I'm really bad at blogging. I say this because I keep forgetting to blog. I'm not bad at writing a blog, just bad at blogging itself.
It's not as if I don't have anything to blog about. In fact, I have plenty to blog about. Everyone has plenty to blog about. It's just remembering to do it is all.
So here I am, remembering to blog. Thank you for the encouragement/reminder, Ashley.
Several things have happened in the last few days, and some good things are coming up in the next few. Allow me to tell you just a few of those things:
1. My parents came to Boston this past weekend and stayed with me. It was really nice. Plenty of good weather/ long-batallion-death-march-esque walks (I'm, as usual, being dramatic. They were very nice, long, walks)/food/ failed homemade Nutella/ eating lobster quite un-like a lady/ Bananagrams to make the weekend quite enjoyable. Dad hates the city, Ithink know. He's a pretty good sport about it, though.
Having my parents around reminds me of how much I've changed since I last lived at home-- for the better, and for the worse. I've grown up/matured, etc. etc. yadda, yadda-- all the positive things one normally does when going off to school eight hours from home, then moving to a city in a different state. But, having the most honest good-hearted-ness (is that even a word?) of my Dad and the calm, patience and kindness of my Mom around makes me notice that I rush more and judge more and become impatient more than I ever did...
Mom, if you're reading this... thank you for being the calm during my frustration and frenzy of trying to make Sunday brunch. Thanks for also secretly having Dad and Alan buy Nutella when mine failed and I wanted to cry.
Dad, if you're reading this... thank you for being such a good person (always) and wanting to pay for the train rides after you and mom snuck on (and for trying to pay again when you were leaving for the airport, even though I rushed you onto the train). I promise I will make good by your fare evasion :-)
Wait. When did this blog become so serious? When did I become so serious?? (I'm assuming roughly around the same time I started listening to NPR and wearing skirts to work and paying too much in rent).
2. I'm sleeping outside in a tent this weekend-- "Back in the 'Dacks" as I've recently started calling it. Three splendid days of dirt, tents, canoes, no running water/electricity/cell phone service, possible bears and/or moose (meese?) sightings, s'mores (obviously), campfire smell on my clothes, best friends, hiking, and backpacks. It's exactly what I need.
I need a black-sky-and-blanket-of-stars over my head at night. I need to look out and not see another human/brick/car/street sign. I need to breathe in and not choke on the diesel of a truck that just cut me off as I crossed the street. I need only see rolling mountains and trees and friends, and I need only breathe air that smells like nothing and fresh at the same time, and I need only eat steak/s'mores/freshly caught fish right off the fire.
I think I'm almost nearing my fill of city-living. I'll be here a few more years, sure. But I won't be here forever (pretty sure I'm not meeting my millionaire-farmer-husband at Neiman Marcus anytime soon), and so eventually I will move. Hopefully, it's Back to the 'Dacks. But even if it's not, even if I fall and hit my head and decide to never leave, the Adirondacks will always hold the most special of places in my heart. I'll be back as often as I can.
3. I read a weird article the other day about an Egyptian man who came back to life at his own funeral (true story). Freaky stuff. It made me think back to the time that I wrote out a living will for my mom to hold onto. In it, I wrote that someone needs to make sure I'm 100%, totally and completely dead before burying me. This is why. Being pronounced dead and then waking up at your own funeral is why. Ugh. Gives me the heeby-geebies. I also wrote that I want to be wrapped in cheesecloth before being buried, and that I want a tree planted over me. This is still the case.
That's all, thanks for reading!
It's not as if I don't have anything to blog about. In fact, I have plenty to blog about. Everyone has plenty to blog about. It's just remembering to do it is all.
So here I am, remembering to blog. Thank you for the encouragement/reminder, Ashley.
Several things have happened in the last few days, and some good things are coming up in the next few. Allow me to tell you just a few of those things:
1. My parents came to Boston this past weekend and stayed with me. It was really nice. Plenty of good weather/ long-batallion-death-march-esque walks (I'm, as usual, being dramatic. They were very nice, long, walks)/food/ failed homemade Nutella/ eating lobster quite un-like a lady/ Bananagrams to make the weekend quite enjoyable. Dad hates the city, I
Having my parents around reminds me of how much I've changed since I last lived at home-- for the better, and for the worse. I've grown up/matured, etc. etc. yadda, yadda-- all the positive things one normally does when going off to school eight hours from home, then moving to a city in a different state. But, having the most honest good-hearted-ness (is that even a word?) of my Dad and the calm, patience and kindness of my Mom around makes me notice that I rush more and judge more and become impatient more than I ever did...
Mom, if you're reading this... thank you for being the calm during my frustration and frenzy of trying to make Sunday brunch. Thanks for also secretly having Dad and Alan buy Nutella when mine failed and I wanted to cry.
Dad, if you're reading this... thank you for being such a good person (always) and wanting to pay for the train rides after you and mom snuck on (and for trying to pay again when you were leaving for the airport, even though I rushed you onto the train). I promise I will make good by your fare evasion :-)
Wait. When did this blog become so serious? When did I become so serious?? (I'm assuming roughly around the same time I started listening to NPR and wearing skirts to work and paying too much in rent).
2. I'm sleeping outside in a tent this weekend-- "Back in the 'Dacks" as I've recently started calling it. Three splendid days of dirt, tents, canoes, no running water/electricity/cell phone service, possible bears and/or moose (meese?) sightings, s'mores (obviously), campfire smell on my clothes, best friends, hiking, and backpacks. It's exactly what I need.
I need a black-sky-and-blanket-of-stars over my head at night. I need to look out and not see another human/brick/car/street sign. I need to breathe in and not choke on the diesel of a truck that just cut me off as I crossed the street. I need only see rolling mountains and trees and friends, and I need only breathe air that smells like nothing and fresh at the same time, and I need only eat steak/s'mores/freshly caught fish right off the fire.
I think I'm almost nearing my fill of city-living. I'll be here a few more years, sure. But I won't be here forever (pretty sure I'm not meeting my millionaire-farmer-husband at Neiman Marcus anytime soon), and so eventually I will move. Hopefully, it's Back to the 'Dacks. But even if it's not, even if I fall and hit my head and decide to never leave, the Adirondacks will always hold the most special of places in my heart. I'll be back as often as I can.
3. I read a weird article the other day about an Egyptian man who came back to life at his own funeral (true story). Freaky stuff. It made me think back to the time that I wrote out a living will for my mom to hold onto. In it, I wrote that someone needs to make sure I'm 100%, totally and completely dead before burying me. This is why. Being pronounced dead and then waking up at your own funeral is why. Ugh. Gives me the heeby-geebies. I also wrote that I want to be wrapped in cheesecloth before being buried, and that I want a tree planted over me. This is still the case.
That's all, thanks for reading!
love you!!
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