Bucket List Update and Revision

My new change of location midsummer prompted a few additions to the summer bucket list.

1. Read Les Miserables.
2. Get tan(ish).
3. Learn a new song on the piano.
4. Find cheap flights to Denver for Mark's wedding (fingers crossed).
5. Write something every day.
6. Explore the lighthouse at Discovery Park.
7. Go to Elliott Bay Bookstore (and don't spend more than $30).
8. Find the Sleepless in Seattle house.
9. Listen to the singing monks.
10. Become the alpha-male of the dogs I nanny.
11. Swim in Green Lake.
12. Go to the Jimmy Eat World concert.
13. Go to the Death Cab concert.
14. Visit the awesome cemetery on Capitol Hill.
15. Read a Russian (with emotional clearance from Melis and/or C).
16. Start (and finish) Jesus the Christ.
17. Make tortillas.
18. Watch The Breakfast Club.
19. Paint.
20. Go on a trip. (Canada? Spokane?)
21. Dance on the roof.
22. Attend a reading (or three).
23. Go boating.
24. See the PUPPIES.
25. Show Jess an episode of AR with STEVE HOLT.
26. Go to the temple with the boy.
27. Fish. (Thomas?)
28. Wash the car regularly.
29. Visit the Seattle Art Museum.
30. Go to an outdoor movie.
31. Ride a ferryboat.
32. Go to a Mariners game.
33. Hit the Ballard Seafoodfest.
34. Visit Chihuly Garden and Glass.
35. Ride the ferris wheel.
36. Go to the Marathon memorial in Copley Square.
37. Swim at Walden Pond.
38. Visit the JFK Museum.
39. Buy an air conditioner.
40. Attend a concert at the Hatch Shell.
41. Go to a Red Sox game.
42. Hit up Boston Magazine's Ice Cream Spectacular list.

On Coming Home

Ten days ago I flew to my city, arriving to witness the intense love for their teams, even though we lost to Chicago while I was on the plane. Sadness. (Andy, no gloating.)

I spent the night with a cat and the next morning had two and a half hours of interviews with some of the nicest people I have ever met. Their company is pretty great, too. The afternoon was spent on Charles Street eating pizza and JP Licks with my favorite people, and even though I didn't really know, I knew I'd be walking to Harvard Square for more JP Licks with my darling Anne Marie regularly.

And I was right. I'm flying in July 29, walk to Harvard that evening AM? I can't think of a better way to restart my life in Boston.

Back Again

Copley Square

This is quite possibly my favorite spot in all of Boston.
And it's getting harder to leave every time.

Published, Again

I recently submitted a guest post to the LDS literary blog called Segullah, and today they published it. So for today's reading, I'd like to redirect your attention here.


And yes, I am excited to be publishing things a few weeks in a row. Even if it is just for blogs. A whole lot better than no publishing at all.

I would just like to go on record saying

when a boy says to you, "Can I take you on a date on Saturday?" it is so much nicer than, "Do you want to go to dinner?" or (worse), "We should do something this weekend!"


500 points to you already, sir. Way to be ballsy and call it what it is. 

The Ballet. Also, Dan.

Last night after eating massive amounts of teriyaki while watching this week's episode of The Mindy Project (Have you watched it yet? "Danny, will you make a pact?" I died.), I got all dressed up in a fancy fluffy dress (thanks, Megan!) and went to the Pacific Northwest Ballet's Nutcracker.

It was magical.

Elise, me, Amy

Several years ago, Maurice Sendak partnered with the PNB manager to design the sets and costumes. I loved reading about that in the program, because the sets just felt like Maurice Sendak. And it's really such a great story for him to be a part of. All about the ease of children to slip in and out of fantasy.

Easy to see him in the set, isn't it?

The sets were fabulous, the costumes were beautiful (I must, must get a tulle skirt that flies up when you twirl), and the music in the second act had me grinning the entire time. It was a wonderful night.




In other news, today my dear friend Dan turns 28. (So old.) If we still lived in the same state, we would celebrate with cake waffles again. As it is, I'm eating french toast tonight. I'll think of you and your birthday and how I'm so glad we became friends during that perfect Boston summer.

It was magical too.

Moved In (Finally)

After three months of living in this house, I finally have all my pictures hung on the walls in my room. You'd think I'd be more on top of that. I wasn't in Boston either. But now I can finally supply the photos that were requested (sorry it took so long, AM).

Thinking about this time last year

I was wicked busy with my magazine, and D got me hooked on Gossip Girl. Those were the only other things that happened Thanksgiving weekend, other than Thanksgiving. Which was a delightful day:

All photos blatantly stolen from AM's blog last year. Love you, AM!

Scotland

Went with the boy to see Skyfall last night. After reading two thirds of The Flight of Gemma Hardy and loving every single description of Scotland (especially the Orkney Islands) and discovering a deep desire to move there, this scene pretty much clinched it:

Image Source.

Seriously perfect.

My City by the Bay

Bright and early tomorrow morning Mom and I are flying into the John Wayne airport via San Jose to drive back up 101 (probably) and spend Tuesday in our favorite city with Michael and Nate. Weather forecast is sunny and 72. We can't wait.

Thank Goodness for November

Text to C Wednesday afternoon:

Sometimes being an adult sucks.

Response from C:

Most times. 

Later, after getting home from my printmaking class (the only redeeming thing about the day) and not watching The Orphanage as planned (darn you, Reed, and all your editing projects), I realized that with the passing of Halloween, it is now November. The month of gratitude prayers.

Usually it's just a week of gratitude prayers, the week leading to Thanksgiving. But at the rate things are going sucking, a month sounds like an excellent plan. 

If we could float away

This post is long overdue.

McCall and I went to the very much anticipated Coldplay concert in a time when both our lives were filled with anxiety. She was taking the dreaded NCLEX two days later, and I was preparing to quit my job and move across the country (plus it was nearly birthday week). (She had more anxiety than I did.)

We picked up dinner on the way—Buffalo chicken macaroni and cheese will be forever linked with the anticipation felt this night—and at some point during our trip to the TD Gardens I told McCall that this was the night she might see me dance.

It is well known by all my friends in all stages of life that I rarely dance in front of people. But this concert was different than all those times I've refused to dance. There was a palpable energy in the room; I felt the music in my bones. And when the music is that deep inside of you, you really don't have a choice but to dance.

We sang and we danced, and when Chris Martin came out and started "Us Against the World" alone on the acoustic guitar, McCall cried (but, you know, Chris Martin is her sloth).



I have never been as jealous of Gwyneth Paltrow as I was that night.

My Buddy

When I moved to Boston, I left my Melis in Provo. After talking to her nearly every day since after leaving Egypt in September 2008, I had to deal with some serious best friend withdrawals. I made several really good Boston friends, but Melis and I both know that the one who came closest to replacing her (no one will ever replace you, M) was dear Anne Marie.

Photo of us on my birthday, stolen from AM.
Please excuse the packing mess in my room.

Anne Marie is a sweet, strong, funny person. Her laugh is infectious, especially when she laughs in less-than-appropriate settings (Sacrament Meeting). She loves ice cream more than I do, and that's saying something. She is an excellent example of healthy living, something I will never do as well as she does. She uses her time wisely. She doesn't submit to social pressure when she isn't interested in doing certain things, which I appreciate. She loves pigs. Her parents are her best friends. She is a great conversationalist and a fabulous listener. And she knows when a girl needs chocolate.

Anne Marie is exactly the kind of person you want around when you want to have fun, or just be chill. She will go on ice cream runs, and walks to talk about life. She'll discuss nail polish as seriously as she does her schoolwork, and she is a critical and honest shopping partner. She is brave, and encourages bravery in others. She will never give up on you, and always has your back.

And because I'm sure Mel will make them play the game, I would marry Anne Marie because she is such an honest and faithful friend. She is the best kind of buddy a girl could ask for.


Happy birthday, AM. I sure do love you.

A Perfect Day

Though technically today was my last full day in Boston, I really considered yesterday to be it. Today was Sunday, which meant church and a nap and other Sunday things that aren't very Boston-y. But yesterday was the most Boston-y of Boston-y days.

I got up early (on a Saturday, be proud) to accomplish a few moving errands, and chit chatted in the kitchen with Mel. Then I took the T across the Charles to Newbury Street for a hair appointment with my wonderful stylist, Amy. We talked about moving and how much we love the Pacific Northwest, and when she was finished I walked out into the Boston humidity that slowly curled my newly-styled hair as I walked the length of Newbury Street to the Boston Public Library. I walked through that beautiful old building with its arched ceilings and green lamps where I wrote my paper on Salman Rushdie and designed my beautiful poetry book. Then I took Boylston Street through Copley Square, Arlington, the Boston Gardens, and the Common. Past Robert McCloskey's ducklings on whose backs I once jumped. Past Emerson and the hole-in-the-wall burrito place. Past the stage for Shakespeare in the Common. Past Boston Magazine's Best of Boston award winning UBurger frappes.

That afternoon I drove with Mel and D to Walden Pond, stopping for drinks at Cumberland Farms on the way. We avoided the beach and instead found a rock stairway down to the lake (though this time we didn't have to sneak in) and swam in the dirty, duck-filled water for an hour. The sun came out as we did, and we made our way to Kimball Farms where I shared delicious heath bar ice cream with AM, and Curtis ate a pint by himself. We sat at a picnic table under an umbrella, admiring a beautiful curly-haired baby and laughing at the noisy geese behind the fence as we waited out the pouring rain that started while we sat.

In the evening we went to the mall to return some items and look for a few more. As usual, Mel, D, and I got separated and then went to all the same stores at different times. D got some great deals and I wanted to buy out both Banana Republic and J. Crew, so it was a normal shopping experience.

Instead of our typical Saturday night laziness at home, we got dressed up and AM, Curtis, and Calvin accompanied us to the South End for dinner at The Gallows. The restaurant was fun, the food was delicious, and we all looked (plus Curtis and AM smelled) excellent. As did the restaurant's coasters. So good, in fact, I may or may not have taken one with me as an example of gorgeous design. The drive home through our beautiful city all lit up made me feel so lucky that it was a part of my life. I will miss it.

Bye, Boston.

On Turning Twenty-Four

Last night D cleaned the entire bathroom, including throwing the shower curtain into the washer. It was an excellent idea, people rarely think to clean the shower curtain (right? Or is that just me?), but left me in a bit of a pickle when I needed to take a shower since there’s a window right next to our footed-bathtub. Ever brilliant, D suggested showering in the dark. Which is exactly what I did.

I don’t think I’d ever showered in the dark before, and as I was reflecting on it (pun intended) I started to pay more attention to my body than I usually do in the shower. (Don’t worry, this won’t get graphic.) I realized that my body is 24 years old—it isn’t just me turning 24 today, my body is too. And wow, does anything else maintain its durability as well as your body for 24 years? A car doesn’t. Clothes certainly don’t. Most animals die, houses quite possibly lose value, food spoils (and if it doesn’t you probably don’t want to be eating 24-year-old food anyway). There really isn’t anything else in life that lasts well for as long as your body. And yes, you will hit a point when it starts to deteriorate. But I’m 24. I haven’t hit that point. Sure, I find grey hair once a week (thanks, Dad) and have some leg pain and my stomach doesn’t always agree with me. But really? My body works great. After 24 years. What an amazing thing.

I’ve been reading Nora Ephron essays lately and when she writes about age she laments not wearing a bikini the entire year she was 26. After my realization last night, I’m thinking that’s not such a bad idea.

Happy birthday, body.

A Magical Place

My amazing friend Lindsay Brown moved to Plymouth last month for a new job. She invited me to spend the day with her yesterday, and we had a rockin' time.

I took the commuter rail from South Station to Plymouth.

And I got an entire bench to myself.

Hello, Plymouth!

Lindsay picked me up at the commuter rail station and we hit the town. Plymouth is darling. Lindsay's house is literally minutes from the water (also from the rock). We went into a bunch of cute shops, got fantastic smoothies at a smoothie shack, and perused a British import store that had some great Cadbury chocolate and FLAKES. Like we had in Jerusalem! So so exciting.

Flakes. Amazing.

After lunch at home we headed to Scusset Beach on Cape Cod. The most beautiful ocean I've ever seen over there. So blue and so clear.

There was a lighthouse and sail boats.

Good grief, it was gorgeous.

After the beach we went home, got dressed a little fancy, and went out to dinner at T bones. And maybe ate more food than I normally do in a week. Two appetizers, a half rack of ribs, and two sides (including the most delicious peach BBQ beans I have ever tasted).

Potato skins and buffalo chicken dip. Yum.

So so much food.

And after dinner we may have gotten ice cream. Oof. And then fell asleep watching An Ideal Husband. Love Oscar Wilde. Love Plymouth. Love Lindsay.

Those Are Very Powerful Words

In August 2006 I asked my mom to go buy Sleepless in Seattle for me to watch while I recovered from my wisdom teeth surgery. She got mixed up at the store and bought You've Got Mail  instead. I'd already seen You've Got Mail, Abby and Kari used to quote it all the time ("Or his elbows were in splints so he couldn't really dial"), and I though Sleepless would be appropriate since I'd watched An Affair to Remember in the hospital after back surgery.

Boy howdy, I'm glad she made that mistake.

I make more life comparisons to You've Got Mail than any other movie or book I know. Just last week, I was discussing relationships with a friend and Dave Chappelle came to mind:

"I always take a relationship to the next level. And if that works then I take it to the next level after that. Until I finally reach that level where it becomes absolutely necessary for me to leave."

That's solid relationship advice, right there.


Sometimes, people ask questions that have answers pulled right out of the script:

"Are you online?"
"As far as I'm concerned, the internet is just another way of being rejected by women."

And when I can't make decisions, or when I walk into a Starbucks, I remember that people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, buy not just a cup of coffee, but a defining sense of self:

"Tall! Decaf! Cappuccino!"

Most people relate to one character in a story, but I really think there's a little piece of everyone in me.

Frank loves his typewriter. Irrationally. He makes up crazy theories. (The whole idea of the VCR is that it makes it possible for you to tape what's on television when you leave the house. The whole point of leaving the house is so that you miss what's on television.) And he gets caught up in ideas that distract him from reality. (You *snap* are a lone reed. You are a lone . . . reed . . . standing tall, waving proudly . . . in the corrupt sands . . . of commerce. *zing*)

Christina is a bit of a pessimist sometimes. She also seems to be easily stressed out, and might make things into much bigger deals than they actually are. (But what if we have to fold? I'm never going to find another part time job and I won't be able to pay my rent, and then I'm going to have to move. To Brooklyn.) But she helps Kathleen consider all sides of a problem. (Remember when you thought Frank might be the Unabomber?)

George is devoted to his job: he loves the books. (The illustrations are hand tipped . . . That's why they're worth so much.) And he wants everyone else to love them as much as he does. (George is great, he's revolutionizing the place. You can't work in his department unless you have a PhD in children's literature.)

Birdie takes care of everyone. She is sympathetic and encouraging even when she can't solve the problem. (Cecilia, what should we do? . . . She says she has no idea. But she thinks the window display is lovely.) She is a romantic, yet pragmatic about her life all at the same time. (Now I suppose you want me to tell you who I fell madly in love with. But I'm not going to tell you. It wasn't meant to be. . . . He ran Spain. The country, he ran it. That was his job. And then he died. Just as well. Milk, or lemon?)

Joe can be sarcastic and dry. (We are the price club. Only instead of selling you a ten gallon vat of olive oil that can't even fit under your kitchen sink, we sell cheap books. Me, a spy.) But he genuinely cares about people and owns up to his mistakes. (I cannot tell you what happened last night. But from the bottom of my heart, I beg you to forgive me for what happened. . . . I'm still here. Talk to me.)

Kathleen loves the people in her life. She's not a fighter by nature, but she'll fight for what matters. (Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!) She knows what's important, but she also wonders if she can do something more. (Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, valuable, but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?)

You've Got Mail teaches me that people are always saying change is a good thing. But what they're really saying is that something you didn't want to happen at all has happened. It teaches me that sometimes you have to go to the mattresses. It teaches me to say Happy Thanksgiving back. It teaches me that when I know the exact thing I want to say in the exact moment I want to say it, I will feel terrible. Because no matter what anyone does to me, that is no excuse for my behavior. It teaches me that when you read a book as a child it becomes part of your identity in a way no other reading does. It teaches me that the brave thing to do is daring to imagine that you could have a different life.


Most romantic comedies are more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings.

So, thanks.


Nora Ephron, you will be missed.

People Like Lists

Two (count them) people have suggested that I make a list of things that I want to do in Boston this summer. "If you write them down you're more likely to do them!" says my mother. So, this is a post full of summer lists.

Because who doesn't like lists?

Boston Summer Fun List

• SAIL. Because, good grief, it still hasn't happened. But it will, darn it. 
• Visit the JFK Library and Museum. Shocking I haven't done this yet, no?
• Traipse around the USS Constitution.
• Wander through the Boston Athenaeum. This might never happen. We've planned it a bajillion times. (UPDATE since starting this list: it is happening today! In roughly an hour!)
• See the exhibit on printmaking at the BPL. Seriously! (UPDATE: happened. See two weeks ago.)
• Go to a Red Sox game.
• Go to John Adams's house. I hear the library is stunning.
• Play with Lindsay in Plymouth.
• Go to Salem. Witches. Nathaniel Hawthorne. How is this not a good idea?
• Drink another peach-mango smoothie in the North End. oh goodness. (Dan, you'll vouch, they are amazing, aren't they?)
• Attend the Coldplay concert with McCall (woohoo!).

East Coast Summer Fun List

• See the Hannah Duston statue in New Hampshire. I'm so close. How can I not go?
• Go to Maine! And eat lobster! And figure out why I've been in love with it for years (with Maine, not lobster. I've never tried lobster.).
• Wander to Prince Edward Island? Oh that would be awesome.
• Meet Miranda in Providence. Might turn into NYC/Boston/DC (we don't know yet).
• Visit Michelle's family in New York again.
• See DC one more time. Man, I'll miss that city.
• Play tour guide for Kait and Erik when they come down, yay!

Summer Reading List

• Anna Karenina (UPDATE: I was told to avoid the Russians this summer because of how much what I read affects my mood.)
• The Problem of Pain
• Howards End
• Imagine
• The Lost World
• Les Miserables
• Crime and Punishment OR The Brothers Karamazov (UPDATE: see Anna Karenina.)
• Midnight's Children
• Dandelion Wine
• The Sun Also Rises
• Persuasion
• Eve and the Choice Made in Eden
• Anthem

That's it for now. But we all know I'll make more lists. I love lists. So, suggestions?

On the Friday before a three-day weekend,

when you discover that you get to leave work four hours early,

you make plans. Obviously.


First, you stop at Starbucks to visit Jackie and/or Emily (can't remember if they're both there on Fridays?) and get some hot chocolate, because it's surprisingly cooler than was expected today (good choice on the jeans rather than a skirt this morning).

Next, you walk 1.5 miles from the Starbucks at Faneuil Hall down to the Boston Public Library at Copley Square. It will look something like this:

When you arrive at the BPL, you don't go straight for the books (even though you want to). Instead, you go to the Changing Exhibits Gallery to see this:

Image via BPL.

After being inspired by printmaking, you browse the books. Also, you look for Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows on CD because they are no longer available via grooveshark. You might hit up the DVDs, maybe they have Anne of Green Gables? Or, even better, Liam Neeson movies! (Specifically, The Mission. Also, Taken.)

Once browsing has ended, you take public transit back home, where, if you were successful in your movie search, you take your laptop to the kitchen to watch a Liam Neeson (or Anne?) movie, put on stretchy pants and your Garamond T-shirt, take out your ink, rubber blocks, and printmaking tools, and attempt to recreate art you saw at the BPL. You might also paint with oils. It is quite likely you will accidentally paint the tiny kitchen table while doing so.

Hours later, when your roommate and her best friend arrive home, you realize you should probably stop making messes pretending to be an artist and actually eat a real meal. So you clean the table, wash your hands, and eat something before spending hours alternating between reading Howards End and watching either A Room with a View or episodes of How I Met Your Mother on Netflix, depending on how cultured you feel. Then you go to bed surprisingly early, considering the rest of the week.



And that's how you start a three-day weekend when you get to leave the office four hours early.

The L Section

There are a lot of things I could blog about this week. I could blog about my growing loathing for Amazon, and the excellent series of articles published in the Seattle Times about a month ago (it's a four-part series, make sure to read them all).

I could blog about my recent trip to the MFA and how I still recognize what carvings mean in the Egyptian exhibits. They make me homesick. Always.

I could blog about ending school, and how we keep getting together (Clarke's, Border Cafe, Starbucks, Max Brenner) "one last time" because we don't want to say goodbye.


But instead, I'll give you this video for Mothers Day. I'll be busy with my own mother (in Boston! They'll be here tonight!), so I probably won't be posting much, but this is beautiful. I've expressed my great love for Billy Collins in the past, and when I heard him read at Boston College a few months ago that love just increased. He's a fabulous writer, and an equally fabulous reader. (Not everyone is both.)

But you know, the audience laughs at some of the lines. They did it when he read at BC, too. I imagine it's because his delivery is so straight-faced, which is great, but really, I don't find this one funny. I think it's really sweet, and a little sad, and very true.

Watch "The Lanyard" by Billy Collins on PBS. See more from Poetry Everywhere.