Why it's my virtual house-warming, and everyone's invited!

Internet, I've been a bad, bad blogger. But, I figure, what better way to combat the blogger's block blues than with yet another post with pictures? It's been almost a month since I moved (is it almost September already?) and I finally have my new place all ship-shape and Internet-ready. So, let's get down to it, shall we? 

We'll start in the bedroom. This is where the magic happens, folks. (Ok, so this may be a bit of an exaggeration, as the only Doritos I've had lately are of the quite literal variety. Luckily my rabbit and I are still getting along like gangbusters. So it's ok, take your time, boys. I'll be just fine.) 

 Check out the terrarium-like picture windows (the better to see you with, my deer):

And now my (walk-in!) closet:

It has three sides, and room for all my shoes!

Bathroom, with skylight (that I regularly check for peeping Toms and Tomasinas, because that is just the kind of freak I am):

...and living room (with "cleverly" disguised trunk-o'-winter clothes as coffee table -- two birds with one stone!)

...and the kitchen (or den of domestic delight. No? Ok, just kitchen).

I call this my portal of happiness:

There is also a deck and patio furniture and a grill that I didn't get pictures of because I felt a bit silly and worried that my neighbors who share the deck would see me and think I was a Russian spy or something.

So, this is it, this is my place. It may not have the grace and one hundred year-old charm of my Cambridge apartment, or walking-distance proximity to a boulangerie, like my house in France, but it does have my name on the lease. And my name only. And for the next eleven months, at least, that makes it just about perfect.  

Why a day at the beach is better than just about everything

I am back from what has to be the world's shortest whirlwind of a camping trip. Just enough time to set up camp, lay on the beach for a couple hours, make dinner, wake up to a torrential downpour, pack up and drive four hours back home again. In short, it was a blast.

Once again, there were ponies: 

In fact, the ponies were kind enough to leave us a giant, heaping welcome gift right in the middle of our parking spot (not pictured).

And once again, there was beach:

And once again, there was jumping on the beach! When I told my sister that this year my friends and I had perfected the jumping picture, she groaned. "I am so over jumping pictures," she said. 

"I know," I said. "That's why I went with my friends and not you. They love jumping pictures."  (Here I may have been unable to stop myself from sticking my tongue out, just a little. Maybe.)

"What's a jumping picture?" my dad asked. 

She groaned again. "It's where you take a picture jumping on the beach, but then she wants you to take like fifty more pictures, and it's supposed to look spontaneous, but it's not. It's not spontaneous at all."

And so, in the interest of journalistic integrity, I would like to warn my readers that the following images are the result of careful planning and considerable practice, and are not at all spontaneous. Cry me a river. 

First, the warm-ups:

Not quite there...

Success!!!

Jules got in on the action too:

 All that jumping had made us hungry, so we headed back to camp,
 

made dinner,

and went to bed.

And what are the odds that three college friends, currently residing in Seattle, New York state, and mother-flippin' Zambia could all sync their schedules and manage to meet up in Maryland for less than 24 hours of fun and hi-jinx? 

I don't know, but I'm so glad we did.    

 Ladies, I'll see you in summer 2011?

Why the way to my heart is through Doritos®

Friday night's meet up was...intimate. Maybe...small, is another word for it. It was also (in my humble opinion) a grand success. [F]oxy was so lovely and nice (and good enough to put up with my friend Al and I reminiscing about old times and talking about people he didn't know. I know, don't you just hate when people do that?) As I was saying, [F]oxy is lovely and nice and interesting and he brought me this:  

How did he know a Doritos puppy was just what I wanted??? Ok, so the puppy is just a convenient prop, but the Doritos really were a thoughtful gesture, weren't they? A crunchy, delicious (so much for nostalgia 'cause I already ate them) gesture. 

So who knows, maybe one day I'll make it big as a blogger, get sponsored by Doritos®, and have another meet up to which as many as five whole people show up. Anything's possible, right?

Why I'm pretty on the inside (right???)

Eight hours before the meet up, and my left eye is a pink, swollen, puffy mess. I've hot compressed, I've cold compressed, I've gotten plenty of sleep, and yet I still have the air of a certain disfigured Disney cartoon hunchback. My left thumb is bandaged after an incident with a knife and a particularly wily piece of fruit, and my back is killing me from sleeping on the V-shaped futon. Kalee has an injured foot and can't make it tonight, Jamie's flight was delayed by ten hours and she can't make it either. So much for Friday the thirteenth being my lucky day, right?

I would chalk all this up to my Charlie Brown-style bad luck, and maybe it is, but when I look back to last year at this time, also, coincidentally enough when I was at my parents' house, the list of infirmities reads: two knife wounds, a canker sore, a wasp sting, and fleas. So you see, this is not my fault! This is par for the course! It's not me, it's...it's...this place! I will be lucky to make it out with my life.

***
And now, a brief heart-warming family anecdote:

"Did you make the coffee today, Dad?"

"Yeah."

"I can tell."

"Why, it's not strong enough?"

"Yeah."

"I made it twice as strong as I usually do."

"Becca makes it better."

"I don't like to waste coffee."

"Dad, am I a waste of coffee?" (Here I attempted a sad puppy dog look, which was rendered mostly ineffective by my Quasimodo eye.)

"Yes."

It's always good to know where you stand with your family, you know?      

Why Friday the thirteenth is my lucky day!

The masses have spoken, and Friday at 7:30 it is! Meet here:

If you can't find us, ask the host or hostess for Rachel, or just look for this:

or a bit later in the night, maybe this:
 

but hopefully (fingers crossed) not this:

And now I have posted the worst picture of me in existence for all the world to see. Yeah, this is basically the expression my face was frozen in from ages 11 through 17. I promise there will be no bershon on Friday, however. 

So, be there or...well, don't, what am I going to do? I hope you do come, though. I will be there in my best party dress, and I can't wait to meet you.   

Why it may be summer, but this is certainly not a vacation

I am here! I have arrived! 300 miles, one tank of gas, and six and a half years hours later and I am at the house of chaos and dog hair, otherwise known as casa di ma familia, or chez ma famille. As usual, the standard house rules apply, and they are as follows: 1) it will be a complete mess, and 2) there will be absolutely nothing edible anywhere in the vicinity. I have only been here two hours, and already one or the other of my parents has informed me, nay, insisted, that a) actually, iceberg lettuce is packed full of vitamins and nutrients, and he knows it's true because he saw it on television, thank you very much, and b) Advil PM doesn't actually have any sleep-inducing agents in it, it's just marked PM because it's safe to take it at night because it doesn't have any caffeine in it, and wasn't I planning on going to bed soon anyway? I casually mentioned the fact that according to the clock, it was 8:30, mother, and by casually I mean in a way that caused my jaw to clench and the already throbbing vein in my head to pulsate just a bit more, though I did force myself to walk away before I reached complete aneurysm, so there is that. 

And, as it turns out, I will also have the privilege of sleeping on a partially reclined futon in my sister's room instead of my comfortable bed in the room that has been mine for the last (I'm not even exaggerating) thirty years, because, as I found out when I walked in the door, my sister took the liberty of moving all of my stuff into her room, and all of her stuff into mine. Surprise! Which, fine, she lives here now and I don't, and that room is bigger, but thirty years of habit takes some getting used to. And, you know, carefully constructed safe haven and all that, but whatever. Bygones.

Maybe I'm just cranky because I'm hungry. I think I'm going to head into the kitchen and eat some iceberg lettuce, take an Advil PM, brush the dog hair off the futon and call it a night.

Why I'm home on the range

Did you ever have a moment where time stood still? Did you ever think you were alone only to startle and look up as your two sets of eyes locked and held each other's gaze? Did one of you take a tentative step towards the other only to shyly recoil, and then all too soon the moment was over?  

This, believe it or not, is the view from my new bedroom window. It's sort of like living in the zoo, although it's hard to say who it is that's on display here. I thought there were deer at my last house, but I think it's safe to say there's no shortage of them here either.

(Babies!!!)

And, because I know of no more graceful way to do this...

For my legions of D.C.-based followers (ahem), let's do this thing! I propose a meet up either this Thurs. or Fri. evening (Aug. 12 or 13) at the Brickskeller. Let me know which you prefer. Or if you haven't responded yet but will be in the area, feel free to chime in as well. Apparently [F]oxy is bringing me a surprise. I can hardly contain myself! 

Why I need a boyfriend (reason #19,659)

Well, where to start? So, I'm here! I moved and it was only minimally traumatic, as is to be expected when one has heavy boxes to move and moving trucks to drive and no boyfriend and only one friend who hasn't left town for the weekend who has sort of grudgingly agreed to help. Not to mention the fact that U-Haul double booked a reservation and handed me the keys to a box truck instead of the cargo van I had requested specifically because it was not a box truck, which I then had to drive all around town. And which ended up being fine, and, you know, go me, but standing at the counter of the U-Haul office and scanning the line of customers it went something like: male, male, male, probably male, male, me. And, not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, I thought, Goddamn, I wish I had a boyfriend. You know, not for love or companionship or anything like that ('cause my formerly soft and squishy insides have pretty much calcified into igneous rock by now), but to stand in the never-ending U-Haul line and to move my massively outdated and (I have been told) unnecessarily heavy television for me. I am not trying to be anti-feminist here, and yeah, as it turns out I am perfectly capable of driving a 10 ft truck around town, but the t.v.? It's just not happening. Have you seen these arms? They're like two al dente spaghetti noodles, pretty well toned and yet thoroughly useless. I tried moving that t.v. once, and after realizing my mistake a split second too late all I could do was try to slow its descent to the ground, and hope that my toes cushioned the impact. (Both it, and my toes, survived.) But it does sort of piss me off that I'm not as self-sufficient as I feel like I should be. Did you know that when I have to put air in my tires at the gas station, I have to rely on an embarrassed smile and a helpless shrug to flag down whatever capable-looking guy happens to be walking by?

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes. So the new place is lovely and perfect, though not so perfect that I can post pictures of it yet, as I hope to get the box situation under control first. 

Annnnnnnd tomorrow is the last day of class for the summer, although the fall semester starts August 25th, which is still summer in my book, but at least I get a couple weeks off in between. I'm going to go home, maybe meet up with some other bloggers and readers (ummm, Kalee? [F]oxy? Shannon? You guys still in? Bueller?), and go hang with some ponies on the beach. I just have to get through tomorrow first. 

So, how are all of you? What's the best thing about this summer? And don't just not answer, 'cause I really want to know. Ready? GO!