Category Archives: love

they can’t take that away from me. mostly because i’d sell it to them. or give it away. whatever works.

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When I made the move before I moved to my parents’ home to move to Boston (still with me? Okay!), I held a garage sale with my dearest friend, Catherine, to get rid of (in her case) extra items not needed anymore or items in need of an upgrade and (in my case) everything else.

It was a strange feeling to watch people walk away with little bits of my life, though I tend to be unsentimental about possessions unless they’re heirlooms or gifts from loved ones — and none of that was on the chopping block. I’ve moved enough times to shake off any sort of hoarding impulse about the rest, and getting rid of things was ultimately refreshing… rather than panic-inducing. And I didn’t even HAVE that much stuff.

Catherine, however, had approximately one million paperback novels and 170 pieces of clothing with tags still on it and 29,000 picture frames to say goodbye to. And much more money at the end of the sale.

My friends have suggested that I can be like this because I haven’t yet had a “family home”, at least not one that didn’t involve my parents: prior to the last 11ish months, I’ve been on my own or with roommates that (while they were definitely family, in a sense) were never going to be my life companions. I’m not sure if that’s true, but it’s an interesting idea.

Now, however, I do know who my family is (is going to be — a certain bespectacled dad, and a video game-loving curly-top 12 year old), but the home we’ll share once we’re married is up in the air. We need to find a new place for July when our lease expires and our current 473 square-foot palace is up for renovations, so the dimensions and neighborhood are as yet undecided.

My big hopes for that home are two-fold: I want it to have laundry facilities (ask me how much I like laundry. Answer: A LOT! Ask me how much I like laundromats. Answer: NOT AT ALL ANYMORE!) that I can use without schlepping several blocks with quarters jingling in my pockets, and I want it to be located in a neighborhood where good stuff is within walking distance. This “good stuff” should include things like a grocery store and a decent coffee shop… and maybe even a bakery where I can send Gradon to pick up pastries on Saturday mornings.

Yes, I’d also love more space and lots of light and hardwood floors and a gas stove and a (clawfoot!) bathtub, but hey — I lived in a place where my bathroom was outside of my actual suite once (why yes, I did lock myself out of my apartment while wearing just a towel, thank you for asking), and I’m used to small and cheerful.

I AM small and cheerful, dammit.

But when we officially set up “our” first place together, will I suddenly become possession-happy? Will I start accumulating things that I will challenge people to pry out of my cold dead hands? Will I become the kind of girl who nitpicks her surroundings… right down to the length of the stems in the fresh flowers I’ll insist on in every room? Will I weep at the things people don’t choose from my wedding registries?

I don’t know. I think I’m more laid back than that, and regardless, I’m confident that a lot of design and furnishing decisions will be ones my future husband makes. He has fantastic taste (I do, too — or so I think — but he’s given it more thought) and some pretty fierce opinions about how his ideal surroundings should look, and I’m inclined to follow his lead.

On the other hand, he — like me — has done his share of moving and making do with the imperfect, so perhaps we’ll both be laid back. On the other other hand (I know that’s not actually an expression), he’s been dragging around a Rubbermaid bin of CDs and another of board games and (formerly) another one full of trading cards (thanks for taking them off our hands, Jeff. Sorry about that, Gretchen) so perhaps he’s going to become a full blown acquirer and hoarder.

Right now, though, deep down, I can honestly say I’m not fussed about having the perfect television mounted on the wall (the 12 year old, however… ) or six sets of dishes (like my mom — or is it more?) or carefully chosen throw pillows or a full set of hardcore gourmet knives (okay, I may be fussed about that.)

I’m just excited for OUR place, and OUR life.

But I’m curious:

What about your home makes it home for you? Are there particular items or comforts you need in place?

Are you an acquirer or an aesthete?

Do you tend to be picky about your surroundings? I don’t mean cleanliness (I’m picky that way) or temperature (I’m REALLY picky that way… I hate “hot” houses), but how things are set up, and colors and textures, etc.

Could you sell everything you had to follow a dream (it’s actually magical to say I know my answer to that question)?

I’d love to hear what you think.

seemed like as good a time as any for an FAQ.

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1. How did you and Gradon meet?

Well, technically, like this. On Twitter, via our blogs. Apparently he liked mine. Then I clicked through to his, and lo… he was cute. We talked back and forth from Vancouver (me) to Boston (he) for months and months, via Twitter Direct Message, via Gmail chat, via email, via Skype, via iChat, and via phone. In the process, we got pretty attached to one another, and even managed to put together our first event for SM4SC with our dear friend Matt… the impetus for my first trip to Boston. Once we met? Done deal.

Did we intend to find someone to date on Twitter? Nope. Would anyone in their right mind choose someone 3,000 miles away to meet on Twitter? Nope. Was the process bump-free? Nope. Will we ever get back all the money we spent on long distance bills and plane tickets? Nope.

Any regrets? Nope.

2. Wow… so you met on Twitter. Is that unusual?

No, not really, although I guess the long distance nature of our relationship, and the fact that we were on Twitter before that darned Oprah and Ashton Kutcher probably makes it more interesting. We’ve actually been in a few newspapers and on a couple of radio shows to talk about it.

Now, of course, there are entire businesses dedicated to setting people up on Twitter and other social networks, and couples and friendships galore have sprung up from just 140 characters. This trend has also led to the creation of the word, “tweethearts.”

I guess that’s us… though I prefer “twilationship.” I’m kidding.

3. So when did you move to Boston? And why didn’t he move to Vancouver?

I moved to Boston on April 29th, 2010, after taking a position at Sametz Blackstone Associates. That’s a story I won’t be telling here, since it involves governments and paperwork. But I love the folks at Sametz Blackstone — and you should work with us!

Gradon didn’t move to Vancouver because he has a fantastic (now 12 year-old) son close to Boston that he shares custody of. A fantastic son who will be my stepson one day! Which is beyond awesome, let me tell you.

I’m not able to have children of my own due to an autoimmune disorder — a reality I became aware of just a few years ago, and something I’ve struggled with ever since. And the rules and costs and roadblocks involved in adoption are somewhat blinding…. especially for people who come from two different countries.

Which is why the blessing of this hilarious, brilliant, kind child coming into my life? I really can’t explain how big that is. I won’t even try.

4. Wow — so you moved 3,000 miles. How has that been?

I would call this move, and the adjustment to a new community that followed, one of the best and most difficult things I’ve experienced. There are some great folks here, and I’ve made some wonderful friends (including people I work with each day) who bring a lot of joy into my life.

Of course, it takes time for acquaintances to become real pals, and time to learn the social landscape of any new place. The things my friends at home know and accept and love about me aren’t necessarily the things that people see in me here, and I’ve had my moments of being confused, and feeling lonely. I miss my family terribly, too.

I also have a habit of isolating myself when I’m stressed out (I don’t barricade myself in a restroom or anything), which I know has led to some of those relationships developing a bit more slowly. And of course, there’s very little that’s unconditional about brand new friendships, so I’m sure I’ve mucked up a few potential bonds just by being my own, flawed, imperfect self. Heh.

But people have been moving to unfamiliar places to follow love, work, duty, or wanderlust since time began. There’s nothing special about this leap in the grand scheme of things… except to us.

I’m more in love than the day I first arrived here.

5. Do you like Boston?

I do! It’s a gorgeous place, really, and has far more historical significance than anywhere else I’ve lived. The shopping and restaurants are lovely, although the prices are similarly hefty to Vancouver.

And speaking of hefty prices, HEY REAL ESTATE, YOU COST A LOT HERE. My apartment is half the size of the one I had in Canada, and and the rent is about 50% more.

Any other drawbacks? Well, aside from pricey rents, the antique transit system is kind of horrifyingly erratic and slow, which means that my commute of less than ten miles can sometimes take longer than an hour. Yoinks. Also? No good sushi. Really. None. Anyone who tells you Boston has good sushi has never had sushi in Vancouver.

Any other benefits? Well, I like having four whole seasons, even if the summer was record-breakingly hot and humid, and this winter has brought (you guessed it!) record-breaking snowfalls.

It has been fun to get to know the city through Gradon’s eyes, too — he’s definitely a Bostonian at heart.

6. When are you guys going to make it official?

Well, funny you should mention that, because Gradon proposed to me on Sunday, February 20th, 2011, exactly 3 years to the day after the tweet I mentioned up there. What’s hilarious is that I’d thought the day before was the 20th, so I’d been all smiley about the three year anniversary of that tweet on the 19th. I only realized later, after he proposed, that he’d hit the date dead on.

And lest you think Gradon was more on the ball, he’d meant to ask me the NEXT day, on the 21st, on a drive we’d planned to make to Cape Cod. Isn’t that romantic?

Instead, he proposed to me in the kitchen, with French onion soup bubbling on the stove, on bended knee, while I was wearing zero makeup and some lovely sweatpants (hence why I look monstrous in the photo up there), after we’d made up from an argument. An argument with yelling!

No, he didn’t propose to end the argument (although that would have been a hell of a “nuclear option”, don’t you think?)

We were laughing and back to normal when he asked. But perhaps the recent past made that moment seem like just the right time to recognize the strength of our love to carry us through anything and everything — to put the ultimate vote of confidence in “we”.

Or maybe he just got impatient.

Do I wish there had been more pomp and circumstance? No way. We actually re-enacted the whole thing on frosty Sandy Neck Beach at Barnstable the next day (to applause from passers-by), but the moment we had in our kitchen was perfect just as it was.

He proposed with my late grandma’s ring, which I’ll wear throughout our engagement as a way of having my family close to us during this amazing time. I’d actually planned to wear it always, but the jeweler Gradon consulted said we couldn’t put a larger stone in the setting (my grandfather was practically a kid when he bought it for her, and a hard-working one at that, so the stone reflects a young man’s budget), and that the ring itself was somewhat weakened by time.

(By the way: would I have cared that the stone was tiny? Nope. But Gradon wanted a way to make it his own, and so he’ll get me a ring of my own — but nothing TOO fancy. I don’t judge anyone who wants a giant sparkler, or has a giant sparkler, but I just can’t justify something like that when there are braces, cars, college educations, and houses, etc. to pay for in the present, and in the near future. Whatever I end up with will be perfect.)

So my wedding day will bring both another engagement ring and a wedding band — but for now, Nonna’s ring is the only one I want on my finger.

Actually, when we called to tell my parents, they were in the midst of celebrating my aunt and uncle’s 40th wedding anniversary at a big family party. A week after celebrating their own 41st wedding anniversary, mind you. And my dad’s phone rang with my big news just a couple of minutes before the whole family was due to watch the 50th wedding anniversary video of my late grandparents — the marriage that was joined by the ring I’m wearing now. I had no idea the whole thing was going on, but my mom announced our news to much applause and perhaps a few tears.

I think the timing kinda worked out nicely, don’t you?

I think the marriage will, too.

36 at 36.

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If you know me — or even just my blog — at all, you know I am a lover of lists.

Love lists, grocery lists, to-do lists (although those can drive me up the proverbial wall at times), Christmas lists… heck, even lists of words I really like (bliss, pomegranate, obsidian…)

But the kinds of lists I am NOT a fan of are the lists that isolate the “30 under 30″ or “40 under 40″ in any sort of industry. Not because I am no longer under 30 (sigh), and very much on the downward slope towards no longer being under 40 (nooooooo!), but because people seem to develop a profound sort of anxiety around them.

Not me, mind you.

I never really thought about competing with 29 or 39 other people to be considered super awesome at anything that I do — I mean, what the heck are the standards?

The amount of money I’ve made?

I think we can all look at the exceptionally profitable career of Justin Bieber and agree that recompense doesn’t equal excellence. Unless we’re chatting about autotunability (which isn’t a word yet, but give it time) — and then he’s AMAZING.

The quality of the work I’ve done?

To continue on a theme, when one checks out out the full range of reality programs currently viewable at MTV, it quickly becomes obvious that the “quality” of things isn’t really what sells them. Sure, MTV programmers display exceptional excellence at targeting their demographic, (which is really their only metric, mind you)… but if you’ve ever watched “My Super Sweet 16″ or whatever the hell it’s called, you know it’s not because the programming is excellent that it does the job.

The position I’ve achieved in a company?

Okay, who is honestly delusional enough to think that being in leadership in a company means you’re the best worker/smartest person in that company? Not everybody at the top is Steve Jobs, people. And there are plenty of people arguing about him, too (not me, though. I have been known to go into the Apple store just to hug things.)

The amount of “giving back” I’ve done for the community?

Well, I actually kind of like this one as a gauge of success (although “giving back” always sounds a bit preposterous, like you stole from the community in the first place) — but anyone who watched the 2010 version of “We Are The World” (Justin Bieber starts it off with TRUE autotunability) knows that sometimes giving back is way more about profile than progress (and, in that specific case, autotunability. I’ll keep using that word until it sticks, I swear I will.)

The amount of people who know who I am?

I have to point to how many people who know who the Octo-Mom is. And leave it there, pretty much.

Why do we need someone else to give us the nod, anyway?

So we’ll be able to put it on our resume? So we’ll get better jobs in the future? So we can impress our dates?

Strikes me that most of the people I know who actively strive for these types of recognition live their lives in a constant state of grasping for the next thing — without ever enjoying the moment they’re in, or learning what they can from the struggles and challenges they’ve faced along the way.

Spending time with these people is like trying to talk to a toddler in the toy aisle at Target. Only two thoughts prevail: “Oooh, how can I get that thing over there?” and “Ooooh, what role will you play in me getting that thing over there?”

It’s good to have goals. It’s good to be successful. It’s good to strive in a direction. GOOD.

But when your yardstick for achievement is to appear on a list populated by publicists, social climbers and people who would literally sell their grandmother to squeak in at #29, you may need a reminder about what really matters in life.

So, in celebration of what REALLY matters, I thought I’d name 36 things I think are awesome at 36, from people to flavors of ice cream. This list could change tomorrow — likely to include more awesomeness, because WHY KEEP OUT THE AWESOME?

(And no, these things aren’t in order. Stop being so rigid! Unless you are a steel girder, and then I think you’re just doing your thing.)

36. Rhubarb sorbet: My friend Ron made it for us as a “palate cleanser” the first time I had it… and let me tell you, my palate was rhubarb fresh! I’ve loved it ever since. Also, I’ve tried cleansing my palate with other things (wire brushes, Pine Sol, Clearasil pads) and nothing else was quite so effective. Or non-toxic.

35. Al Green: I can’t hear “Love and Happiness” or “Let’s Stay Together” without grinning my face off.

34. Candlelight: A worthy inclusion on any awesome list. Not only do candles smell great when they burn, they cast a golden, forgiving light on all the faces nearby. And trust me, at 36, I am ALL ABOUT a forgiving light.

33. Cool breezes: Whether I experience them in a car, at my desk at work, or standing by a lovely, wavy ocean, I do most definitely adore a cool breeze. Especially since I’ve been in the midst of a Heatpocalypse in Boston since, oh, June.

32. Freckles: I love my freckly arms and face. Connect the dots to make your very own Meg!

31. Espresso: Come on now. I forced myself to put it this far back in the list to distract from my addiction issue BUT NO ONE IS FOOLED.

30. Giant handbags: Yes, I realize that there’s annoying trend of waifish young women in leggings and drape-y tops carrying things that look like hockey bags, except made from red leather and studs stolen from Michael Jackson’s “Bad”-era jacket, but a) I am not waifish b) I HAVE A LOT OF STUFF TO CARRY AROUND. Which brings me to…

29. Lip gloss: I have more shades of lip gloss than I own pairs of shoes. Which is fitting, since I often walk on my lips. Wait, what?

28. Goldfish: I adore both the little cheese crackers and the little orange guys who swim in bowls (who may also be cheese-flavored, but I think finding out would be super awkward.)

27. Tank tops: As someone who is perpetually overheated, I enjoy a good sleeveless garment. Granted, my arms are not exactly toned, per se (unless you consider pillows as prime examples of “buffness”… really, it’s more “puffness”) but I give great hugs and WHY LET FABRIC COME BETWEEN US?

26. Monkeys: Monkeys come up a lot in conversation for me, whether I am using my favorite exclamation (“Sweet monkeys of doom!”) or expressing incredulity (“Schwaaaa, and monkeys might fly out of my butt!” Actually, I don’t say that second one. I find it annoying when people say that second one. But I still love monkeys. Especially curious ones, and the 100 monkeys with the typewriters who work on MTV show scripts.)

25. Boys in glasses: I’m thinking more of glasses in the horn-rim Superman sense than the Kanye West “stunna” shades sense. I think anyone who wears sunglasses that look like they have built-in mini-blinds should be forced to hand-dust all the mini-blinds at a Sheraton. I don’t care which Sheraton, but I want that dust GONE!

24. Hoop earrings: Everyone looks good in them. They suit most outfits. Pirates like them! Anyone who doesn’t like hoop earrings should walk the plank.

23. Miles Davis: No music allows me to disappear into happy quite as quickly.

22. Tiny birds: I love the wee birds that hang out on coffee shop patios, going bananas over a muffin crumb. They are the living embodiment of the famous adage, “it’s the little things that matter.” Also the less famous adage, “muffin crumbs are the shit!”

21: Laughing aloud at your desk: Because I just did!

20: Grace: I don’t mean physically speaking, because I’VE NEVER EXPERIENCED THAT, but emotionally speaking. I love it when people give other people room to be imperfect, and love them anyway. It’s not a quality that we should abuse in our friends, but a strong grasp of grace is something that makes people really wonderful to know.

19. People who smile big in photos: I have long been known for not showing my teeth in photos, because I don’t like my teeth. They won’t show up on this list, that’s for sure. Unless, that is, they start making in excess of $200,000 per year or are chosen to manage a hedge fund or start an organization to reclaim city parks. Hang on, my mind just wandered. But smiles! That are big! Are good!

18. Trees: Fun to look at, fun to stand under, fun to swing below on an old tire, fun to pick fruit from, fun to climb… thanks, trees!

17. Water: What else can you both swim in, clean yourself up in AND drink down to the last drop? And don’t say coffee, because that’s only true on Mondays.

16. My friend, Cat: My best friend, in fact. True love.

15. Anthropologie: It’s like someone took a bunch of stuff they thought was pretty, and made a store out of it. And then I found it, and I agreed all the stuff was pretty! And then they took all my money. Uh oh.

14. The Oregon Coast: I haven’t been there since 2007, but when I did go, there were big waves, long beaches and tiny bunnies. Also a killer hot dog, but why dwell on the negative?

13. Sushi: Despite my reluctance to try eating a goldfish, I do love raw fish prepared with sharp knives. Especially with LOTS of wasabi. And by LOTS I mean that, if I’m not crying by the end of the meal, I’ve pansied right out.

12. Photos taken from above: I’m thinking that I should hire the people who take aerial shots of disasters to take photos of me — not because I am a disaster, but because they would totally avoid shooting my double chin.

11. Magazines: I love magazines. I feel better when surrounded by stacks of glossies. More in the Barnes & Noble way than the Hoarders way, mind you. Although I may be on the “lip gloss” edition of that show before long.

10: Cooking: Inventing recipes has become a hobby of mine. Except that I forget to write them down, so it’s not really like I invented anything. Imagine if Edison didn’t write down the whole light bulb thing! We’d all be sitting in the dark! Or in candlelight… which wouldn’t be bad. So maybe I’m doing the right thing?

9. Air conditioning: I didn’t know I loved A/C until I moved to Boston and found myself spending days in what feels like the inside of a Tupperware… a Tupperware full of pudding… a Tupperware full of pudding, left in the sun. But I love it. A lot. Not big on pudding, though.

8. Bravo TV: It’s SHAMEFUL. I know it is. I do. But as long as I can drag OTHERS into my SHAME (Gradon, I’m looking at you!) I feel more like I’m part of a shared experience than the Decline of Western Civilization.

7. The Ocean: Beaches! Blue! Waves! Salt! Floating! YES!

6. Giant cocktail rings: I have quite small hands, so I enjoy the way a large ring seems to give my digits a little more presence. Granted, it can be hard to type or hold hands with certain rings on, but I’m willing to forgo writing and a healthy relationship for a great ring! *cough*

5. My mom and dad: They’re awesome. I miss them. I won’t even try and joke about this. Okay, maybe I will: “An artist and a minister walk into a bar. The bartender looks at them and says, ‘Why the long face?’” Wait, I’m already confused.

4. My job: I work with wonderful people in a wonderful place with a wonderful view and there is a wonderful bakery a block away that will be the wonderful death of me when I explode from eating TOO MANY MUFFINS! But little birds everywhere will be very excited about the debris left over.

3. Gradon’s kids: No one has ever cared quite as much about me seeing all their important video game moments. And while that sounds like something I wouldn’t be into? It would seem that I am.

2. Gradon: I love you, buddy.

1. YOU! Yes, you. Who read all the way through this. You deserve to be on a list. So enjoy it! You can put this on your resume, even!

Or don’t. Maybe just enjoy it privately. But not in a creepy, “behind the curtain in a video store” kind of way.