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Odds and Ends

Melanie

I believe if we pay attention, all of us occasionally bump into our own futures.
— from Expecting Adam, by Martha Beck

Twelve days, no posts.  Bad blogger.  Here’s what’s new:

1. I’m getting ready to head to Long Island on Thursday to be in a Saturday wedding of my closest friend from law school.  I am really looking forward to it: my friend and her fiance (also a law school classmate) are perfect for each other and I am honored to stand up for them; many friends from school will be there as well; the dress is gorgeous (not that it matters – you wear what she tells you to wear and shut up about it – but it helps); and David’s coming with me.  He was on the fence, 4 weeks ago when I had to RSVP a number, about whether he wanted to go, but one day on the way to work he handed me a letter.  Among other things, it said he wanted to go with me so we could have our first dance.  Have I mentioned that I adore him?   I’m excited for our first road trip together, and I can’t wait to be at a fancy event with him all dressed up and looking handsome.

2. This weekend was my turn to plan a date weekend.  I stressed and stressed over the restaurant for Friday.  I’m not sure why – maybe because he’s not as adventurous an eater as I am, and so I kept finding restaurants I wanted to try but not seeing anything on the menu I thought he would like.  Eventually I settled on J Gilbert’s, and it was lovely.  The food was delicious (he had steak, as I knew he would) and the service was great, and it was a wonderful night.  Saturday, I picked batting cages and mini-golf.  I’m playing softball in a rec league this fall and I needed the batting practice, and I wanted to challenge David at putt putt.  He kept assuring me there was no way I could win, but win I did, by one stroke.  He kept claiming irregularities in the course (which, incidentally, was not very challenging; we’re going to try another place for a rematch), or that I cheated (which I did not, though I did get pretty lucky, including a hole-in-one), but in the end, the result stands.

Afterwards, we went and wandered around Wegman’s, which is the best grocery store ever, and bought some Spanish wine.  Then we changed and went to dinner at Bilbo Baggins in Old Town, and despite good reviews online, was not very good at all.  But I was really in it for the company, which was fantastic as always.  We got ice cream cones for desert and wandered down by the waterfront, just talking, and then headed home.  Yesterday was a little lazy in the morning, but then, since it was a beautiful day, we took a 9-mile bike ride into DC and back.  Then we came back to my place and made dinner while watching the Emmy red carpet on E, football, the Emmys, more football, and the last game at Yankee Stadium.  All in all, it was a great weekend.  I’m always surprised at the way the weekend seems to last longer the more stuff I pack into it.

3.  Back when I was in Boston, my roommate TequilaMary and I took the ferry to Salem.

Everything touristy was closed by the time we got there, so we just walked around and shopped mostly.  But here are some neat photos of the things we saw.  First, the windows at the Witch Museum:

Now, the garden of a mad genius:

He happened to have the largest sunflowers I’ve ever seen growing there as well (that’s TM’s hand, for scaling purposes):

Wandering down the main street, I came across this beautiful bench and, of course, had to take a picture (because it’s purple):

Finally, the pièce de résistance:

Yeah.  That’s a liquor store called The Bunghole.  So.  Awesome.

4.  It’s time to start looking for a new job.  My current appointment ends early next September, which seems like a long time from now, but in this area, and in my field, it really isn’t that long, so I need to get on the ball.  I never even updated my resume after I started this job, so I really am at square one.  I hate this part, job hunting and interviewing.  It’s like this is the time when everyone figures out what a fraud I am and I’ll never work again.  I hate selling myself.  Maybe I’ll just go be a tollbooth operator.  How bad could that be?

5. New tv this week!  As we speak, How I Met Your Mother is on, Heroes is on next, Grey’s Anatomy is Thursday, and over the next month or so, all my favorite shows come back!  Yay!

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I Ran For Life

Melanie

I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
for all that is real
I run for your mother, your sister, your wife
I run for you and me my friend
I run for life
– Melissa Etheridge, I Run For Life

You’ve all been very patient, waiting with bated breath (I’m sure) for my Boston recap.  There’s lots to tell, and more than just the race, but I’ll focus on that for today and tell you the rest another time.  It was all it was cracked up to be, that’s for sure.

Here I am, at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning (ok, it’s probably 7:20 in this picture, but I got up at 6:30), outside the hotel ready to walk to the UMass campus with the rest of the team:

The only name I wore was my mom’s; special thanks to Cheesie for making the iron-on piece for me:

This is my timing chip.  Since I signed up as a runner, I got to be officially timed (more on that later).

This was the starting line, back at the marker for 10-minute-plus mile runners, just before 9 o’clock Sunday morning:

The energy was palpable, and everyone was in a great mood.  Saturday had been rainy and so windy, and Sunday was predicted to be the same, but except for 10 minutes just before the start, it was sunny and breezy and beautiful; what luck!

This little guy was running with his dad, who was walking behind him.  We were in mile 2 and the people coming towards us were in mile 1, and they were all clapping and cheering for him, and he had the biggest smile on his face.

At one point during the first mile, I was running, surrounded by all of these people who were all working toward the same goal, both that day – to finish the race – and longer term – to find a cure for breast cancer – among survivors in their pink t-shirts, and kids with notes on their backs saying they were running for their moms, and husbands running for their wives, and friends running in support or in memory of friends, and I got choked up and teary.  I think we get so caught up in our lives that we sometimes forget that we really are in this – life – together.

I haven’t looked at the official results, but I can tell you that I ran the race- all of it, without stopping or walking – in exactly the amount of time I expected to, which was slower than my treadmill training pace, but still good since I hadn’t run at all in the 5 weeks leading up to the race.  I hate running, you guys, which is why I stopped doing it, but that day, after the first 10 minutes, I knew I could do the whole thing, however long it took me.  I don’t know if it was the race atmosphere, or knowing that I’d have to come back and tell people how I did, or what, but I hardly checked my watch at all to see how long I’d been running, and let me tell you, I checked my watch a million times during training, that’s how much I hated it.  So I feel like that in itself is an accomplishment.

This is me, shortly after crossing the finish line.

(Edited to add:  Thanks, Julie!)  I could not believe I did it, that I really ran the whole thing, but I did!  The whole time I kept saying, “Just don’t quit.  You can do it, just keep moving.”  The time was not important to me, I just wanted to run the whole thing.  And I did.

I want to thank all of you for your encouragement since March when I first joined Team GDT.  It’s been great sharing the training journey with you, and I appreciate both the monetary and emotional support I’ve received more than I can say.  Let’s do it again next year.

P.S. (One of the girls on the team says she has a picture of me near the finish line and she’s going to email it to me.  Once she does, I’ll post it here.)

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Boston or Bust

Melanie

She said, I think I’ll go to Boston
Think I’ll start a new life
I think I’ll start all over
where no one knows my name
– Augustana, Boston

So, it’s nearly here. The 2008 Race for the Cure is this Sunday. I leave for Boston in the morning. I have not started packing, and I may have to take more than I planned, what with remnants of Hurricane Hanna set to hit Boston Saturday and Sunday. But no matter: I’m ready.

When I joined Team GDT in March, this weekend seemed so very far away, and yet the five intervening months have kind of flown by. I really am so excited to meet all of the other women on the team; I’ve never met any of them in person, though I already count many of them among my friends – you might know Lydia, Julie, MB, and Jane from the comments, too. This weekend promises to be the culmination of lots of hard work by 50 or so dedicated women, nine of whom decided five years ago that they could make a difference in the lives of women and men with breast cancer and their families and started Team GDT. I’m so proud to be among them this year.

Money-wise, I met and exceeded both my initial goal of $500 and my increased goal of $750, thanks in part to many of you, and I am so grateful for your support in making my first year with Team GDT so successful. As of today, the Team as a whole has raised nearly $51,000, which is an astonishing amount of money for a cause that is very important to me and my family personally, as it is for so many (too many) of the women on the Team.

Sunday morning at 9, I’ll be running (hopefully) alongside women and men from all over, including breast cancer survivors and those who have lost friends and family to this disease, an experience which people tell me is profoundly moving. I’ll be thinking of my mother and wearing her name, eternally grateful that my family has been lucky and successful in its fight against breast cancer. I’ll be part of a group of women who have given so much, year after year, to help create a world where every woman and every family is as lucky and successful as my mother and my family. I’ll be among friends, amazing women who inspire me every day with their dedication, humor, spirit, and loyalty.

Wish us luck.

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Am I the Worst Blogger Ever, or What?

Melanie

Friendship, like love, is destroyed by long absence, though it may be increased by short intermissions.
— Samuel Johnson

Wow.  So, so sorry about the long absence.  I trust you guys know how it is in the beginning of some relationships, when you want to be together all the time, and other things – even things that were important to you before – fall by the wayside a little bit.  That’s what it’s been like for me these past (almost) 4 weeks now (holy crap, is that really possible?  Doesn’t seem that long).  I think that’s the eternal struggle in a relationship, too, trying not to lose yourself, trying to still be a one even when you’re part of a two.  That’s important to me – I spent a LONG time alone figuring out who I am, and I don’t want to lose that in all of this, as good as all of this is – and I need to do better at saving some time just for me.  So again, I apologize.  I’ve missed you guys around here, but if you have a blog, I promise I’ve been keeping up with you via Reader.

So what’s new?  Well, I saw the Braves play the Nats Saturday night, and – surprise, surprise – they lost, AGAIN.  That is it.  I officially give up.  Every effing time I see them in person, they lose.  What gives?  They were winning into the 6th, and then the wheels came off and it went to extra innings, and with the game tied, 2 outs, bases loaded, full count, the Braves WALKED IN THE WINNING RUN.  Of all the humiliating ways to lose a game, a walkoff walk is right up there.  Ugh.  At least I looked totally cute in my new Brian McCann jersey, though.

Also, during warm-ups, I got as close to my ultimate baseball fantasy as I’m ever likely to:

My two baseball boyfriends, Brian McCann and Mike Hampton, together in one photo.  The only word for that is Yum.

Sunday we went down to Richmond for the penultimate Richmond Braves game ever at The Diamond.

The city won’t build a new stadium, so the big Braves are moving their Triple AAA club to Gwinnet, Georgia, and it’s the end of an era in Richmond.  David and I met Karen and baby Caroline (who really isn’t a baby anymore, even if she still is practically bald) and Nate and the Princess (who was attending her first ever baseball game) on a lovely afternoon.

We spent a couple of hours cheering on the R-Braves, who accomplished what their big league brethren can’t be bothered to while I’m in attendance: they won.  And the atmosphere was fantastic – the crowd was enthusiastic, there were families everywhere, the players were happy, the sun was shining – you really couldn’t have asked for a better day.

There’s more to tell and I hope to get at least one more post up before the weekend, but I just wanted to check in and let you all know I’m not dead!  Thanks for your patience!

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Best. Weekend. Ever.

Melanie

“Real life hardly ever does it the way you want to tell it later.”
— Alice, in Range of Motion, by Elizabeth Berg

But sometimes it does.

Now I promise my blog is not going to become all “I’m in love” all the time, but you guys, I am, and I had the best weekend of my life this past weekend. We spent most of last weekend together, and many nights last week, just hanging out, running errands, and watching the Olympics, but it was very casual and low key, for various reasons.  All of last week,  though, he kept telling me how he was planning our first real date for Friday night and that I should dress up (which is code for “Wear the dress that started all of this”), and that he thought I would really love the restaurant he chose, and that he was going to come pick me up and come to the door and everything.  He also told me about 10 times that he’d already picked out the shirt he was going to wear and that he thought I’d really like it, but that he wanted to buy new pants.  It was so adorable.  Saturday, he said, would be more casual, and he told me about the restaurant beforehand and let me pick a movie.

So Friday came and we rode the train home together, but each of us went to our own apartments to get ready.  Around 8, he rang my doorbell, and I opened it shyly, and there he was, holding a single red rose (he’d brought me daisies last weekend) and looking so handsome in a white button down shirt with different colored blue stripes and new gray pants.  I invited him in and gave him a kiss (or two or three, you know), and we just stood there grinning stupidly at each other (which happens a lot actually; we’re kind of dorks that way).  He told me I looked great and we kissed some more and then we drove to the restaurant.  As we got out of the car, he said, “We parked a little ways from the restaurant, and for good reason.”  And as we walked out of the shadow of a building into the square, he pointed and said, “Full moon.”

As we walked to the restaurant, my heels kept getting stuck in the cobblestones (that’ll teach me), and he kept catching me so I wouldn’t fall.  When we got to the restaurant, I didn’t look at the outside of it very closely because I thought I knew what it was, but it turned out I was wrong.  When we got to our table and I looked at the menu, I realized he had chosen a Spanish restaurant . . .  I can’t really explain the feeling I got, but I knew that he’d chosen it on purpose because he remembered that I had studied in Spain twice and loved it so much, and he wanted to take me to a place that would remind me of it.  Have I mentioned that I love him?

He studied the wine list – he’s very into wine and I know nothing, though he’s trying to teach me – and ordered a bottle of Rioja.  When the waiter brought the bottle, he did the whole, look at the bottle, nod approval at the waiter, swirl the wine in the glass, smell it, swish it around in his mouth, swallow it, and nod again for the waiter to pour our glasses – I kind of watched him and seeing him do all that made me smile so big.  The wine was lovely, and we ordered lots of tapas and ate and talked and drank for what seemed like hours, but was really probably only and hour and a half or so.  If I tell you the big thing he said to me over dinner, you’ll think we’re crazy, so I won’t (yet, probably), but that was definitely the best meal of my life.

Afterwards, we walked down to the waterfront.  It was a perfect night: full moon, just the right temperature, breezy.  We walked along the water, then stopped to watch the planes (or to kiss, but who’s keeping track, really?) and just talk some more.  Finally, we headed back to the car, and just before we got there, we stopped to kiss, and the combination of my 4-inch heels on cobblestone, his big feet, the wine, and the sudden stop led to our feet getting tangled and his foot landed on mine and broke the toenail of my big toe pretty far down the nail bed.  It hurt like crap, but we kissed anyway, and it was only after I got in the car that I realized I was bleeding.  Yikes.  He kept apologizing, but I told him not to worry because it’s going to be the funny part of the story of our otherwise perfect first date.

Saturday afternoon, I picked him up and we went to see Pineapple Express.  It was the captioned movie last week, and I worried that he would think that was weird, but he says he doesn’t mind at all.  The movie was so, so funny.  I love Seth Rogen, and James Franco was as good as advertised.  We laughed so much, though we don’t need a movie to do that.  Then we went to Rustico for beer and pizza, though I had a burger.  He had a double chocolate stout (which I didn’t hate), and I had a Hawaiian pale ale of some sort, which was pretty good.  We talked about the inanity of the parents of three at a nearby table who’d brought a portable DVD player for the kids (all under 4) to watch while they ate dinner – why bring your kids out if you’re not interested in interacting with them?  Get a baby-sitter, for crying out loud.  Anyway, we talked about our families and discovered that Thanksgiving is our favorite holiday, and agreed that we don’t have to do Valentine’s Day.

Next, we drove to Gravelly Point, which is a park on the water near the airport.  We sat and watched the planes take off, which put this song in my head, and held hands and talked – we can talk forever.  Then we walked a ways down the path, quizzing each other on whether we’d leave each other for various outlandish infractions.  The verdict: I have to stay with him if he just gets indicted for a felony, but I can leave him if he gets convicted.  I can’t remember what he’s allowed to leave me for; prostitution, I think.

Then we came back to my place for chocolate milk (just one of many things that one of us has mentioned to which the other one has said, “I love ___,” eliciting a kiss from the first one – it’s eerie, really) for dessert, then some beer and Olympics watching.

Sunday, we had tentative plans to get a little bit out of town, but we were lazy lazy lazy in the morning, so I just cooked him breakfast – pancakes and bacon – and then dropped him off so he could do stuff around his house, and I did my own errands.  Around 5, he picked me up and we went to the wine store and the grocery store, then to his place, where he cooked for me for the first time – a delicious chicken stir fry.  He takes such good care of me.  We sat on the balcony for a little while, drinking wine and enjoying the night, then came in to watch Mad Men.  He indulges my furious girl crush on Christina Hendricks, who plays Joan – he says it means he can cheat on me with her even if she’s not on his List, because I couldn’t possibly blame him.  I’m not sure he’s wrong.  But when I turned the tables and said I can do the same with George Clooney then, because he LOVES George, he wasn’t so happy.  I’d actually rather have Joan.

So there you go.  That’s my idea of a perfect weekend.  He did such a good job planning Friday and Saturday – Friday especially – and just being with him, doing the things we’d do anyway, but doing them together, is all I ever wanted.

But now I’ve got to plan a weekend for him.  Good thing I have about a month til we have a free weekend all to ourselves again.