Turducken! At Last!

I should be packing, so naturally I am occupying my time doing other things like composing handwritten letters, paying bills, and blogging. In my defense I have already packed twelve boxes tonight (yes most of them are wine boxes, and most of them are filled with books, but twelve boxes is twelve boxes).

On the bright side, I am feeling rather inspired to write, which is any case cannot be considered a bad thing, even if it is keeping me from doing something productive like packing up my life.

But I’ve been feeling rather guilty lately, because I have yet to blog about the Turducken adventure of 2009. I really meant to do it the week after I got home, and then, per usual, life just kept happening. Friends were in town, work got busy, I found other inspiration, and other distractions, and I didn’t have all the pictures, and so the Turducken got swept under the rug. Out of sight, but not out of mind for me, and so here I am a month later, finally ready to write about the poultry palooza that was my Christmas.

It all started out as kind of a joke. Turducken. I was giving my friend/ brother-in-law by marriage a bad time about batching it alone on Thanksgiving, and I told him that he should make a turducken. I mean it is sort of like the ultimate man meal, meat inside of meat, inside of meat. We both sort of laughed it off, but agreed that it sounded delicious. And then I got to thinking “how hard could it really be?”

I’m slightly appalled that I even came up with the idea of making a turducken. Though I am not a vegetarian, I don’t actually cook or even eat that much meat. I have several friends of the Vegetarian/vegan persuasion, and so when we all get together for dinner parties, meat it usually optional. BYOB, and BYOM. So there I was, the girl who is totally grossed out by raw chicken, and paranoid about contracting salmonella, contemplating making the ultimate poultry dish. This was much more than a raw chicken breast. Three whole birds, what the hell was I thinking?

As the days went on, I felt as though I was being taunted by the idea of turducken. Suddenly it was everywhere, on radio shows, the food network, references to turducken were everywhere from NPR to Top Chef, and I began to wonder if it was a sign that I should be paying attention to. So on a whim, I asked my sister-in-law how her family would feel if I made a turducken for Christmas dinner. I mean, it was already going to be a year of new traditions, as I was spending the holiday with my brother’s in-laws rather than my immediate family, so why not try something completely new? So I got the approval (though I am still sort of wondering if everyone thought I was kidding) and started researching recipes.

At first I was contemplating how long it was going to take to de-bone three birds. At some point it dawned on me, that I am extremely accident prone, and considering my luck in 2009, I decided that de-boning 3 birds was just a trip to the ER on Christmas morning waiting to happen. So though, it may be considered cheating, I simply asked the butcher to de-bone the birds for me. A little batting of the eyelashes, and I had myself a de-boned duck and chicken ready for me to pick up. There was no going back, the birds were ordered, and we were committed to making this “Cluster-Cluck.”

Flash forward to Christmas morning, 6:45 AM AKA Turducken time. I have never been a morning person, let alone a morning person who assembles poultry before coffee, but I was on Christmas. Nothing says Christmas like holiday PJ’s, reindeer antlers, and raw chicken. (clearly I was not thinking about having a blog worthy photo-op.) The process actually went a lot quicker than I thought it would, in mere moments the birds were cut, seasoned, stacked and ready for stitching. I’m not going to lie, I pretty much took a back seat on the assembly process. I scooped stuffing in between the layers, and watched the madness taking place, and was then the head seamstress when it was time put everything back together.

 

 

 

 

When we were done, I was shocked and amazed that it actually looked like a normal turkey! Against all odds, we didn’t manage to fuck it up, and considering the two masterminds behind the project, I think we were all a little amazed. As far as flavoring goes, we improvised a little. Butter, garlic, rosemary, beer, salt, pepper, other various spices. The trifecta of birds went in the oven at 7:45. Christmas continued as normal. Presents, cocktails , coffee, copious amounts of Rockband, and turducken anticipation. Waiting, hoping, praying that the turducken would actually get up to temp (at least 165, but preferably 180) in time for afternoon eating. It actually cooks at a fairly decent speed, I think mainly because most of the bones are removed. Of course you leave in the wings and drumsticks on the turkey to keep up appearances. We could have opted for the “log” version, where you basically make a roast out of the birds, but damn it, as my first turducken attempt I at least wanted it to be pretty. And it was!

 

 

Complete success! Though we had a few fuddy-duddy’s who claimed that they couldn’t really tell a difference between a turducken and normal turkey, a majority of us were thrilled with the taste, and overall experience. I’m not sure if it will be a new tradition in the Brisbin/Nooy family, but I think it will give us something to live up to each year.

It's all just a little bit of history repeating

This week had been the kind of week that makes me wish I knew how to juggle in real life. Maybe if my hand/eye coordination were a little bit better, I’d have the skills to balance out everything else, always keeping one flaming torch, or razor sharp knife, or more realistically a bean sack or piece of fruit in the air.  Let’s be honest, I might have some talents, but keeping things up in the air isn’t one of them… but I’m optimistic that even though I might not possess the coordination to literally juggle, that I can somehow keep all the different aspects of my life up in the air and off the floor. It might not be graceful and effortless, in fact, it might be downright spastic, but at least I’m trying.

Yes, I like to be busy, yes I like to procrastinate, and yes I work really well under pressure and deadlines. Just because all of the above are true, doesn’t necessarily mean that I was thrilled to get an eviction notice last week. As if I wasn’t questioning my karmic timing before… how is it that I am having to find an apartment, pack up and move all within the same timeline that I am coordinating two separate volunteer writing events, shifted job responsibilities, anxiously awaiting to hear anything from graduate schools, and going on vacation? All winter I have been looking forward to February. Four days of vacation with my best friends on the East Coast, Paper Gardens deadline, New work schedule, Getting my taxes done, these were all things I was planning for. And now throw in the scrambling that comes with a move, the excess meetings (for both work, and volunteer projects), attempting to keep some semblance of a social life, re-budgeting the next six months, the business is suddenly chaos. Don’t get me wrong, it’s the good sort of chaos (mostly) but keep in mind that I am writing this before I have even packed one box.

Four months ago when I first contemplated moving into this apartment, I was able to justify it because I knew my quality of life would be better. I was thinking ahead to February, and envisioning the stacks of Paper Gardens entries, and organized piles of grad school stuff, work projects, and the mountains of laundry that seem to accumulate with no notice, and I knew that even though the apartment was more expensive, it would be worth every penny. So moving was a hassle, but it was only next door, there was no maneuvering the stairs, no renting a truck, no real packing involved, just transferring my life next door. I was willing to undertake the hassle, because I figured I would be living here until I went to graduate school…knowing that even if that wasn’t this fall, I would be living in my dream apartment for another year. So I settled, and decorated, nested even, spread out. And now I’m getting ready to pack everything up, and change my address (before I hear from any of the programs I applied to) and make a move that may or may not be just a six month fix before I head off to the next great adventure. 

Of course I deal with all the stress of the unknown, by reaching out for something familiar and comfortable…. Which in my case is always a bad choice, because more or less that usually ends up being an ex-boyfriend. Why do I do this? I am a fairly sane person, I know in my head, it’s a bad idea, and that nothing good can come from it, and yet I have found myself on more than one occasion sitting next to an ex, watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, thinking about how a little cuddling etc. would make life so much more tolerable. Firstly, it should be a red flag that this has happened more than once (change the starring roles, and location, add or subtract a glass of wine, but literally the same situation down to the movie).

So there’s the cliché saying that history repeats itself. (It is also a sorta catchy song by the Propellerheads which will now be stuck in my head for days…) And in my case, this always seems to involve ex-loves and Indiana Jones… I don’t know how it happens. I didn’t actually realize my déjà vous moment until this week I found myself sitting on my couch, glass of wine in hand, and it’s the scene where they have just escaped the tomb with all the snakes, and they are trying to stop the Nazi’s from flying the Ark out of Egypt. There is the fight scene & Marion almost gets blown up, and it is probably actually the least romantic scene in the entire movie (maybe minus the face melting one). I don’t know what it is about this part of the movie, but it totally triggers something in me. Fight or flight kicks in. Maybe because it is like the point of no return in the movie, there isn’t a lot of film left, so if I move is to be made, it’s the now or never moment?

In theory, I love change, crave it, embrace it, and accept it. So why is it that when life gets a little bit chaotic and stressful, that I seem to run in the opposite direction. Reject the change, reject the new, and settle on the old and familiar? I guess it’s the same reason why we eat comfort food rather than trying new recipes, but still I wish I didn’t have this reflex. I take a situation that is already complicated, and in an effort to satiate the daily chaos, add a dose of awkwardness, and almost screw up a friendship in the process. I’m already juggling the moving, the work, the volunteering, the vacation, the grad school angst, and then add a dose of awkward to the mix. I mean, yes, I am looking for a distraction, but I should still know better… As if the juggling wasn’t already a little overwhelming… Thankfully at least one of us was thinking clearly.

Maybe next time my life gets chaotic I’ll at least recognize the pattern, and try to go on vacation before opening up a bottle of fine wine and putting Indiana Jones in the DVD player.

From A to B to C (C being the unknown)

Let me start out by saying that I love my apartment. Yes, I have lived through leaky roofs, mice infestations, multiple parking violations, potential mold issues, poor insulation, a finicky fire alarm, a possible ghosts, plumbing issues, and even a slashed tire. There is no fire-escape (to my knowledge) and it is incredibly loud, so much to the point where people can be having a normal conversation across the street and it sounds like they are sitting next to me on my couch. And yet, with all its flaws, I can safely say that this is my dream apartment.

Perhaps it started out with a somewhat whimsical idea of what I thought my “first post-college apartment” was supposed to be like. Small, charming, decorated with a smattering of mis-matched furniture, and inherited hand-me down items. I remember once, while still in school, shopping at the Farmer’s Market, directly below my current apartment, and looking up to see a couple making out in the window. I felt a little odd for having stumbled across such a personal moment, but I couldn’t help but think how absolutely delicious it would be to be in my twenty’s living a similar life in that exact spot.

The Farmers Market from Apt A

So years later here I am, decorated, settled, embracing the dream…. That is until yesterday, when I found out that the owners of the building are “going in a new direction” AKA I have to leave.

When I first moved into the building, I was not nearly as enchanted. Well, ok that is a lie, I was enchanted with the building, its history, its location (its all about location, location, location) but I was in the small apartment next door.( This apartment is what I call an afterthought…. It wasn’t meant to be lived in Perhaps it was once an office…. )The kitchenette is about a square foot, all the appliances are half the size they should be, and the bathroom, well the bathroom you can hardly turn around it. And yet I loved it. I loved coming home on Thursday evenings and listening to the bustling sounds of the Farmer’s Market. I loved the random street noises, I loved how there was barely enough room for me and my furniture, but I made it work. And I was happy.

Apt A, Pre-move in.... look at the potential

 The mini-Kitchen

All Moved In

 

Post Roof Leak redecorating

A few short months ago, I was ecstatic when I discovered that my next door neighbor had decided to move out. Apparently there is a trend in this building. The tenant in Apartment A (the little afterthought) waits in anticipation until the tenant in Apartment B decides to move on to bigger and better things. Tenant A then swoops in, moves things down the hall in a whirlwind of boxes and excitement, and absolutely relishes the simple delights of once again having a garbage disposal.

Compared to Apartment A, B is like a palace. Firstly, the kitchen is its own room, has endless storage, counter space, dishwasher, garbage disposal, full sized fridge and stove, vaulted ceilings, a skylight, and is painted an ideal color of yellow. You walk in, and it’s warm and charming, and homey, and there is actually room for the dining room table (and you can still open all your cabinets!) Gasp, there is even a full sized pantry, big enough for a 40 bottle wine rack! Then step into the living room, where there are two windows! The couch actually fits in the corner, and there is room for the bookshelves and ottoman, knitting baskets etc. There is a coat closet (or in my case shoe closet). To be fair, the bedroom is six inches smaller in Apartment B, but this is made up for by the bigger closet, and bathroom which is literally two times bigger than the one in Apartment A. Ok, so the toilet flushes by itself. Does it really matter when you have two medicine chests and a claw-foot tub?

The Kitchen

 

 Looking Out my Window

Happy Kitchen Plants

 

Archway

Living Room

I’ve been living here, in my personal apartment heaven for three blissful months, contemplating the dinner parties I will have, eagerly looking forward to installing window boxes full of herbs, and in general thinking about how thrilled I am to be here. And now it is all coming to an end. Goodbye yellow kitchen, goodbye, spacious living room, goodbye ideal location.

When it comes down to it, I know I could be living in a larger space for the same amount of money…. But I’m not paying for the space; I’m paying for the experience. Living right down town, in a historic building where each apartment has its own little quirks. I love the old brick in the hallway, and the dark wood trim, the high ceilings and the old feel of the building. I love the character of my apartment, the life that it has taken on, not to mention the location.

I could write for hours about why Cowls street is the most ideal location for a twenty-something year old gal. (Or really anyone for that matter) But for brevity sake, I will simply list some of my favorite features within a four block radius.

Within one block of my front door I can find almost anything that I would ever need in life.

There is:

·         A seasonal Farmer’s Market

·         Locally owned grocery store (which keeps me in Organic produce, sandwiches, and natural cold & flu remedies)

·         Tapas restaurant and bar

·         The best sushi in town

·         Coffee shop

·         Italian greasy spoon

·         Medical supply store (which came in handy this summer when I was cooped up with a staph infection)

·         Pharmacy

·         Stationary store

·         Knitting shop

·         One of the best breakfast places in town

·         Wine shop & gourmet cheese retailer

·         Computer tech support

·         Cooking shop

·         Bookstore

·         Record shop

·         A delightful little bistro (which has great mac and cheese)

·         Funky clothing store

·         A ball room

·         My favorite dive bar

·         Chocolate Shop

·         Two ATM’s.

·         A wine bar / Tasting room

·         Larger than life statue of Ben Franklin (which is creepy, but a feature none-the-less)

And that is just within one block. Let me now expand out two blocks

·         The Public Library

·         A park

·         Lunch place featuring the best broccoli cheese soup in town

·         Clothing store specializing in designer jeans

·         Pizza place/ movie theater

·         Local bakery  

·         Another locally owned coffee shop

·         Photography studios

·         Two more wine bars

·         A rooftop bar

Within 3 blocks:

·         Old Fashioned Ice Cream Parlor

·         My favorite breakfast place

·         Gourmet Italian Food

·         My favorite local clothing store

·         Two more wine bars (what do you expect, it’s the Willamette Valley.)

·         A Yoga studio  

·         Jewelry & accessory store

·         Delicious café

·         Another kitchen store

4 blocks:

·         Bead store

·         Bicycle shop

·         Thai Restaurant (AKA my home away from home, or at least my main food source away from home)

·         French Bistro

And these are only the places that I frequent on a regular basis! There are countless other businesses and amenities located mere feet from my front door!  I can honestly say (as cliché as it may be) that this apartment, this location is the things that dreams are made of…. And now I am gearing up to say goodbye.

I’m not quite sure yet what I’m doing, and where I am going. Not that being forced out of an apartment is ever convenient…. But it would be really nice if I had heard back from graduate schools before having to sign a new lease. Meh, C’est la vie I suppose.

Park Kitchen... my new culinary love

Before I even walked in the doors, I knew that I was fated to like Park Kitchen. I mean with a menu item that reads “Ken's bread and house made crackers with good olive oil” how could you not love it? Especially when the good olive oil, is good olive oil that comes from Oregon, and more specifically the place that keeps me gainfully employed.

From the moment I walked into the quaint little space, I knew that I was going to like so much more than the olive oil. The walls are painted a gorgeous pistachio color, and the bar is made of copper. Is there anything more sophisticated than a copper bar? Probably, but it’s a design aesthetic that really suits my fancy. So in I came, cozied up to the bar and browsed through the list of house cocktails. Though I eventually settled on wine ( 2006 Alaia Castilla y Leon Temranillo) I am in full support of any bar that serves an Old Tom Collins made with Ransom gin (gotta love the local thing).

I was a little sad to leave behind the copper bar and follow a waitress to my table, but the moment was short lived. A) I was thrilled to be in the intimate dining room with the open kitchen, and B) the table tops were also made of copper. My kinda place. So with my wine in hand, and only slightly distracted by she shiny table, I began to browse the menu.

Can I just say that I love, love, love menus that feature both large and small plates. It’s the perfect thing to suit the whims of my stomach, sometimes I’m rather hungry, sometimes I just want a nibble, sometimes I want to try more than one thing on the menu, and the Park Kitchen menu does this perfectly. Not only did I snack on the Ken's bread and house made crackers with good olive oil, but I also indulged in the Chickpea fries with squash ketchup, before moving onto the Sweet potato and pecan chou farci, saffron rice, pomegranate chutney. I’m not going to lie, I had no idea what chou farci was. In fact, I’m still not entirely sure what chou farci is, but all I know is that the saffron rice was calling to me, and when a food calls to you, you don’t hit the ignore button.

But let me back up a minute to the chickpea fries, which were, in my opinion, fried perfection. Though I don’t actually know if they are vegan, they seemed to be the vegan alternative to mozzarella sticks. They had a similar shape and look to them, only inside rather than cheese was a wonderful chickpea purée. And say what you will about squash ketchup, but it was damn tasty.

Back to the chou farci…. What is it? Apparently it is a traditional French dish involving stuffed cabbage? This particular chou farci was stuffed in what I believe to be some sort of chard, the perfect blend sweet potato (though I think they were actually yams) rolled up into cigars of chard, sitting delicately on the saffron rice. Is it wrong to sing to your food? Ok, I didn’t exactly sing, but I definitely hummed a few bars of “Mellow Yellow” by Donovan as I enjoyed my meal, because I really am mad about saffron.

So there I am, two glasses of wine down, two courses in, and I figure at this point it is go big or go home. So I order coffee ( you can tell a lot about a restaurant from their coffee, and theirs was naturally, fantastic) and ask to see the dessert menu. Let me just stop you at the Rosemary panna cotta, pine nuts and huckleberries. If there is one thing that I truly enjoy, it is herb infused desserts, and I don’t mean that in the special brownie kind of way. I love cooking with lavender, lemon thyme, marjoram, and I find that the herby quality gives desserts just the right amount of savory. Maybe this is just a personal preference, but I haven’t been into overly sweet things lately (with my mother’s bread pudding aside). So this savory sounding dessert really caught my eye. It didn’t disappoint. The presentation was beautiful, and the mix of sweet huckleberry with the salty pine nuts paired unmistakably well with the rosemary panna cotta. If I hadn’t have been sold on this place the moment I walked in the door, I would have been after eating this dessert. Dear Scott Dolich, I might be your new biggest fan.

And then, as if I hadn’t already decided to be a loyal patron for life, I went to use the restroom, and there, painted on the door, was the mural that will keep me coming back to Park Kitchen. A Bulldog, peeing on a lamp post ( the lamp post being sort of the logo for Park Kitchen) Um hello, was this restaurant created from the inner workings of my mind? Literally, from the color of the walls, to the copper bars, to the drinks, wine list, menu set up, and mural, it’s like the owners had me in mind when they opened up Park Kitchen. I want to be life-long friends with these people, not to mention eat there every day.

Executive Chef Scott Dolich (who I have met once by the way. Little did I know that we were actually kindred spirits… though, he may not realize it) says on his Bio on the Park Kitchen Website "I am speaking to my customers - my neighbors - through Park Kitchen. The food, the décor, the size and scale of the space, and the people I work with are all helping to create an ideal of neighborhood dining. Every dish that goes on the table is important to me because there are no strangers in a small restaurant." And this is exactly how I felt walking into Park Kitchen on Saturday night. Everything was speaking to me, which is an experience one doesn’t always feel when going out to eat.

I look forward to my next culinary encounter at Park Kitchen. Though I don’t live close enough to frequent it often, and Portland is full of exciting culinary experiences that are waiting to be discovered, I like to think that if I DID live in Portland, I would spend my lunch hours at the copper bar, an open notebook, a glass of wine, enjoying the Sunchoke soup with sorrel cream. And one day, hopefully soon, I will go there for lunch to experience the House-made hot dog with ketchup and chips. (Seriously, why not rename it “Tayler’s Happy Place” Because that is essentially what it is)I would highly reccomend trying it out, and seeing if Park Kitchen isn't your happy place as well.

Visit Park Kitchen's Website

Restless

I’m not sure what it is, but I always start feeling restless after the Holidays.  Christmas and New Years are built up for so long and it’s a celebration with family, friends, food, booze, vacation time, and then before you know it January arrives and it’s back to the mundane. At first I thought this was just a personal feeling, but start polling some of my peers, and I feel like we are all in somewhat of a post holiday funk. Some of us are feeling like we are in quarter life crisis mode, others bored with jobs, or frustrated with relationships that aren’t going anywhere. For me personally, I think this is largely related to the fact that I put my final application for Graduate School in the mail on Saturday morning.

 I thought it would be a freeing feeling and suddenly all this pressure would be lifted, I’d have more free time, less worries, no more pressing deadlines and worrying about personal statements TA applications, writing samples etc. But let me tell you, the relief was short lived, and I am now finding myself in an angst ridden holding pattern.

My last application getting ready to be mailed.

For the past five months a good portion of my daily life was directed towards the goal of applying to graduate school. There were the countless hours spent studying for the GRE, researching schools, reading about programs, studying faculty, scheduling meetings with trusted advisors, tracking down letters of recommendation, making calendars… it seemed like I was hurtling towards deadlines at groundbreaking speed. And now here I am, all applications complete, transcripts submitted and all I can do is play the waiting game.

As a society in general we are somewhat fixated on instant gratification. We know what we want, and damn it we want it right now. It seems like for a nominal fee you can have almost anything delivered to your doorstep overnight. You can own things with the click of a button, one hour photo, digital cameras, e-mail, downloadable books. We are trained that sooner is better than later, and in turn we are not always a very patient society.  Now I have always been one to believe that good things come to those who wait… and waiting I am, and it is driving me crazy.

I feel like I’m at the crucial part of a choose your own adventure book, only I have no idea which path I’m going down. It’s more like I’m waiting for the adventure to choose me, waiting to figure out what I’m going to be doing with the next year of my life.

I held on to some of my applications for a while. They were all turned in long before their assigned deadlines, but I had manila envelopes full of complete applications, addressed and ready to go sitting in my living room for weeks. I knew the second I put them in the mail that I would lose control of the application process. The second they entered the custody of the US Postal service I would be surrendering what little control over the process I had, and would be at the mercy of those 5 selection committees. At least when the envelopes sat in my apartment I knew I could still tweak and edit them as I saw fit. And now there is nothing to tweak, nothing to edit, nothing to check. Nothing to do but wait.

And it’s the waiting, combined with the seasonal restlessness that is driving me crazy. I’m trying to get lost in a good book, or knitting project, copious amounts of yoga, eating healthy, cocktails, anything to distract me from the fact that it’s been six weeks since I turned in my first application. But thus far, I haven’t quite figured out what that perfect distraction is. I can’t seem to get into any of the books in my ever growing pile of “things to read when you are done with grad school applications and actually have time to read” I’m bored with my knitting, and since I live alone, I’m trying not to rely too heavily on the cocktails… Though I will admit in the past few weeks I have become rather smitten with Bloody Mary’s. Winter TV is never very entertaining, and pitchers and catchers don’t even report to spring training for another 38 days.  What’s a girl have to do these days to find a good distraction?

The celebratory bloody mary I drank moments after completeing the last application

I’ve never really been the type of person who is passive when it comes to my own life. I see something I want, I go after it (in my own timing of course) and that is usually that. So this whole waiting thing is not exactly my idea of a good time.  And I am a planner, which naturally doesn’t help the situation. I’m not a planner in the “in ten years I want to be married with two kids and a house” type of way but more in the “these are the vacation days I’m going to be taking for the summer” way. This proves to be incredibly problematic when you have no idea where you are going to be living seven months from now. Am I going to be gearing up for the busiest month in wedding season, or am I going to be training my replacement? Am I going to be downsizing and trying to figure out how what the hell to do with my collection of books, or am I going to be worrying about event bookings? Class schedules or scheduling time off?

I guess in the meantime I will continue to try to distract myself….

Out with the Old, In with the New

I know, I know I know, I still need to blog about the  Christmas Turducken, which let's face it, was a pivotal moment in 2009, but alas, I don’t have the pictures on my computer yet. Don’t worry it's coming.

I was a little bit excited to say goodbye to 2009 and welcome in the potential of 2010 on Thursday night. Not that there was anything wrong with 2009, I’m just hoping my universal karma is a little better in 2010. 2009 was the year of leaky roofs, multiple strep throat occurrences, wardrobe malfunctions, awkward encounters, Wedding Mayhem (at work of course, all the weddings involving my friends and family were awesome) STAPH infection, mice infestation, tire slashing, ghost chasing, and other adventures that will remain unlisted. I try not to be a pessimist and dwell on the negative, and at least most of these encounters have left me with priceless stories, but I’m hoping that my experiences in 2010 do not involve things like parading around town with my skirt tucked into my skivvies, high doses of antibiotics, pet bandages, being a crippled bridesmaid, and overall apartment tragedy.

The year began with an epic snowstorm and equally as epic leaky roof, and at about 10:00 on Thursday night, mere hours left in the year I found myself sitting in a bar covered head to toe in beer listening to the worst pick up line of all time.  As I was waiting in line for drinks with my friends a guy came up to me and simply said “You know what, you really stink”  (again, I was covered in beer,  so this was not news to me) and really, what is a girl supposed to say to that? The awkward silence that followed was just a little too long and a little too awkward before he finally continued “Do you want to know why? Because you’ve had people around you all night, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to you.”  And so as I stood in line, a not so great cover of a Dave Matthews Band song playing in the background, wet, sticky, smelling of beer, I said goodbye to the adventures of 2009, and gladly embraced the possibilities of 2010.

I am incredibly grateful that I was able to bid adieu to 2009 in the company of great friends who were more than willing to dance with me even though I smelled like beer.

Though I’m typically not one for resolutions, in 2010, I hope to: complain less, read more, eat less meat, drink more water, enjoy more quiet moments, try new things, do more yoga, write more poetry, put out good vibes, only wear pretty underwear, host more dinner parties, be content, master Rockband,  live in the moment.

Here is to 2010 and all of its glorious potential.