppers, and families. From my pen, words escaped more effortlessly than they had of late, my observations fell easily onto the page, felt and understood. And when I could no longer resist the draw of the latest Harry Potter, I opened my book and read ravinously of the 17 year old hero.
After a few hours of time well spent, hunger nipped at my heels and pushed my feet homeward, but not before an involuntary smile found my lips at the sight of people dancing in the street to Irish music. Mothers spinning with 7 year old daughters, fathers stacked high with toddlers that adorned their shoulders, young and pierced punk couples moving in ways I doubt the Irish ever planned. I looked around at the gathered crowd and my smile grew. They too were smiling, their lips curving up at the corners in a way that betrayed the joy and amusement bubbling in their hearts. This group of people could not help but be impacted by the merriment in the air, and whether they were aware of it or not, they smiled.
Book and journal in hand, I landed myself at a coffee shop overlooking Broadway Ave. bustling with Hats Off Saratoga excitement. I sipped ice coffee and thoroughly enjoyed my own company as I watched Track-goers, shoppers, and families. From my pen, words escaped more effortlessly than they had of late, my observations fell easily onto the page, felt and understood. And when I could no longer resist the draw of the latest Harry Potter, I opened my book and read ravinously of the 17 year old hero.
After a few hours of time well spent, hunger nipped at my heels and pushed my feet homeward, but not before an involuntary smile found my lips at the sight of people dancing in the street to Irish music. Mothers spinning with 7 year old daughters, fathers stacked high with toddlers that adorned their shoulders, young and pierced punk couples moving in ways I doubt the Irish ever planned. I looked around at the gathered crowd and my smile grew. They too were smiling, their lips curving up at the corners in a way that betrayed the joy and amusement bubbling in their hearts. This group of people could not help but be impacted by the merriment in the air, and whether they were aware of it or not, they smiled.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Dilapidation
I took pictures of this house the other day on my way home from work. I drive past it twice everyday, and slow down each time. That is how beautiful it is, covered in vines with shingles hanging precariously from the roof's edge, paint chipping from every surface, and windows shut to the world. It is a house of poems, of time passing, of beauty and sadness in one. And these pictures hardly do it justice, but I couldn't not take them. This house needed saving, even if only in image and memory, before it was swallowed by time, and covered in growth and change.
Friday, July 13, 2007
My many celebrations
So these past few weeks have been something of a celebration whirlwind. Hence my lack of posts. To further complicate matters, I am unfortunately limited to quiet moments at work for blogging as I do not have internet at my apartment (yet). However, I have found a few moments along the way to compose this entry which I hope will satiate the blog appetites of even my most curious "Trina Blog" readers (hehe, all three of you :) ) who I am sure were left on tenterhooks, awaiting news of party success or failure. So now, without further ado... let the celebration begin!
Now, where did I leave off? Oh, right. It was party time. The air was primed for a house warming party to top all house warming parties. The ovens (ok, make that one mini-oven, two if you count the toaster "oven") had been firing for days, the food was prepared, the slicing and dicing of fruits, vegetables and various other savory delicacies, finished. All that was left were the manic, last minute preparations of a party about to start. But nearing the end of this frantic time, the time before guests have arrived, when fresh, summer flowers have been placed in vases around the room, and small, white napkins lay in neat stacks next to plates of cheese, and bowls of strawberries, this time may very well be one of my favorites. The work has been done. The preparations made. Everything waits in eager anticipation of animation; waits for the first guests to arrive and place cheese on crackers and ice in tall, clear glasses; waits for the hum of conversation, and the music that will flow out opened windows into quiet night time streets; waits for photo flashes and memorable moments. In this waiting time, my spirit is high, but no longer crazed. A calm takes over the air. I generally fill this time with self preparation, changing from my flour-covered shirt and washing off a day's worth of make up that the hot stove melted from my face. I trade them instead, for a "host with the most" outfit and a fresh application of mascara, blush and perfume. I pull my hair off my face, and in each ear lobe place a bangle or a teardrop jewel. And then I descend, preferably down stairs, and join in the waiting.
For this particular party, my self preparation was cut short, as the first guest arrived; one of my very best friends from college, and my roommate of two years, Laura. Having her there for this momentous event was truly icing on the cake.
And despite her early arrival, I did in fact manage to get the rest of my make up on before any more guests arrived.
The evenings festivities got started with a lovely mellow vibe. My boss and his wife arrived and I lead the way on a 10 cent tour of my new, and almost completely set up digs. The only thing missing was some various wall art and fish in the fish tank. And they were the perfect candidates for first viewings as they had kindly put up wth my comments over the past month about refinishing tables, cutting box frames in half, and running electricity to various places throughout the house, and could therefore appreciate my efforts.
As the night continued, and the crowd shifted from the more sophisticated to ... ummm... perhaps those slightly...ummm... less sophisticated, the party got rockin. We cranked the tunes, and some competitive games of driveway flip-cup commenced. Both my sisters were in attendance (which was awesome) and there were some great bonding moments including a sister flip cup victory over the manly men of 119 Caroline. All in all, it ended up being a night of great fun. The food was mostly consumed, the house, in a reasonable state of party aftermath, needed a good clean up but nothing too drastic, and fortunately for me, I awoke the next morning mostly without a hangover. The morning was spent putting things back in order and enjoying several cups of coffee conversation before packing up and hopping in the car to spend four glorious days in Boston with best friends circa the college years.
Since I have not put up a post in some time, I will save tales and pictures of Boston for a later post. For now, please enjoy the following pictures of "The House Warming Party" :)
Now, where did I leave off? Oh, right. It was party time. The air was primed for a house warming party to top all house warming parties. The ovens (ok, make that one mini-oven, two if you count the toaster "oven") had been firing for days, the food was prepared, the slicing and dicing of fruits, vegetables and various other savory delicacies, finished. All that was left were the manic, last minute preparations of a party about to start. But nearing the end of this frantic time, the time before guests have arrived, when fresh, summer flowers have been placed in vases around the room, and small, white napkins lay in neat stacks next to plates of cheese, and bowls of strawberries, this time may very well be one of my favorites. The work has been done. The preparations made. Everything waits in eager anticipation of animation; waits for the first guests to arrive and place cheese on crackers and ice in tall, clear glasses; waits for the hum of conversation, and the music that will flow out opened windows into quiet night time streets; waits for photo flashes and memorable moments. In this waiting time, my spirit is high, but no longer crazed. A calm takes over the air. I generally fill this time with self preparation, changing from my flour-covered shirt and washing off a day's worth of make up that the hot stove melted from my face. I trade them instead, for a "host with the most" outfit and a fresh application of mascara, blush and perfume. I pull my hair off my face, and in each ear lobe place a bangle or a teardrop jewel. And then I descend, preferably down stairs, and join in the waiting.
For this particular party, my self preparation was cut short, as the first guest arrived; one of my very best friends from college, and my roommate of two years, Laura. Having her there for this momentous event was truly icing on the cake.
And despite her early arrival, I did in fact manage to get the rest of my make up on before any more guests arrived.
The evenings festivities got started with a lovely mellow vibe. My boss and his wife arrived and I lead the way on a 10 cent tour of my new, and almost completely set up digs. The only thing missing was some various wall art and fish in the fish tank. And they were the perfect candidates for first viewings as they had kindly put up wth my comments over the past month about refinishing tables, cutting box frames in half, and running electricity to various places throughout the house, and could therefore appreciate my efforts.
As the night continued, and the crowd shifted from the more sophisticated to ... ummm... perhaps those slightly...ummm... less sophisticated, the party got rockin. We cranked the tunes, and some competitive games of driveway flip-cup commenced. Both my sisters were in attendance (which was awesome) and there were some great bonding moments including a sister flip cup victory over the manly men of 119 Caroline. All in all, it ended up being a night of great fun. The food was mostly consumed, the house, in a reasonable state of party aftermath, needed a good clean up but nothing too drastic, and fortunately for me, I awoke the next morning mostly without a hangover. The morning was spent putting things back in order and enjoying several cups of coffee conversation before packing up and hopping in the car to spend four glorious days in Boston with best friends circa the college years.
Since I have not put up a post in some time, I will save tales and pictures of Boston for a later post. For now, please enjoy the following pictures of "The House Warming Party" :)
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