Feisty

It’s amazing how much difference the weather makes. Last week people were getting seriously testy on the T. I saw a couple of angry exchanges that wouldn’t have happened in October and probably won’t happen now, just because everyone is a little happier that the sun is out.

I camped out on the porch this weekend while Lunchboy played with his new Xbox. Not that Gears of War isn’t cool, but I just couldn’t be inside any longer. We opened the windows and the cats sat behind the screen, sniffing the air as if they’d never smelled spring before. Scully rolled around in the garden and took her first dirt nap of the season. I have to get out there and rake so my hosta can actually surface. Maybe tomorrow.

We also found a couch this weekend, at long last. Perhaps the universe took pity on us after we muscled through a long lunch with my family sans alcohol, but finally the couch shopping is *finished*. The new set arrives Friday, which means only 3 more days of old couch-induced back pain. I am probably more excited about the couch than I should be—god knows I’ve talked my friends’ ears off about it—so now everyone can be glad that there will be no more talk of furniture shopping, at least not for a while. We’re having a sump pump and a new French drain installed in the basement next month and it’s going to be a long time before we’ll be opening the wallet again. Hopefully it will also be a long time, as in NEVER, that we’ll have to deal with flooding.

The sun and the couch—these things are cool. This, however, is not. At all. It’s shitty that something like this could happen anywhere today, but that it happened in Boston is somehow more offensive, more embarrassing. The most perplexing thing about it is that I don’t remember anything from Mike’s show that would offend a bunch of Christian activists. Not that what happened would be ok even if the show had controversial material of some sort but still. Why?

Naptime

This is really the smartest idea of the year. We need several of these in Boston, especially now that the city is in full Ray Bradbury mode.

Let's hope those May flowers are really freaking gorgeous

I'm not a coffee drinker and Lunchboy is a Starbucks latte fiend. Nevertheless, we have a coffee maker on a shelf in the kitchen that only sees action when his mother comes to visit. Today, however, the coffee pot came in very handy for bailing water out of the pseudo French drain in our basement. This drain has caused some problems in the past, and we've been talking to basement people to come and install a real drain that will keep our basement dry on days like this. Unfortunately, the work hasn't been done yet and now there's groundwater welling up in the drain, which means I have to bail using the coffee pot or attempt to hook up our complicated sump pump system, which involves duct tape and multiple hoses going out the basement window. I'm not afraid of doing it but it's really a two-person job and I'm just hoping it can wait until Lunchboy gets home tomorrow.

The cats think the whole thing is fascinating, though. They hover curiously while I bail and follow me when I empty the bucket in the bathroom. I bet it wouldn't be as interesting if their paws were getting wet.

Tales of joy and woe

On Friday night we went to see Mike Daisey perform his new monologue, Invincible Summer, at the ART. At Colby, Mike was one of those rare performers whose talent mesmerized, and everyone knew he was destined to go on to greater things of a scope far exceeding the realm of college theater. So I was completely unsurprised when Invincible Summer proved to be stellar. Not many performers can create emotional, compelling stories while sitting at a table, flipping pages, but Mike's words grab you and don't let go.

After the show, we met up with Mike and his lovely, warm, dramaturg wife Jean-Michele and went out for pho. They told more stories over dinner. His show is full of extremely personal details and having just been privy to bits on his parent's divorce, his marriage, and his deeply personal response to being in the middle of the shit on September 11th, I had the odd sensation of feeling like I knew him really well and yet not at all. It was good to see them.

Mike's performing in Cambridge through the first week of May. You should go--the show is really good.

Grabbing hands grab all they can

Turns out that if you're in the market for a new couch, as we are, the worst possible time to visit Jordan's Furniture is on a weekend--particularly the last weekend of their brilliant little "you get your furniture free if the Red Sox win the World Series" marketing ploy. It was, as they say, a madhouse. In the 2.5 hours we spent at the Reading store, two things of note occurred. First, we saw Elliot, of Barry and Elliot, floating around the store, which was kind of cool. All the salespeople were genuflecting before him. He looks and sounds just like he does in the TV commercials, and it's really weird to feel that frisson of pseudo-celebrity recognition over someone who is mostly known for his cheesy furniture commercials. Maybe it's his scads of money? I don't know.

Second, we were so ready to be done with couch shopping and to get the hell out of that store that we found and bought a couch (in a much-debated red), only to get home and realize that we had just bought a red couch for our yellow living room and what the hell were we thinking. So we called and cancelled the order, fighting the grumpiness that came from the knowledge that we now have to continue shopping for a couch. But at least it won't be at that store, in those crazy-making crowds.

PMS

All I've wanted all day were fish tacos from La Salsa and Snickers frozen yogurt from Big Chill.

Fromage

I'm not sure how this got by me, but April is National Grilled Cheese Month. A whole month--dedicated to the eating of grilled cheese sandwiches. Could anything be more wonderful?

A friend's fiance likes to have a birthday week--not just a day, a full week. Given this new knowledge, I think I'll take that precedent one step further and celebrate a birthday month by eating as many grilled cheese sandwiches as possible. In an ideal world, we could go to all these places, but I think I'm up for the challenge of finding good grilled cheese here in Boston. Picco has one that always rolls my eyes back into my head.

It's a mystery

I have never understood why people come to work when they're sick. Not just suffering from a cold, because that's pretty much a permanent condition in Boston and we should all just have IVs full of Sudafed implanted in our arms from November to May, but hardcore, high fever, messy bathroom sick. And yet people do this--they insist on working when they really should be in bed (or at least in their own bathroom, where their germs are less likely to migrate). Work is very important. This I know. But it's just work. And it's both unfair and unproductive to show up just for the face time, so your boss can see that you've heroically dragged yourself out of bed. Because what ends up happening is that you infect everyone in your office, which is why I'm home with the stomach flu today. And yes, I am bitter.

Crunch

So I am officially done with headstand, at least for now. I messed up my neck in practice two weeks ago and no matter how much attention I pay to my alignment in headstand, it just hurts. Last night I held headstand for the full 20 breaths and I woke up at 4am with a pounding headache and an aching neck.

That said, I’m finally starting to learn how to vinyasa out of supta konasana, though I’m still falling on my face half the time.

The kid in me is dying for this.

Completely random

There’s an ongoing argument in our house over who should be considered the comedic actor of our generation: Ben Stiller or Will Ferrell. I’m for Will, not because his movies are always stellar but because he’s of this time. I mean, the man has played Bill Clinton and Buddy the Elf—come on. Ben Stiller grates on my nerves and he seems to always play the same character, but Lunchboy says the roles he’s played are definitive in our generation.

I was just on a work trip to DC for a few days and was amazed at how the rest of the country actually gets to experience spring. It was sunny, 67, and all the trees were starting to bloom. MeanG and I caught up for yummies at KramerBooks and there was *no need* for a jacket. Go figure. Now I’m home and it’s still freaking chilly. I know DC is unpleasant in the summer but sometimes travelling makes me wonder why the hell we stay in Boston, period.

For a long time I ignored 30 Rock because I somehow associated it with Studio 360 (a 3? A 0? Silly me). Then we tried it. I heart that show. I want Tina Fey’s wardrobe on that show. Also, loving Andy Barker, PI. Anything with one of the alums from Arrested Development is promising, and I swear that Andy Barker’s wife is Buster’s sister. Look at their faces—they must bear the same DNA. It’s striking—and wicked funny.

Things I am currently addicted to:
--Etsy
--The Real Estalker
--Apartment Therapy

Things I just don’t care about, no matter how much everyone else seems to love them:
--Sarah Silverman
--pointy shoes
--Matsuzaka

Makes me feel like dancing

The deadly thing about killing time in malls is that it's really easy to buy stuff. Even when you're trying not to shop. Last night I met a friend for dinner at Bambara and got there 40 minutes early, so I wandered over to the Galleria. Somehow I ended up getting these on super super sale and they make my feet so happy. Whenever I wear red shoes I think of Meang, who always has the coolest shoes ever.

Can go both ways

Name changing is in the air, I guess. Kottke posted this article about new trends in taking your significant other's last name. Having both bride and groom take both last names and hyphenate them is kind of cool. I know a couple who did a variation of this--the groom took the bride's last name and kept his name as a middle name, and vice versa with the bride. Except the two names together sounded like a sexually transmitted disease, so they both ended up taking the groom's last name.

What would Luke do?

This is really cool. Lunchboy argues that it’s a good reason to put off writing thank you notes because using these would be a perfect touch. I completely agree but, sadly, they don’t come out until the end of May and three months feels like a very long time to delay sending thank you notes. Yes, I am anal and yes, I am a dork (if the fact that we took both class lectures and thank you notes on our honeymoon wasn’t already a big clue), but when I was little my mom wouldn’t let me play with new toys or gifts until I wrote a thank you note and it’s hard to de-program habits like that.

Vernal equinox

Life is good right now. There seems to be good news coming from every direction: engagements, pregnancies, new babies, new spouses, new jobs, blind luck, expensive car repairs covered by warranties. It’s wonderful to have so much to celebrate!!

Expanding the...mind

During a section on Shakespeare in one of my high school English classes, our teacher sent the class to see Mel Gibson’s Hamlet in theatres as part of our Greater Shakespeare Learning Experience. My best friend and I sat down in the movie theatre and couldn’t believe our luck. Movies?!? As part of class?!? How cool was that?!? Then the movie started and, despite Mel Gibson’s extreme hotness (it was 1990 after all), the movie really sucked. But we felt all superior because even with our negligible 10th grade knowledge of Shakespeare, we could tell that the movie butchered the play. Plus, Helena Bonham Carter is just really good at playing insane people. And we got to watch movies instead of do real homework.

Shortly before the wedding, Lunchboy and I decided to get one of those CD courses from The Teaching Company so we could have something educational to listen to on the plane trip to Hawaii, and also because we thought it would be fun to take a class and talk about it together. We got a 22-lecture course on Western Civilization. Did we listen to any of it on the trip to Hawaii? No. But Lunchboy is way ahead of me on the lectures. He’s up to the rise of Rome and I haven’t even started the introduction (I’m not lazy, I just like to read when I’m on the T). But on Saturday we went to see 300 and I have to say that I feel like I made up some historical ground (in a Mel Gibson kind of way). Also, I learned a lot about abdominal muscles. Overall it was an excellent educational experience. Now I actually want to learn about the Battle of Thermopylae again, but only so long as I can watch the movie for visual cues. Did I mention the abs?

Mahalo

Haleakala at dawn:



Luau!



Sunset whale sighting right off the coast of Wailea:



They're waving...



By the lithified cliffs in Poi'ipu near the good hotel in Kauai:



Whale watching! Yes, this is pretty much what we did in Maui:



Smiles on the balcony of the crappy hotel in Kauai:



The coast of Kauai:




Hiking toward the Na Pali coast in Kauai:


A surprise visitor when we got home:

At long last

Still waiting on the honeymoon photos but here are a few wedding pictures taken by Lunchboy's mom:

Mr. and Mrs. Lunchboy:



Us with our families and lots of red eye:



The cutest flower girl and ring bearer ever:




A couple of friends were smart enough to upload their photos. If you want more wedding snaps, go here and here.

Mrs. Lunchboy

What's in a name? A lot, it turns out. When I was deciding whether to take Lunchboy's last name (I am), it never occurred to me how much I had invested in my old last name until people started calling me something else. Suddenly being married felt very..all ecompassing. After all, I'd spent almost 32 years building an identity, an education, a career, a life around the person I was with my old last name. I make a couple of vows, put on a ring, and now I'm supposed to be someone new? I don't think that's the case, but that's kind of how it feels. There's also the issue of whether to keep the old name or whether to hyphenate, but my old last name always made people think I was Jewish and I'm not, so a fresh start is nice. Hyphenation works but seems to get complicated if kids enter the picture.

Quick aside: what's up with the term "maiden name"? Who are we kidding?

The truth is, marriage is a new start. We joined our lives together and I'm not the same person I was before, so I guess it's appropriate to have a new name to go along with the new life. That said, it still takes getting used to. In all the honeymoon advice we received, no one mentioned that taking off for a week or two is an excellent--and much needed--opportunity to stop doing a quadruple take every time someone calls you by a new last name. We still giggle a little whenever it happens. That and we do the Wonder Twins fist bonk with our rings. Shh.

The other thing no one tells you is that legally changing your name is a monumental pain in the ass. It is such a confusing, convoluted, red tape-laden process that I actually shelled out for something called the Bridal Name Change Kit from the Knot--and this is after I vowed never to buy anything from that site. I just want someone to tell me how to do this. Because getting used to being a Mrs. is where I'd rather put my energy.

PS--pictures tomorrow!

The force is with us

We got back from Kauai this afternoon at about 5pm, which was noon Hawaii time and my body is completely confused (isn't daylight savings time on Sunday? Woo!) It's good to be home, although it took getting off the plane and feeling the blast of icy air come through the plane door for us to grasp the fact that it was not in fact 80 degrees outside. Ouch. I wore my flip flops all the way to baggage claim but then admitted defeat and brought out the sneakers.

Hawaii was great. Is Hawaii ever not great? I feel trite and obnoxious getting into how great it was, but we had a wonderful time. Maui was pretty and had lots of whales (we now have video clips and lots of photos of empty ocean where whales were only seconds before--those suckers are hard to catch on film). It reminded me a bit of La Jolla, California, if only because after flying 6,000 miles you expect to get off the plane and be in a foreign country, not be driving by a KMart. Not that La Jolla has Kmarts, but Wailea felt a lot like La Jolla.

Kauai, on the other hand, was wild and gorgeous and uncommercialized and spectacular. We climbed the dunes in Polihale and watched crazy waves hit the shore in five different directions at once. We did a spectacular hike on the north side of the island past the point were you can drive a car. There were no bugs (or, as Lunchboy likes to point out, snakes). After two days of being marooned at a tacky, 70s era hotel, we escaped to the Hyatt and didn't move for 3 days. Bliss.

It wasn't until we got off the plane in LA at 4am that we heard about the helicopter crash in Kauai. Scary. We saw the helicopters buzzing overhead all the time. They seemed safe. But we didn't take a helicopter tour and now I'm extra glad.

As soon as we walked in the door this afternoon, the cats were bewildered. Perhaps it was anger that we left them for two weeks, or that they had a phalanx of friends coming to look in on them (girls, you are well loved!) Or maybe it was the 8ft. tall Darth Vader cut out that Lunchboy's sister used to decorate the house for our homecoming. Not only is he huge and is holding his big pink lightsaber, he talks. "You are not a Jedi yet," he says. "Your destiny lies with me, Skywalker." Perhaps, but you are not my master. At the moment, the bed is my master. ZZzzzzzzz.

WHALES!

We're in Maui until Saturday and then we head to Kauai. Unbeknownst to us, Maui is apparently one of the best vantage points to watch the annual whale migration that happens between November and April. Whole pods of whales are hanging out in the bay off west and south Maui--in the morning and evening, we've seen their spouts and the occasional roll of a smooth back or a fin. But tonight we had the most amazing experience. We were walking along the waterfront path in Wailea, where we're staying, and there were whale spouts going off all over the place, sometimes as close as a few hundred yards offshore. Then, out of nowhere, a mother whale breached and then began slapping her tail and dorsal fin on the water about 250 yards offshore. She slapped her tail about 15-20 times and then got started on her dorsal fin. That fin must have been 20 feet long. It was the most exciting, beautiful, incredibly moving thing to see--we felt so blessed and lucky to be there. Every so often, the baby whale would flash a fin or roll around near its mother. Everyone on the path stopped in their tracks to watch. Lunchboy managed to catch some of the action on camera, but in our exhausted haze on Sunday we forgot to pack the cord that connects the camera to the laptop (duh), so pictures will have to wait :( But then---lots of pictures.