Sunday, November 29, 2009

67,288

This past Friday, as all of my family was away celebrating Thanksgiving, and my husband was killing it on Black Friday raking in the dough, I was burroughed on my sofa typing up the last few breaths of my first novel. 112 pages. 67,288 words. One very impressed girl. [I impressed myself. Not an easy task.]


[Congratulatory kiss.]


[Ginger celebrating on my belly with the computer and novel behind.]


[The spaced out look of accomplishment.]

I still have a long way to go with it. There is loads of editing to be done. And then the daunting and somewhat ridiculous task of trying to get published. But, honestly, it isn't even about getting published. The sensation of having written a book, be it published or not, but having accomplished the act of writing a novel, is like none I have ever experienced. As a person, I am feeling slightly realized. Like I have actually done something with my life. Something I always wanted to do. Something I never really was sure I would do. And something that I intend to keep on doing until I am old and gray, have lost my vision, ability to speak [I could tell my stories to a transcriber!], or have simply lost my mind. But even then the stories would at least probably be interesting, sans mind and all.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Deliciously Authentic Thanksgiving With The In-Laws

My first Thanksgiving as a married person consisted of:

a slightly hungover crawling out of bed earlier than I would get up for work,



 [evidence of the night before.]

crawling into the shower, then into the car,
driving two and a half hours [Egg McMuffin in hand] to Tallahassee,
eating a deliciously authentic southern Thanksgiving dinner [courtesy of the Mother-In-Law] with my newly acquired family,


[mom hug.]

watching the baby cousins roll around the yard, soccer balls and footballs carelessly careening dangerously close to noses,


[matt, justin, and jarrett]

 
[brothers.]



[husband, wife, and pop's camellia bushes.]


[kyle, kyson, and baron's blue van.]

 
[kyle & kyson, matt & zachary]

 
[jennifer, baron, darryl's hog, and the kindle.]

 
[kyson]

 
 [justin and zachary]

coming in from the cold to talk the intricacies of existence, the bravery of soldiers from WWII, the manufacturing of Twinkies, and the infallibility of the car repair industry,
hugs and kisses goodbye after a mere 6 hours of visitations,
two and half more hours on the now pitch black interstate, the consumption of two large NOS's [the bobo Red Bull], an ill-conceived dinner of Snyder's Hot Buffalo Wings Pretzel Pieces,


an emergency visit to Walmart for shoe inserts,
and cleaning up the upchucking of an overstuffed puppy [likely from eating the cat food all day while we were away].

All in all, a great success.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Lessons In How To Wear A Gigantic Bird Mask

Thanks to the amazing artistry of my friend Stephen Foster, some pointers and how-to's for a gigantic bird mask. It is clearly a multifaceted device.



Sunday, November 22, 2009

Triple Layered Threat

Last weekend Justin and I met up with some friends at Three Layers A Coffeehouse, the new hotspot coffee shop/wine bar/delicious eatery in the heart of Springfield.

I was skeptical of the location after having looked it up on Google Maps. It was located on Walnut Street, east of Main St. and nestled back into the neighborhoods of former glory and current "renovation". But Springfield is an amazing neighborhood. I remember spending many days and nights there at the ripe age of 19 when my friend Rachel lived at the corner of 9th and Main. I frequented Henrietta's and TSI [now the Pearl]. And probably even ate some of the Kentucky Fried Chicken within walking distance of my friend's front door.

Three Layers seems straight out of San Francisco's Mission, or a bustling neighborhood of Brooklyn, or the culture of Seattle, as the coffeehouse proclaims. It's smart. It's unique. It's artistic. It's inviting. It's warm. It's eclectic. It's the kind of hip, authentic place, with real attitude and real wherewithal, that you expect to find in a city. And not that Jacksonville isn't a real city, but it's a little bit of a sleeper town. And it's places like Three Layers that are shaking it awake.


Zen Garden at Three Layers.

The wine selection was expansive and surprising. The beer selection was rustic and bold, and even had a number of our very own Bold City brews on tap. Justin and I sampled the hummus platter and the chicken salad platter. Both were delicious, yet delicate in their approach. And I hear they offer some delectable sweets.

All around, the entire experience was delicious, yet delicate. The decor was comfortable with an old world touch, but surrounded by contemporary modern art, many from Jacksonville's local artists [like Overstreet Ducasse, whose vibrant, urban, thought provoking pieces have been showcased all across the city and turning him into a local staple].  The music of Billy Buchanan and his guitar filled the main room with talented tunes [and many covers], but was not overpowering. He created a kind of elite background noise. Listen if you want [and you probably would want to], or don't. And the food and beverages, again, were great.






Billy Buchanan.




 




Three Layers is the kind of place where I would love to become a regular. Cozying into one of the overstuffed leather chairs with my book of the month, or enjoying dusk in the zen garden with a couple friends, or having an engaging conversation in the dimly lit bar.

Three times the reward for coming to Three Layers. You won't be disappointed.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Lazerlicious


Lazerstar performing at ConmotoYou're the best around. Nothings ever gunna bring you down.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

When Driving Doesn't Suck

I do not profess to be a lover of driving. After a few minor car accidents, one very bad accident, one day where Justin and I were both in fairly bad accidents within 30 minutes of each other, and a handful of occasions where mechanical failures have left me in embarrassing and binding situations... I just do not love cars.

I think they are dangerous. I think people are careless in them. I think I am careless in them [clearly displayed in the images below], even when I try not to be and make an effort to be exceptionally careful. And, it's boring. Traffic sucks. It takes a long time and I am not an incredibly patient person. I would so much rather the morph and teleporting method to driving any day, granted we re-molecularize properly and in one cohesive piece.

There are, though, a few wonderful things about driving that do not seem able to occur in any other setting. Like today for example. Once I broke through the disgusting maze of metal on wheels that is Beach Blvd. [coming home from a radio interview with Angela Robinson of The Color Purple on v101.5], I broke into one of those almost spiritual moments I sometimes have in cars.

The traffic faded. The sun was setting, nearly blinding me, but creating an opalescent sky that could take my breath away. And "Spirit in the Sky" by Norman Greenbaum was wafting out of speakers and into my mind.


 Florida and its sunsets. 



Blinded. [Safe? I think not.] And taking photos. [Doubly unsafe.]

Oh set me up with the spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
I'm gonna go to the place that's the best
- "Spirit in the Sky" by Norman Greenbaum



**Loving all the Jesus imagery in the video.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Photographic Memory: How to Hail a Shopping Cart

The year was 2006. It was the night of Aliea's art show in the city. Aliea, Justin, Mike, Cynthia and I all put on our fanciest duds, piled onto the BART, and headed into San Francisco one chilly November night to witness one of the most fascinating displays of contemporary art I've ever witnessed first hand.

The art was bold. It was colorful and shocking and extremely tangible. It left you feeling slightly unhinged, savoring the lasting remnants of the free cheap booze, holding onto your comprehensible brain cells with earnestness while you gazed into the destroyed concepts of the modern world, all the while maintaining a sense of cooky absurdism.







Aliea's art of distant photographic memories, that savored the nostalgic and hinged on the spiritual, fit right in.





At the end of the night I could barely feel my toes. Typically the end result of a night in the uncomfortable, yet fashion forward stilettos. Something made especially impractical when living in the city, but simultaneously especially more necessary.





So we hailed us a shopping cart. And they pushed me all the way home.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Been to Bento?

Lately I have been hitting the jackpot of new delicious restaurants and bars. All hits, no misses. No exception was the delectable Pan Asian and Sushi lunch I recently enjoyed with my mother and sister and sister friend at Bento Cafe.

Bento Cafe - Pan Asian and Sushi Cuisine has recently opened in the St. John's Town Center. Actually, just off the Town Center in one of the expanded centers that is, as far as I can tell, only distinguished by the name of it's "street" - Big Island Drive.

I ordered the High Tide Sushi Roll special of the day. It was a tasty mix of avocado, scallop, crab, maybe some cream cheese, and probably some other things [so shoot me, I forgot the ingredients] topped with eel sauce and some spicy mayo. It was delicious and fresh.

Mom got the Garlic and Broccoli Chicken Noodle Bowl [not to be confused with the Noodle Soup Bowl - finally some Noodle Soup!]. Chelsea got the Korean Beef Bento Box that was piled high with spicy strips of beef and vegetables, most notably the onion that even Chelsea enjoyed, a classic non-onion eater. And Katie got the Sweet and Sour Chicken Bento Box. The Bento Boxes were a nice platter of your chosen dish, flash fried green beans, salad, rice, and chow mein noodles.

I think I've said delicious too many times in this blog [some other adjectives were changed to attempt to avoid this situation - tasty, delectable... delicious always came first], but that was the sensation Bento left us with. None of us could decide which meal we liked most, each naming off every item on the table when trying to determine the culinary winner.


Some serious side eye.








I did run into a friend there at the same time who ordered the Pad Thai and was left disappointed. Her Pad Thai was "orange" and not "peanuty enough". So, maybe don't get the Pad Thai. Or try it for yourself.

One more thing - they don't serve alcohol. Yet.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Royal Fingernail Treatment

I almost never get a manicure when I visit the nail salon. They undoubtedly will chip immediately upon exiting the building, sometimes before. And while I do think the occasional upkeep of the cuticals is a good idea, mine are not especially troublesome, as far as cuticals go. A manicure just doesn't really seem worth the time or the money.

However, this past Veteran's Day, my mom took my sister and I to get our nails done at Royal Essence Spa and Nails. They boast:
At Royal Essence Spa & Nails, we have %100 satisfaction guaranteed. We have a full complimentary bar with choices of wine, soda, water, and smoothies. At our spa, on weekend we have your favorite sports channel on so you can enjoy your service with full entertainment and relaxation.
Royal Essence Spa and Nails.

Vino.

Bathrooms. [Didn't actually see these, but they were
proud enough to put this photo on their website.]

The wine was nice. I had two glasses. I chose to get their Royal Super Deluxe Stone Pedicure, providing my lower extremities with 21 various treatments to make them fresh and girly again. The paraffin wax treatment and lengthy stone massage did wonders to my limbs and toes, but I am not sure it was entirely worth the $55 price tag.

However, what WAS amazing, royal, super, and deluxe was the $8 paint change on my fingernails I opted in for. My mom had explained that my chipping black nail polish looked a little like bats on my fingertips and encouraged me to free them from their caged lifestyle with a grin that only a mother can give. So I swapped it out for a vibrant red ["a dramatic color for a dramatic person" according to my mother, to which I explained that I was not "dramatic" but rather "bold"].

Solid like a rock. And yes, shameless self promotion of
The Color Purple going on in the background.

An entire 48 hours later and the paint is still on my fingers, chip free! I keep staring down at them every few minutes in amazement. I am not exactly the daintiest of ladies, and this is a feat I have never accomplished in probably my entire life. Well done Royal Essence. Well done.


Thus inspired to listen to Bob Seger's all time southern, Chevy truck-driving, mud-slinging classic, "Like A Rock". Although not quite the mental image of fingernail maintenance.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Soon to be veterans...

But still a big bunch of rookies.

I am talking about the Jacksonville Jaguars, whom I have recently become a little more cognizant of as part of my I-was-raised-on-football-and-will-now-start-paying-attention-to-it plan. [Ed. Note... this blog is slightly convoluted.]

Football has been practically a foundation of my upbringing, with my Uncle Gary playing for Florida State Football in the late 1960's and helping to start the ever so intense rivalry between FSU and Florida on that long grassy field. Football was never not around, in one form or another.


Uncle Gary.

I then happened to marry a man who comes from another seriously ingrained family of Florida State Athletics, perhaps even more so than my Cash-Pajcic connection, that of the Long's. Mike Long, Justin's grandfather, was the first coach FSU ever had after the school switched from an all girls university to co-ed. He coached every single sport they had, but eventually went on to focus solely on track. [At one point, Mike Long tried to recruit my uncle, the quarterback of the football team, to join the track team, but to no avail.] The track at Florida State University is now named Mike Long Track.

Our families are both so involved in Florida State sports that I once ran into Justin's father and uncle at the FSU Athletics Hall of Fame induction ceremony for my uncle [amongst some other greats]. Because you know, that's the kind of place you go to see people and be seen.


Mike Long Track.

Point being... although Justin and I are not football fanatics, or exceptionally athletic in any way [hello yoga!], we come from a long line of it. And we both respect it. So we decided this year to make a true valiant effort to watch football. So far, we have been pretty successful regardless of the fact that our two teams, FSU and the Jaguars, are doing less than stellar. We are fans!

This blog is about the Jaguars, though. [Hello convolution. I warned you.]


Rooaaaarrrr.

On Sunday, my buddy Wanda and I got invited to the game by my great friend Mary and the organization she works for, Best Buddies International. We sat with the Honor Row students [they were awesome/adorable/excited/fun] and had a pretty good view of the field from way up in the sky.


Wanda pulled out an impressive handful of candy she had
stashed in her pocket when I asked if she was hungry.



She was covered.

The Jags played pretty well, but some complained of them not blowing it out of the park against some measly team. I was just happy they were winning the entire time.

While we watched the game Mary scoured every inch of the program, becoming very well read in the height, weight, age, college, and years in the NFL of each player, which was then matched to a photo, which we then discussed in depth their smiles, width of necks, hairdo's, etc. The kind of things two ladies who love sports but are not exactly aficionados might do at a football game.

Will, Mary's boyfriend, explained to us how many of the players on the team were new. They were Rookies. Almost 22 of them, if I remember correctly. It's a young team, with a bunch of young players. And it shows. But one day, if the city of Jacksonville can give them the support they need to stick around, they will be veterans. It would be nice for Jacksonville to have a little bit of their own tradition. Their own "My uncle has owned these seats for thirty years" kind of thing. Their own deeply rooted connection to this city and the people in it.

And to top it off, as today is Veteran's Day, a huge mass of young men and women were inducted into the United States Armed Forces during half time. We cheered from way up high, and even sang along a few verses of one of the best songs of all time, "God Bless the USA".


Induction Ceremony.

So, it was a day of Rookies... just waiting and working towards the day that they can be Veterans. They want to serve us well.

Go team!

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

4:45am

It's a great time to start the work day, no?



It is only 7:28am and I feel like it's lunch time. Ayiyi. Taking a moment to work from home, considering no one will be in the office for a good hour.


Breakfast of extremely tired champions.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Not for the Ghouls and Goblins.

All his life, Justin has had the great misfortune of sharing his birthday with the ghouls and goblins that come to visit us for one day each year. It is especially unfortunate because he hates to dress up, and is yet forced to, year after year, on the day that is supposed to be all about him.

Birthdays are important to me. They represent the person's existence. Why I can see them, talk to them, look them in the eyes, hug them, laugh with them, cry with them. It is why I get to love them. Because they were born.

I've always struggled with Justin's birthday. I want him to know how important this day is because it gave us all him. But I also love Halloween. And so does almost everyone else, as it's one of the greatest days of the year. It's a battle, and Justin is usually the loser, thrust into some party wearing some costume I concocted [usually inspired by his tastes, but a costume none-the-less].

This year, thanks to some wise thinking by our good friend Cielo, the joint travel efforts of our close friends, Ali and Donald, and my sister and bro-in-law, Jana and Chris, and some other wonderful schemers, we put together an amazing birthday surprise.

Everyone dressed up like a version of Justin.

There was Justin-in-the-womb [Chels], FSU Track Runner Justin [Katie], Mountain Justin [Jana], Chris-as-Justin-as-Chris Justin [Chris], Cowboy Justin [Cielo], Drunk Justin [Madre], Fisherman Justin [Ali], Guitar Center Justin [Donald], and Rocker Justin [Me]. There were also clown noses for everyone. To make it just a little bit scary [and still birthday inspired].



And then, of course, Justin was Old-Man Justin. It was fairly believable, too, considering that as soon as he put on the gray wig he became extremely crotchety. And the cane we provided seemed well received, as he walked around the house leaning into it, complaining of feet pains from standing all day.



We had a feast of his favorites... mini-meatloaf sandwiches, indy green bean casseroles, fried chicken, zucchini fries, watermelon, cake, and some lethal vodka lemonades. And of course, Miller High Life. The champagne of beers.


Justin fishing for compliments and gifts in his birthday hat, thank you Donald.

Everyone got their Halloween. We got our costumes and our party. And Justin got to know just how much his birth really means to us.















Happy Birthday, love.