Monthly Archives: April 2009

I used my PTO

I went on vacation!  I left on a Friday and didn’t come back until the next next Sunday.  I took 6 whole days off from work!  6!
This means that I no longer have 100 hours of unused PTO, but more like 50.  And I will be whiling those remaining ones away in less than a month.

Oh, what a leisurely life to lead!

I guess I hadn’t appreciated how much better and easy and simply more likely to happen travel was when you have A Person.  Which is a very nice thing about having A Person, but is probably only like #14 on the list of nice things about it.

We went to New York, where David had never been and then… I think a list is in order.
Ate bagels.
Walked around Williamsburg, Brooklyn and crossed the Williamsburg Bridge.
Had caprese salad and white wine in Little Italy.
Visited Stephen at La Botega where he keeps bar.
Drank sake in the Village.
Had excellent sushi at Bosu, back in Williamsburg.
Crossed the Brooklyn Bridge with Aunt Nora and Gordon.
Wandered the Village and had Mexican with large mojitos.
Discussed the psychoticness of family at length.
Saw Othello and glimpsed Times Square.  Actors spit and sweated copiously.
Took the bus to Clinton. David met the mother.  Did downtown Clinton.
Drove around Hunterdon County countryside and small towns.
Met the brother.
Started drinking with the brother and the father and the Maggie and the David.
Dinner in Clinton.
Met up with Peter in Newark.
Ginormous dinner at a classy Jersey dinner
Yankee game in the rain. Tied after 9 innings. We left.
Met up with Riggsy and Jay and had Thai in Union Square.
Saw Fuerza Bruta, which was awesome.
Beers in Williamsburg.
Took the Staten Island Ferry to Staten Island.
Drove with mom to Long Island.
Hung out with Nana.
Visited Aunt Mary, who got a cake that said “Welcome to New York David!”
Dinner and drinks in Hells Kitchen with Rebecca, Sarah and Jay.  Kind of a mess, but whatever.
Went to Nina’s apartment on the upper West side, walked through the park and wandered the Met.
Strolled down 5th Avenue.
Dinner at very nifty restaurant, La Esquina.
Drinks at Russian vodka bar, Pravda.
Listened to a band in the village.
Shared a slice between the 3 of us.
Finished it and got a second one from a different place.
Crossed back over to Brooklyn, one more slice.
Back in Williamsburg with Bek and Jay.
English fish and chips with mushy peas for lunch.
Checked out Grand Central Station and the whispering hall.
A cupcake from Magnolia.
Viewed vistas from the Top of the Rock.
Snacks and wine at Bread.
Back to Brooklyn.  Dinner at Snacky.

And away…


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I don’t really read non-fiction; I’m a novel junkie.  So I knew about Eat Pray Love when that came out, but I never really felt tempted to read it.  It also had this vague self-help aura about it, moving it even further down my lists of to-read.

But then our CEO heard Elizabeth Gilbert‘s TED talk and fell in love with her.  We watched the TED talk at a company meeting, and I felt rather compelled by Elizabeth Gilbert myself and decided to give Eat Pray Love a read.   I bought a used copy, in a token gesture of defiance for the non-fiction book buying.

And, just like everyone else, I loved it.

It made me want to go to Italy and eat a lot of pizza.  With double mozzarella.

And then I wanted to go to India and study meditation, even though it did sound a bit awful.

And then and then!  I wanted to go to Indonesia and visit beaches and party with expats!

It made me want to be her, I suppose.  She was so smart and witty and interesting.  And excitable and boisterous and optimistic.  But other than appreciating the neatness that just is this woman, I very much liked the tidiness of the book.  The way it was organized.  I like how it referenced back to itself in clever ways and how the themes were subtly woven throughout the story.  I liked her descriptions of people and all the wise and sage things they had to say.  I appreciated just how deeply sad and hurt she was and how well she described it.  And then I appreciated the way she pulled on her boot straps and just told herself to get better, and she did it.


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Reason #712

Watching my boyfriend become the room mate of a cat has been amusing and endearing.

Maple, like all cats, is an odd little creature.  She plays fetch.  She yowls incessently.  She sneaks into the bathtub to sit in it when it’s wet.  And she likes to lick stuff.  Anything smooth and flat and quite often, people skin.

She likes to come sit on us in bed, perching attentively on hip or on David’s chest.  Quite cutely, sometimes she’ll reach out a paw to touch one of our faces.

And David, my sweet sweet sweet boy, he will take a hand out from underneath the covers just to give it to Maple to start licking and nipping on.  That’s reason number seven hundred and twelve that I love him.


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Filed under The David, these are the days of my lives

Good Friday

Downtown SF

I sat on some steps in the sun, eating frozen yogurt with strawberries, and reading Eat Pray Love.  It was an alright half an hour to be off the clock.

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Happiness is not something ready made, it comes from your own action.

Dalai Lama

Today is the 50th anniversary of the dalai lama’s exhile from Tibet in Dharamshala, India.

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“your wedding day is not a photographic event”

I get to look at a lot of wedding pictures.  A LOT.

At first I was fascinated by them and wanted to critique every dress, choice of flowers, bridesmaid dress color and bridal/groomal attractiveness.  I would take the time to look through every book and no matter how simple the affair, I would get a bit caught up in the moment of it.

Time passed.

And then I got bored.  The weddings just turned into a never ending stream of sameness.

Occasionally, I will still come across pictures that stand out.  For my own amusement, I do rather like it when they stand out like these ones:

picture-5 picture-6 picture-7

But I can still be impressed by goodness, too. Every now and again, I come across a photographer whose wedding pictures move me.  Sometimes, they make me cry a little.  I should be fairly immune to this by now, but I am happy to see that there are some real photographers out there, even though everyone and their mom is taking pictures.

My current favorite is this British guy, Graham Morgan.  I was particularly impressed by his candid pictures of the guests.  He somehow got beautiful, unobtrusive portraits of many (all?) individuals at the wedding as they watched the ceremony.

I also just love the british-y ness of the weddings he does, which speaks less about him perhaps and more about his geography.  Or it could be about the kind of clientele he picks up.   But I love the ladies in hats and old stone churches and gray lighting of overcast skies.

So when time comes that I happen across someone needing a wedding photographer in Bath or Bristol, I will be very emphatically recommending this one.

portfolio screenshot from

portfolio screenshot from

portfolio screenshot from

portfolio screenshot from

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