that’s MY side

I sleep on the left side of the bed. I’m not really sure why exactly. I just do. And it is MY side.

Maybe it is because the window is on the right side and I’m scared murderers might jump in and hurt me (and they wouldn’t on the left?). Or maybe it is because I like to lay on the left side of my body and dangle my foot off the edge. It is possible though that I prefer the left because the fan is on that side. Or because that is where the plug is – therefore where the alarm clock resides letting me be in control of the snooze button. Regardless of why, the left is mine, and I won’t have it any other way.

Why am I talking about sides of the bed anyway?

Last night Ben casually slipped into MY side. Naturally, I was like “Get off my side”. And he was like, “Let’s switch sides tonight”. [Enter mental picture of Laura stomping her foot like a child].

Needless to say he was evicted to his lousy right side. And he’ll be staying there.

Oh the joys of married life.

visitors

Last weekend we had the pleasure of hosting two of our friends from the Mitten State. It was their first time in Maine and they were only here for a few days – so we definitely made the most of their visit and saw all of the sights.

Portland Headlight, the Old Port, Popham Beach State Park, Cape Elizabeth, restaurants, bars — the whole sha-bang. It was especially nice because the Clam Festival happened to be that weekend so they got to experience a real Mainer event. And eat tons of seafood of course. Which actually didn’t work out so well in hindsight because one of our friends got violently ill that night and he probably won’t ever eat a clam again – but regardless – it was all in all a good weekend.

After they left the kittens proceeded to mope the rest of the day and so did I. Its funny, after you’ve been living far away for a while you start to forget about missing “home” until someone comes to visit. Talking about what’s going on back there makes you realize that the world actually DOES continue to progress even when you’re not there. I guess when I was a teenager and my mom said the world didn’t revolve around me she was right. Hate it when that happens. 

Now I’m homesick. Who wants to visit next?

Our friends with "Steamer" the clam

hot child(ren) in the city

I had never been to New York City before, to be honest I was a little scared. NYC has so much hype, so much build-up. I kept thinking – What if it’s too busy? What if it’s too loud? Or dirty? What if I hate it?

It did not disappoint.

Armed with our good friend Mark the New Yorker, Ben and I tromped our way from site to site, restaurant to landmark, and boutique to museum. We ate. We drank. We were merry.

Here are the highlights:

1. “If I eat one more thing, I’m going to vom”

I have never eaten so much in my entire life. Not only did I eat the best meal I’ve ever had at the restaurant where Mark works (not exaggerating in the least), but we also ate our weight in famous pizza, fresh cookies, asian noodles, italian gelato, falafel, and oh so much more. What happens when you go to New York to visit your good friend the chef? You gain two pounds. If it weren’t for the heat and amount of walking we did – it would have been 10. Needless to say, we indulged. And I never want to eat again.

2. Chinatown

Not only did we visit Chinatown, but we were privileged enough to have Mark’s Chinese-American roommate Barbara take us there – which was awesome. We had our fortunes read, ate some crazy Chinese candy, walked through the market and guess what else? We ate! Barbara brought us to eat Dim Sum, which is basically like Chinese tapas, except the food is wheeled around on carts laden with food-filled bamboo baskets that you get as they pass by. So cool!

3. Central Park

Good walk. Great views. Central Park.

4. Times Square

I know, I know. But I had to do it. You can’t go to New York without seeing it. Laura=silly tourist. 

5.  Being “Asian”

Speaking of being a silly tourist…It was the ongoing joke the whole time we were in NYC that I was being Asian by taking a picture of every single thing I saw. With everyone in front of it. All the time. Ben and Mark decided to be Asian this day too:

6. Governor’s Island and the show that wasn’t meant to be

On the Fourth there was a free show of a band we love (She & Him) on Governor’s Island. We thought it would be fun to take the free ferry over to see it. Apparently so did everyone else in NYC – it was at-capacity hours before we even arrived. Oh well, at least we got to see the island and got great views of the city. Cheesy picture anyone?

7. The MET

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is huge and has lots of cool stuff in it. What else can I say?

8. If I were a rich man

The shopping. Oh, the shopping. Prada. Louis Vuitton. Burberry. And furniture galore.

If I were a rich man…ya-da-dee-dee-dee-dee-biddy biddy-deedle deedle bum.

9. Fireworks

Who wouldn’t love celebrating the Fourth of July in America’s greatest city? Of course we saw the fireworks. That would be just un-freakin-American if we didn’t. Okay, I know what you’re thinking, “Why didn’t she take a picture of the fireworks if she’s so Asian?” Sorry. I think it was the only thing I DIDN’T take a picture of. Oh well, everyone knows what fireworks look like anyway. 

10. 102 degree weather and friends

Let’s see what is the one thing I haven’t mentioned yet….Food? check. Chinatown? check. Oh yeah, that’s right….THE BLISTERING HEAT!!! It was sweltering the entire time we were there. It even reached 102 degrees on Tuesday. Way too hot. 

Regardless of the heat, we had an overall awesome time. We were even able to meet up with our friends Melissa and Jared for a day who were leaving for Europe so we could say our goodbyes. Mark showed us a ton of things we wouldn’t have normally seen if we had gone by ourselves, we ate like kings, and despite Ben’s resistance, I got to see the cheesy stuff too. Trip to New York City = Success. 

When I Grow Up Pt 2

I think my first career aspiration was to work at Disneyworld. I wanted to be one of those costumed characters that walks around sweating profusely while signing autographs for spoiled children. It’s a good thing I grew out of that one.  I also recall  the dream of being a zookeeper. Really, though, what kid didn’t want to be a zookeeper? As a child I innately adored animals, and my mom shared all her fun stories with me about her college zookeeping days at John Ball. Plus, the exotic zoo animals seemed way cooler than the cows on the farm. It sounded like the perfect gig. It wasn’t long, however, that I realized zookeepers made zero money and that it was uncannily congruent to farm work (I knew I did NOT want to be a farmer). My mom also finally shared that her friend at John Ball was killed by a Jaguar that had escaped into the feeding area. I decided to opt out. Lori Jo, I believe we are in the same boat here. 

 Fast forwarding, it was somewhere between roller coaster engineer, professional trampolinist, starving artist, and architect that I decided to pursue a degree in photography. I can’t remember exactly why I chose to do this for the rest of my life, and I do have mixed feelings about it. I suppose sometimes I feel anxious that there are so many interesting opportunities out there that I should have pursued, that I should be equipped with many more skills (like nun-chucking skills). But alas, I am young and I have a long time to figure things out. It’s crazy to think of where life takes you.

When I Grow Up

Ben and I went out for a drink the other night and started talking about what our dream jobs would be. Our conversation then led to, “What did you want to be when you were a kid?” You know, the classic, “When I grow up…” essay.

I went first. I think the first thing I ever wanted to be was a ballerina. I remember dressing up as a ballerina for Halloween one year and also took some dance lessons for a while. That dream soon flew out the window when both my mother and I realized I was WAY too clumsy to be a dancer. Now, what can you be if you want to be pretty like ballerinas but can’t dance? 

Next dream: Beauty Queen. HA! That didn’t last long – especially when you’re less than 5’4″  tall and wear retainers. Let’s see, can’t rely on good looks…talents maybe? I had always loved to draw and had piles of sketchpads and notebooks filled with doodles and pencilled portraits – an artist possibly? Those dreams also soon fizzled when I realized I didn’t want to do the only two things I thought artists could do: teach art  to school children or  go into graphic design. By this time I was in high school and thought, “Oh crap, I really better figure this out” and started looking for other ideas.

After considering veterinary school for about two seconds and then radiology for another two I enrolled in college as an undecided and on a whim freshman year declared my major as Physical Education more looking towards working in Health Education. It took me a semester to realize A) I don’t especially care for children I’m not related to and B) Teachers make no money, to start looking elsewhere for another occupation when I stumbled upon Exercise Science  (Fitness/Wellness) – fell in love with health promotion and now here I am 5 years later working in a wellness job I love. 

It sure is crazy how things work out. What did you want to be when you grew up? (Also, stay tuned for the next blog entry, “When I Grow Up Continued”  by Benjamin D.)

what’s for dinner?

Since Ben and I don’t eat meat very much anymore, we supplement our diet with a lot of beans for protein. Our favorite? Black beans! We make black bean soup, black bean burritos, and our recent favorite: black bean burgers! Here’s the recipe:

Ingredients:

2-3 T Olive oil

1/2 C finely minced onion

Two 15 oz. cans of black beans or 3 cups cooked black beans

1 large egg, well beaten

1 cup toasted breadcrumbs

2 t ground cumin

2 t minced garlic

Scant 1/2 t salt

1/8 t ground black pepper

Directions:

1. Saute onion and garlic in large skillet with 1 T oil 3-4 min or until soft – set aside to cool slightly

2. Drain and rinse beans. Transfer to a large bowl and mash with a potato masher until smooth. Sitr in beaten egg, breadcrumbs, cumin, salt and pepper. Scrape in cooked onion/garlic – mix until thoroughly combined. Form into 4 large patties or 6 small patties. 

3. Wipe out skillet with paper towel and return to medium heat with 1 T of oil. When heated, place patties in the pan and cook on each side 3 minutes, or until golden brown. Serve immediately and enjoy! We always eat them with a simple guacamole (smashed avacado and mayo)… De-lish!

worries: confirmed.

I went to take out the garbage today and ran into Roy. He was bending down planting tomatoes so I just said “Hey Roy” and turned to head back inside, but he started to stand up and asked how I was doing, so I stopped to chat for a minute.

“Roy! What happened?” was the first thing I said. As he stood up and looked at me I realized he had a big purple black eye, a swollen cut nose, and a big bump and scrape on his forehead. “Are you okay?”, I asked. 

“Oh I’m fine, young lady” he said. Apparrently he was out somewhere and fell on the sidewalk. He was pretty banged up for just falling, I’m guessing he was drinking (not surprised) and fell pretty hard, but it sure looked like someone let him have it – even he someone did I doubt he would tell me. He brushed it off like it was nothing anyway, but I’m sure he was just embarassed.

Darn it Roy, now I’m even more worried! And I had just started to convince myself that I shouldn’t get wound up over that silly old man…

happy birthday…

…to me.

It’s my 23rd birthday today. It was nice that it happened to land on Memorial Day this year – who doesn’t like to have the day off on their birthday?

I was thinking back to last year’s Birthday Blues and how I was feeling at that time. It seems like ages ago that we were in London celebrating my 22nd. Now here we are in Portland celebrating my 23rd. Crazy.

We had sort of a ho-hum weekend. A short hike yesterday at a small mountain nearby and dinner at “King of the Roll”, a Japanese/sushi place up the street. Today Ben had to work but got to leave early so we went to Old Orchard Beach for the afternoon which was fun. Old Orchard Beach is a touristy little coastal town south of Portland – with lots of kitschy shops, funnel cakes, and carnival rides on the beach. We enjoyed a beer and lobster roll on the pier and walked in the sand – so that was nice – and ended the evening havng drinks with friends. 

I talked to my older sister today and she said something to the effect of “I hate to tell you this, but birthdays just aren’t as exciting as you get older as they used to be”.

So true. Maybe I’ll break the cycle by livin’ it up next year and actually staying out past 11:00pm. But for now – I’m off to bed. See you next year birthday!

This is Fun

Architecture in Helsinki
Hold Music

Roy

Who is Roy?

When Ben and I moved into our apartment back in late February, we didn’t meet many of our neighbors.  The one neighbor we did meet in the beginning – was Roy.

Our first encounter with Roy was an accident. Ben had gone downstairs to do laundry and stumbled upon Monarch, Roy’s beloved feline friend, and met him first. He didn’t say much about him, just that he was an old man that lived in the basement apartment and had a cat. Ben also mentioned that Roy had said some jibberish about Ben “finding him in the dryer someday”, and that he had invited him in for a vodka – Ben had mostly gathered that he was just a crazy old man who drank a lot, and we didn’t hear from Roy for a while.

I first met Roy when the weather started getting nice. I was leaving the apartment one day and there was an old man out front gardening with a big cat nearby, and I figured it was him so I introduced myself. He was very friendly, asked me how my husband was doing and of course invited me for a drink, I of course had to decline since it was early morning and I had to go to the supermarket, but he was very friendly none-the-less.

As time went by we started to see Roy more and more. He always greeted us with an (almost toothless) smile, asked us about anything he can remember about our lives, and never let us out of sight without offering a drink. We would generally politely decline and go about our day – but lately it has been different.

We got a knock on our door not too long ago in the evening after supper. We figured it must be one of the neighbors, because you can’t get into our building without a key so generally we have to let people in. It was Roy – he wanted to know if we had a flashlight he could borrow. When Ben handed him the flashlight, Roy had asked if maybe he could come and help him. Of course Ben did — turns out he had broken a lightbulb while still in the socket and couldn’t stand on the ladder very well to get it out by himself. Roy was very thankful and even gave us some of his homemade meatloaf to show his gratitude the next day. Just recently, he came and knocked again and asked for help because he couldn’t get a tape to play on his stereo.

Its funny, I used to not pay much attention to Roy. Now I find myself worrying about him. Often times we can hear him calling out the window for his cat, Monarch, and I worry how upset he would be if Monarch didn’t come home. I worry he will drink too much and hurt himself. I worry he is lonely or sad, even though he often has visitors who do stop by for a vodka. I worry he might need our help sometime and we won’t be home.

So who is Roy?

Roy is an old man. Roy is an alcoholic and a smoker. Roy is a gardener and a cat lover. Roy is our neighbor. And turns out – Roy is someone I care about.