Baggage

Well, there is no mistaking it; I've got a lot of baggage.  Literally... As I look around the apartment at the three empty suitcases that I'll inevitably fill, I am suddenly overwhelmed.

Getting ready to go on a trip for an undetermined length of time is a somewhat daunting process.  Do I pack work clothes? Bedding? Winter boots, jackets and scarves?  Do I pack light and have some things shipped if I stay longer?? Oy...

Meanwhile, my poor little dogs are hovering around the luggage and pacing the apartment.  As soon as I pull out the suitcases, they look at them wide eyed and nervous: not this again.

I won't be able to take my dogs with me yet.  It would make the settling in process about a hundred times more difficult.  And if I can spare them the added anxiety of roommates, city traffic, and late nights, then there is no question that I ought to leave them behind... for now.

It's crazy.

I look around and see a patchwork quilt of my life, post graduation.  I feel lucky to have experienced so much over the past eleven years since high school.  What a wild ride.  From the West Coast to the  great Southwest, then down to the Mid South and up to the Midwest; my life looks more like a stack of postcards rather than the images I see in most of my peers' family albums.  But that's just me.  That is the nature of change and adapting to whatever circumstance I seem to be in the midst of. It's an amazing thing, to have had the good fortune of living life in so many wondrous places.

But the baggage I accumulated over the years is bulky, heavy and perhaps excessive. There are some things I am holding on to that may not serve me on the road ahead.  Like my wedding china for instance; someone please tell me what I am supposed to do with that??  The delicate place settings, serving bowls and coffee cups have lasted much longer than my marriage ever did.  And I carry the box around from state to state with precision and care... And I am over it.

Sometimes I imagine taking a trip to Greece, where upon arrival, I unwrap the delicate wedding china and hurl it at the pristine white floor and let it smash at my feet while shouting OPA!!! In this fantasy, I am dancing around the shattered pieces, wearing a crown of olive leaves and a sleek white dress similar to Aphrodite's.

Hummus anyone?

And what about the other items I have hauled around from place to place: pictures, dresses and books of poetry? Shall I stand at the mouth of the East River and toss it in as some sacrificial offering to Manhattan... to my future?? 

Or shall I continue to leave it happily collecting dust in my storage, as I have done for the past few years? The boxes are stacked high; one on top of the other... Talk about excess baggage.

I know that the day will surely come when I will know what to do.  I can sense that I am inching my way closer to the answer with each passing season.  I don't want this much baggage.

I don't need it either.

But the answer hasn't come to me yet.  But I have a hunch that it is waiting for me in this next place I explore: probably under a shady tree, speckled with October's rose and amber hues in the midst of Central Park. Perhaps then I will know what to do and how to shed these bulky items that are no longer serving me. Alas, I continue to pack.

*Note to self: have fun, work hard, be safe and travel light! 

Today:

Cape Cod

1 oz Vodka
2 oz Cranberry Juice
Garnish with a lime wedge
On the Rocks!

It's a Jungle Out There

It's no secret by now that I am a thirty year old single woman.  Big deal.  Although I am not overly affected by my singular status at this point in time, there are some days where it would be nice to not wear the label of 'Single White Female.'  It's like wearing a raw NY strip around my neck while taking a nature walk through the Amazon.  It can be a bit... uuhhhh, uncomfortable.

A friend of mine convinced me  to go out last night to a local bar to celebrate my newfound freedom from my job behind the bar.  "It's your last shift, let me buy you a drink."

It's funny... Even though I am a bartender, I'm not much into the whole bar scene.  But the gesture was certainly sweet of her and I agreed that it was a night worth celebrating, so we went out. 

Looking around the crowed room, ladies were out numbered 2-1,  I suddenly began to wonder if I had made a mistake.  They were like a pride of big game cats, out on the prowl. 

While I was definitely in the mood to celebrate, I was not in the mood to ward off the local game.  Too bad.  

The first old cat swaggered up and took a seat next to me.  He was a walking, head-to-toe mid-life crisis;  sporting a white polo sweatshirt with a flipped up collar and a scruffy three day beard.  He launched into our conversation like he had undoubtedly been doing with stealthy precision for the past thirty-five years.  Oh great, thanks for telling me how beautiful I am while you try to conceal your wedding ring. 

It's so gross!  Please go home to your wife and leave us single gals alone.   

My friend is only twenty-two but can shut it down hard.  I guess she's kind of a pro at this sort of thing.  She somehow interjected a comment that I am still trying to process as to how it registered as an immediate deflection.  It was like magic.  He instantly shook my hand and turned to his friend. Game Over. 

Okay, back to OUR conversation.  It was difficult to focus on my friend as I could sense that we were being stalked by yet another overly eager male, directly to her left.  He popped into our conversation with one of the most awkward lead in openers ever... "What are you ladies drinking?"  Not only is that a.) Boring b.) annoying c.) none of his business and d.) completely unwarranted; it was also made all the more awkward when my friend assumed that meant (what it almost always does mean) and she informed him that we weren't really drinking anything anymore... we were just about done.  

I could see the look of rejection wash all over him and he slurred, "Well I wasn't suggesting I was going to buy you a drink, I was just curious what you ladies were drinking."  Okay creep.  You weren't offering, you were just curious?? Puhhhlease.... Ugh...WEIRDO.  

"Well that was awkward," I said to him, shaking my head.  

Look, I am not some stuck up chick who won't give a guy a break.  I appreciate an honest attempt at getting to know someone in the midst of a crowed room of hopefuls.  But, one thing was pretty clear to me last night after being approached by a married man and a few awkward open liners; it's a jungle out there.  

I may be out of my element there... at the local watering hole... but can't I just take my sip and move along without having to fend for myself? 

Is this what it's like everywhere???? 

*Consider this an open discussion.*  

If you have any suggestions or good advice of your own survival instincts/experiences in the jungle... I will gladly listen.

Here is a little something I would like to say to all the married, sketchy crazies out there in the jungle-

Hey, Big Cat... You see, I'm more of a lone wolf.  I may also be out on the prowl in my own way, but I'm of the kind who mate for life.  We are a rare breed.  Kinda like penguins and swans. Please hunt someone more like you. Thanks.  

Sincerely, Not Interested.  

Today:

WHITE LION
3/4 oz. Fresh Lime Juice
1/2 oz. simple Syrup
1/4 oz. Raspberry Syrup
1/2 oz. Curacao
2 oz. Medium Rum
Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into white wine glass filled with crushed ice. Garnish with berries and a lime wedge. .

For this and other drink recipes click here!

The Loneliest Number

If life is funny, then love is hysterical.  And if one is the loneliest number, then at one point or another, we're all kind of screwed!

I've been thinking a lot lately about perfect pairings: salt and pepper, wine and cheese, mom and dad.  They go together in seemingly perfect harmony, bringing out the finest, most delicate qualities in their counterpart. When I stop and think about it, the prospect of complementing another human being (for eternity) sounds a little daunting.  For as much as you might compliment one person, how can you be sure they will truly do the same for you?  And if one is the loneliest number, then why do we try so hard to find the one?? Chew on that for a moment!  

I've been on my own a little while now.  I'd like to think it's not so bad really.  Table for one please... yup, that's right... it's just me. 

Searching for just the right one of anything sounds a little exhausting.  It's difficult enough to find a pair of jeans that fit just right, let alone if I had to find a pair to fit me for the rest of my life.  Yikes. They'd better be comfortable, durable, well made, and above all else, flexible.  

Like most people, I tend to go through phases. One day, out of nowhere, I suddenly loved green olives.  I hated them my entire life, until one day, out of the blue, I decided to give them another try.  And just like that: POOF! Sparks were flying and violins were playing as I savored the little green olive, as if for the very first time.  From that moment on, I couldn't imagine my life without them.  They are freaking delicious!

Same thing happened with mushrooms, hot yoga, and drinking sake...What the heck??!! 

Last night, as I leaned up against the wall of a moderately crowded bar, I looked around and saw an army of singles.  It was so apparent who was flying solo in fact, that the scattered couplings jumped out of the mix and were quite easy to identify.  Pairings of all shapes and sizes huddled together, lost in their own little eight ball, corner pocket of love.  Some looked like they had indeed found the one, while others were definitely trying to squeeze into a pair of jeans that clearly no longer fit.  It was amusing to listen to one couples' story of how they fell in love: after a drunken night at Taco Bell, waiting for a ride and asking for directions. To each their own I guess. 

But they seemed genuinely happy and it stuck with me all night. 

Looking around the bar I realized something profound, I may be just one, but I believe that is the right one for right now.  And if one is in fact the loneliest number, well maybe that isn't so bad. 

Here are some perks of being a party of one.  Sleeping diagonally across the bed.  Not having to sort the socks in the laundry.  Knowing exactly when your coffee creamer is about to run out.  Scoring the perfect seat in a crowded movie theater.  Going to a book store and losing track of time.  Taking spontaneous last minute trips.  Easier access to emergency boats, exits and escapes.  Lots and lots of time to write about random things, like a newfound love affair with green olives and late night fast food encounters.  

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that one doesn't seem like the loneliest number after all.  I would argue instead that the loneliest number you'll ever have to face, is the one you haven't learned how to be alone with when you look in the mirror.  

Fall in love with that one first, and you might never be lonely again.  And any addition from there? Well that's just math made in heaven. 

Today:

Raspberry Martini

1 1/2 oz of Grey Goose Vodka

1/2 oz of Chambord Liqueur

1/2 oz of Pama Liqueur

Splash of cranberry

Shake and strain into a martini glass

Flying Solo.

  

Wishful Thinking

Last night, after I served yet another Saturday night behind the bar, I decided to join an old friend for a quick bite to eat.  It only took about three minutes of catching up, before the conversation made a U-turn and took us back.  Back in time.  Back when we were just little kids, skipping stones across the lakeshore.

I sat there, over my salmon salad, and fought the tears that were welling up.  I realized right then, at the exact moment I said the words aloud, that I wished things could be like they used to be.

I spent every summer here in northern Michigan growing up.  The summers were as magical as anything you would read about in a storybook: campfires on the beach, fireflies in the meadows, frequent trips to the movie theater, fireworks, festivals, miniature golf and long boat rides across the bay.

In that respect, this place hasn't really changed.  We've changed.  We are no longer those carefree kids, spending all of our weekends together.  When this occurred to me last night, I had the sudden urge to cry.  And I realized, how lonely it is this summer, all these years later.

Their family made our family feel at home here.  They are the kind of people who make everything in life a little extra special: birthdays, holidays and regular old every-days.  They are the kind of friends who stay in your heart, no matter the time or circumstances that life may have turned your way.

But history has a way of hanging around.  And we have so much history as friends and so on, that the picture I had imagined of a lifelong friendship, is a little blurry now.  And I wondered; can we all get back to that closeness we once shared? Or is this simply wishful thinking? 

Everyone has moved on.  Our lives are all very different from how they used to be.  Marriage, college, divorce, babies, travel, breakups, and new relationships are all a significant part of that picture these days.  Some have mixed feelings.  Some have no feelings per se, just wishes.  And as for me, I simply wish we could all cherish the past, and create a revised picture of our future together as friends.

When I came home last night, I stood under the great expanse of the night sky and looked up at the stars.  They twinkled in that way that makes you feel so small, yet so hopeful at the same time.  As I stared off into outer space, I lost track of time and began to make a series of wishes.

I often write about a better world; a kinder place to coexist.  I have strong ideals and hopes for this experience of living life: of learning and loving.  But unfortunately, the wish of one person might actually complicate or cancel out another person's wish entirely.  So instead of wishes coming true, it's more just like wishful thinking.  

The reality is, we all imagine our lives to be one way or another.  We have hopes that might not align with one another.  And so, it's for that reason, that you can't always get what you want, because it might really screw up what someone else wants.

I don't know that I will ever again enjoy the closeness I once shared with this family.  Perhaps it was a moment in time.  Perhaps it is selfish to want more time with them than I have already been given.  Perhaps more than any of that, they represent to me, a time in my life that was simple, carefree and was nothing short of magical. Perhaps that should be more than enough.  Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

Throughout the course of our life, we split hairs over silly conflicts that don't actually exist.  And when one person is truly ready to "just be friends," the other isn't quite there yet.  I would love to know how to be friends again with some significant people I have loved in my life, without the past clouding the present.  I wish for so many things.

Moving on.  Getting along.  Acceptance.  I wish it were as simple as that.


Today:

Raspberry Martini

11/2 oz Stoli Razz Vodka
1/2 oz Chambord
1/2 oz Pama liqueur 

Shake and strain into a martini glass

         

30... I Do.

For the past few months I have been mentally preparing for my exit from my twenties.  It's been a strange process of reflecting back on all that had transpired over the past decade.  All I can think of to sum up my twenties is this well known saying: "Life is what happens when you're busy making plans."

And suddenly, with the late June date rapidly approaching, I began to pull at the threads that were seemingly holding my little security blanket together.  One thread at I time. Before too long, I had unwoven a masterfully orchestrated tapestry that had been my life in Nashville.  Let's be clear. I love Nashville and every friendship I have made there. It is a beautiful and comfortable place to live.  It was where I had been living for the past five years. 

I first moved out there as a newlywed.  I had just married someone with whom I had made many plans for our future. We made a little home and a little life, just outside Nashville, TN.  It was a drastic change from the everyday hustle of Hollywood, where we lived before.  And in this quiet, country life, things began to fall apart.  

It doesn't matter why they fell apart. It hasn't mattered for a long time now.  The fact is, that road led me to meet so many amazing people and do so many awesome things. I was afraid of life beyond Nashville for a long time. I had picked up the pieces there and found so much love in so many unexpected places. I realized somewhere along the way that I am much stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. And that part feels good. The rest of it... not so good.  For better or worse, that is part of my story. 

And so, with my thirtieth birthday upon me, I felt a sort of self imposed pressure to step up to the plate. I felt like it was time... or almost time anyway, to make some changes.  It wasn't without many tears shed that I packed everything and left Nashville about seven weeks ago.  And the decision has not been an easy one.  Sometimes I wonder, what the hell I am doing?  

But two weeks ago it was time.  It was the day I had been thinking about since I turned twenty-nine last year.  I am thirty. 

One of the most poetic twists in this story happened to be a certain bottle of champagne that was given to me as a wedding present back in 2008 by my college roommate at Loyola Marymount University.  For the past five years, I have carried this bottle of champagne around.  Initially I had saved it for my fifth wedding anniversary.  So when I wasn't married anymore, I kept hauling around this special gift, hoping for just the right occasion to enjoy it. 

When I found out that my college roommate was going to come visit me on my birthday, I knew there would be nothing more appropriate or poetic than to finally chill that bottle she had given to me as a wedding gift and share it with her.  And that is exactly what we did. The morning  of my thirtieth birthday, I surprised her by presenting to her the bottle of champagne.  I had been waiting for a special occasion and the right person to share it with. It was the kind of poetic justice that I never would have imagined. 

And such is life. Life is poetically unpredictable.  I never would have imagined things to have turned out the way that they did. But when you have moments as sweet and unexpected as these, you have to learn to let go and have a little faith. 

It may not be what I thought it would be. I may not be the way I saw myself at this point in life. But maybe when we imagine things a certain way and want to hold on to those visions too tightly, we limit our sights for possibility. 

So for that, and everything that was, that is and that will be... I say I do. 

Celebrate 30...

Never too old to make a wish.

Today:

Let's celebrate simplicity and have a glass of Champagne.

This is the bottle...

Will always Love Nashville...

Old Fashioned Hopes-Modern Day Dreams

Yesterday, an older couple sat down next to each other on a comfy bench. They were side by side. The gentleman ordered for his wife first, and then for himself.  It happened that both of the drinks they ordered were only offered inside the restaurant at the main bar, not outside on the patio.  They were my last guests of the night, and were so sweet to me that I couldn’t help but want to curl up on the couch with them, so I made an exception.

I presented his wife first with her glass of Cabernet and then to her husband what he had ordered: a rye whiskey Old Fashioned.  

Everyone else on the patio sipped their cocktails from plastic cups with big red straws. The rules outside are pretty strict about not serving glassware on the patio.  But for these two people, I decided to bend the rules a little. Why not? They were the kind of people who probably wouldn’t have noticed or made a big deal if I had served their special drinks in the standard outdoor ware, and for that, I wanted to treat them with even more care. 

The man asked my name right away, and for the remainder of the evening, he would address me by it and thank me by it.  It occurred to me that he was like his drink, old fashioned.

They asked me about my story. Where I was from, why I was living here, working here etc. One detail of my life soon bled into a short synopsis of what had been the past six or seven years, since I graduated from college. 

The woman, who had been elegantly sipping her wine, suddenly perked up when I said that I was hoping to move to New York City come fall. “Well that’s where I am from originally,” she said.  Upon hearing her story, I was surprised to learn that she had been divorced after 29 years of marriage and that the gentleman she was with was her second husband.  They had a modern day love story. She offered me some advice.  “Write down ten things you want in a husband, really think about it, then go live your life. When you meet the one, you’ll know it because he will check off everything on your list.”

So thanks to an old fashioned man and his wife for sharing their modern day love story with me. Here is my list:

1. Humor
2. Integrity
3. Love of Family
4. Good Work Ethic
5. Intelligence
6. Loyal and Trustworthy (Who also trusts me and gives me freedom)
7. Good Lover (let’s be honest)
8. Sobriety/Not an Addict (No drugs. Enjoys some Alcohol, but not to excess.)
9. Spiritual Leader (Not dogmatic or Close minded)
10. Old Fashioned Values (Generosity and strong sense of duty to family)

Only fitting:

Old Fashioned

1 ½ oz Rye Whiskey

Dash of Bitters

Dash of sugar

Slice of Orange

One cherry

Muddle and build on the Rocks.