The sad truth is that nothing is the same.

I'll preface this post by saying that I was lucky enough to spend a week in Norway in 2005. I was taking tourism marketing classes abroad outside of London when a few friends and I decided to visit my extended family in Oslo and another little coastal town.

Oddly enough, the day after classes started in London on July 5, 2005, the city erupted in a terrorist attack of its own. I wrote a little about that here and also wrote a column when I was still in college about it, in The Plainsman. I'm going to post the clip as soon as I find it.

Aside from Norway being an obscenely cheap flight on Ryan Air, and the lovely family I had to visit there, another big draw to visiting the city was its relative safety. With London and Madrid both experiencing devastating attacks within a year of each other, Scandinavia seemed blissfully off the grid. And it was - absolutely lovely.

We went sailing in beautiful weather to different spots on the coast. We stayed up until midnight with with brightly lit skies and went sailing in the middle of the night. We ate seafood stew and amazing cheese and caught up with relatives. One of the absolute highlights of my trip was visiting downtown Oslo. My cousins - aside from looking like European royalty - were incredibly welcoming hosts. They took us all over - we saw the government buildings that were attacked Friday, the national museum, the royal palace and lots of gorgeous parks and green spaces with the most amazing public sculptures.

I hate that this happened in Oslo. Just like I hate that it happened in NYC and London and Madrid. Regardless of whether it's Norway's Oklahoma City (which it clearly was) or Norway's 9/11, the fact still remains that we live in trying times. No country is immune and no population is safe. It's a bit of a dark thought, but true nonetheless. Norway, I am thinking of you and remembering the amazing experience I had.

I hate it that there are so many bitterly opposing (and alarmingly drastic) opinions at play there - and in so many places, in Europe, here, everywhere... I hate it that this happened to your beautiful country, and mostly, I hope that this doesn't change the overall open, accepting nature of your people.

Things that glow

One of my absolute favorite things about summertime in the South is the lightning bugs. We had them in Southern California, too - they were called fireflies there - but I don't think they came out at night en masse like they do down here.

Last weekend I was in D.C. celebrating the fourth. We were on the way to a cookout when we drove by an empty lot between houses that was completely alight with the incandescent insects. I love phosphorescence in all of its forms, and that's what this post is all about.

Also handy because then I don't have to talk about my job search or the fact that J currently lives hundreds of miles away...
Synchronized fireflies (ahem, lightning bugs) in the Smokey Mountains of north Tennessee and North Carolina.
I originally saw this piece in Southern Living yesterday in the dentist's office (heh) but since I couldn't find that article online, here's the phenomenon covered in the New York Times.

Basically, a whole slew of male lightning bugs blink in unison in order to attract females. Apparently it's like a symphony of lights. Not sure if it impresses their women, but I would love to see this. The NYT piece covers the bugs in Elkmont, Tenn., during the first two weeks in June.

The Dismalites of Dismal's Canyon outside of Phil Campbell, Ala.

Dismal's Canyon is also where they filmed the backdrop for When Dinosaurs Roamed the Earth on the Discovery channel

I actually have seen the dismalites before. We had a group trip in 2009 to see them and enjoy the canyon for a weekend. They have campsites as well as a couple of lovely cabins and a swimming hole. The canyon (and the dismalites) are the major attractions, though.

You go on a guided tour after dark in the summertime to see the tiny bioluminescent worms. Gajillions (this is an official count) of Dismalites light up the sides of the cave walls like a starry sky.

image via

Also, Dismal's Canyon is home to Burr's Hideout - apparently where Aaron Burr hid out for days after he shot Alexander Hamilton. Lots of old graffiti on the rocks too. Definitely worth a visit.

Cave graffiti at Dismal's dating from 1936

Phosphorescent plankton on the beach at Dauphin Island, Ala.
I've been fortunate enough to see this one, too, as a part of a field studies class I took my senior year of high school to Dauphin Island Sea Lab. My friend, Dustin of Spawning is Imminent (why can't I find your blog anymore, Dustin? Please explain this to me) was lucky enough to study there for a summer in college.

At any rate, it was amazing - standing in the complete dark and kicking up the sand in the surf. The entire area surrounding your toes lighting up as you disrupt the plankton.

Dauphin Island is a barrier island and quite remote - not very many city lights. So serene, and the glowing sand makes the experience otherworldly. I'd love to go back. No photos, unfortunately.

This completes my shortlist of favorite things that glow. I have no idea why I found it necessary to write this post.

the water pilgrimage.

I just had the weird sensation of realizing that someone has been observing my daily habits, finding them unusual and trying to help me be a little more normal.

Let me explain.

I work in a really really super nice building.

The nicest building I've ever worked in over the (short) span of my working career thus far. When I move and continue working other places, it'll still probably be the nicest facility I'll have ever worked in. There's glass everywhere. Shiny marble. Fabulous modern furnishings in a four-story atrium and a little cafe serving breakfast and lunch.


There are scores of support staff that man that cafe and clean the building (including the bathrooms, all of them, at least three or four times a day.) It's ridiculous. But I am not complaining - it's also lovely.

Anyway. I have these habits. I think they're good ones. I drink a ton of water. Possibly a gallon a day; not entirely sure. I used to go fill up my trusty plastic cup at the water fountain right by my office. One day, or operations director saw me and said (I kid you not), "WHY, pray tell, are you drinking out of the water fountain?! You do realize that we have nice, filtered, refrigerator water in the break room across the atrium, don't you?"

Well, no I didn't, actually. But I guess since the water fountain is off limits (except for guests - they don't get the good stuff?), I'll start walking across the way for my many times daily fill-up.

So, for the past year or so, I've been trekking across the atrium, from my office to the break room across the way to fill up my water cup. I've really started to enjoy it - my office is nice as far as offices go. I have a secondary window that looks out on to a hallway, through another office and finally out an outside window. I get light of day, indirectly. I have a door. But the atrium. You saw the photo. Now, it's a break I look forward to - getting up, stretching my legs, checking out the action in the atrium (that's where visitors come) and enjoying the full sunshine you see in the fully glassed-in area. Plus, I walk like, half a mile a day, to and fro between office and break room.

This morning, my little routine was interrupted by a really pleasant lady who works in the cafe.

"I see you walking way over there at least 25 times a day," she says. "You know the cafe water is triple-filtered, right? And cold? Why don't you just come get your water from the kitchen?" She says this all very patiently, as I'm obviously a tad slow to be walking a half mile per day just for water.

So anyway, I feel obligated to explain to her that I skip the water fountain because I was encouraged to drink the filtered water. I'm not a water snob, I insist. A little fluoride is good for a person.

In summary:

• Water fountain (is less than) filtered breakroom water (is less than) super awesome triple filtered chilled cafe water.
  
• I am a weirdo who drinks way too much water, walks too far for it and thinks she's too good for the water fountain.
• We have entirely too many water options. I mean, seriously.
  

Sigh. Sometimes I wish I could just be odd in peace without people noticing my little quirks and trying to help me out. Although, it is kind of touching that they care.

And, I apologize for sharing the weird again. I do think this little exercise will help dissolve the writer's block I've been experiencing while writing pages for our annual report. So this has been beneficial after all. I think I need a water break first, though...

OH! And so this isn't a total loss. I give you, Barcelona:

EF - Live The Language - Barcelona from Albin Holmqvist on Vimeo.

Hm. This isn't my favorite of the series but it still makes me insanely travel-jealous. We wanted to go here for our honeymoon but realized that there was a bit of a cash flow issue for a weeklong (or more) Euro trip. We had the best vacation we've ever had in Vegas, thanks to a family friend. But Barcelona is still on the bucket list. And it sure would be nice to go there while I still look decent in a swimsuit. Although, I'm pretty sure I never looked like the girl in the video. Seesh.

Voyage

I love the holidays. But, as I'm sure is the case for many people, they are bittersweet. In addition to the joy I feel being around loved ones and eating food and looking at lights and glittery paper and ribbons, I also reflect on those lost. Bittersweet. On my way into work this morning, I heard this poem and it rung so true. Anyway, not much more from me today, just this:

Voyage

by Tony Hoagland

I feel as if we opened a book about great ocean voyages
and found ourselves on a great ocean voyage:
sailing through December, around the horn of Christmas
and into the January Sea, and sailing on and on

in a novel without a moral but one in which
all the characters who died in the middle chapters
make the sunsets near the book's end more beautiful.

—And someone is spreading a map upon a table,
and someone is hanging a lantern from the stern,
and someone else says, "I'm only sorry
that I forgot my blue parka; It's turning cold."

Sunset like a burning wagon train
Sunrise like a dish of cantaloupe
Clouds like two armies clashing in the sky;
Icebergs and tropical storms,
That's the kind of thing that happens on our ocean voyage—

And in one of the chapters I was blinded by love
And in another, anger made us sick like swallowed glass
& I lay in my bunk and slept for so long,

I forgot about the ocean,
Which all the time was going by, right there, outside my cabin window.

And the sides of the ship were green as money,
and the water made a sound like memory when we sailed.

Then it was summer. Under the constellation of the swan,
under the constellation of the horse.

At night we consoled ourselves
By discussing the meaning of homesickness.
But there was no home to go home to.
There was no getting around the ocean.
We had to go on finding out the story
by pushing into it—

The sea was no longer a metaphor.
The book was no longer a book.
That was the plot.
That was our marvelous punishment.

"Voyage" by Tony Hoagland, from Hard Rain. © Hollyridge Press, 2005. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

Interestingly enough, my granddad was a ship captain. So was my uncle before he retired. My dad was in the Navy too. In her early twenties, Mom sailed from L.A. to Australia on the beginning of her great adventure that eventually led her to my dad in Spain.

My uncle posted this photo on his Facebook sometime this summer... it's of him on his ship in Vietnam. He met up with my dad there - he's in the reflection.

Granddad had Alzheimer's and many of my more vivid memories of him were in this state since I was old enough to remember. He told this amazing story about when he first left Norway to work on a ship, they still sailed on masted sailing ships. I'm sure it was part of some sort of hazing ritual, but when he was young, they dared him to climb up to the uppermost mast and balance there, entire ship and ocean below, on his belly. Crazy. Crazy what you remember when everything else is gone... Crazy how many life-changing moments in my family, on both sides, began with a ship.

so i guess this is growing up...

Channeling that Dammit this morning... it's an angsty, why won't anything go right, why can't I get a leg up, why don't the grown-ups understand me, Blink-182 kind of a morning.

Hmphhh.

Car is overheating... just had to take it to the repair shop. Looks like my trusty Camry may be biting the dust. As much as I'd love a new (to me) Mini Cooper, I was truly hoping that I could make the current car last quite a bit longer. You know, save up for something nice. Jonathan suggested holding off till we figure out where we'll be when he graduates in December. If the new locale is urban, we forget cars altogether and get a set of Vespas.

Also, if you'd like to call and commiserate, or perhaps to offer to meet for drinks to drown my sorrows (and yours, if you're having any) don't bother! My phone doesn't work either! That's right. iPhones malfunctioning are actually quite humorous. Very "Danger Will Robinson! Danger!" short. short. buzz. blink. flash. blank screen. I would be chuckling a bit more about it if I didn't actually need my phone.

So, anyway, here ends the whiny portion of this blog post. I've come up with a solution. I'm going to simplify my life.

If you would like to talk to me, please invest in a fire pit for your back yard and brush up on your smoke signals. I'll also be accepting telegraphs and telepathic messages.

If I need to get in touch with you, I will be using the Pony Express. Or telepathic messages. Maybe I'll just show up at your house. I'll do my best to judge when you might be home, but if you're not there, I'll hang out in your neighborhood Starbucks. Or make friends with your neighbors. I've been meaning to be more friendly with neighbors, too...

I still plan to go to work, when I can hitch a ride, or when I feel up to biking. I've been meaning to take this getting into shape thing more seriously and biking 10 miles to and from work every day (weather and mood permitting) will really expedite this process, don't you think? The days I really can't stomach the ol' bicycle and nobody is headed my way on I-565, I'll just work from home. You know, with my quill and ink, since my personal computer is also from 2002 and going the way of the dinosaur.

I think that this plan should work out really well for me. Why do we need to constantly upgrade, anyway? What if all of these things breaking at once is actually a sign from above that I should slow down, simplify, be more green?

I'll start growing a garden with seeds that I'll take from my neighbors' plot (we'll be on speaking terms since I'll have taken the time to introduce myself after two years.) I'll cook like a locavore, i.e., I'll cook using what I can buy from Star Market (it's walkable!) and what friends bring to my house. I'll learn an instrument in my free time since I won't be rushing all over town to meet friends places. Hell, I might even save that gas money I'd have been using and take a big air trip every year or so. J can come too.

Well, good. It's decided then. Should my car cost more than, oh, $300 to fix, I'll just put my blinker on and turn out of the fast lane to start living my life as I've detailed above.

You'd all still be friends with me if I looked like this girl, right?


She's kind of cute in a "let's sing folk tunes by the fire" sort of way...

And again, if you need to contact me, please write down my coordinates for future reference: 34.745955,-86.555981. That is all.

Well, this basically sums up my writing mentality...

I saw this via Frank Chimero via someone else on Twitter. I just read a few of his posts today and am already quite enjoying what he enjoys. And how he writes about what we both seem to enjoy.

Anyway, there was a link from a completely unrelated post of his (which contained someone else's description of a meal at el Buli, I don't even know what the post was about, I was completely beside-myself distracted by that description...But I digress! Whyyyyy is the internet so convoluted? If you already struggle with tendencies that could be alarmingly similar to ADD, it's quite difficult to finish even one article or post (or, ahem, action item) without falling into a rabbit hole of other fascinating information.)

Here's the link that I liked. This is how I write, and I had been feeling sort of like a lazy grammar slouch for not caring more about keeping up on that stuff. But now someone on the internet has vindicated me. Post below:

‘That’s not what I was taught at school’ are words we hear a lot. We’re always using our unrules to undo the things people were taught to do (and not to do) in the classroom. It’s strange, writing at primary school is all about stories, being creative and enjoying what you write. By the time you get to GCSEs you're clinically unpicking why a poem works instead of saying why you like it (and you're living in fear of red pen). Writing at school should get your brain buzzing, not be a chore. So things are changing starting here.

Five Unrules:

5. Write short or ‘fragmented’ sentences. Ignore Microsoft Word’s green squiggly line. A sentence can have seven words. Or two. It’s up to you. Play with the length of your sentences to add pace and rhythm to your words.

4. Split infinitives. They can be clunky but they’re not grammatically incorrect.

3. Use contractions (eg that’s instead of that is). They’re a good way to make your writing sound more personal.

2. Don’t sign off letters with ‘Yours Sincerely if you know the person you’re writing to or ‘Yours Faithfully’ if you don’t. ‘Yours Sincerely?’ It’s 2010. You don’t need to use stuffy formality like this anymore (or start letters with ‘Dear Sir’ or ‘Dear Sir / Madam’ for that matter).

1. And you can start a sentence with ‘and’ or ‘but’. We just did.

And a bonus rule from Kurt Vonnegut:

‘Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college.’

I totally agree that you should write how you speak. That is, if people find you funny or interesting in the least. If it ain't broke, why fix it?

The Video Post.

I came across (or rediscovered) three videos today that are inspiring in one way or another. I try not to limit my online sharing to things that I find inherently awesome and that I am relatively sure you - or some portion of you - will find awesome in some way as well.

So, first - WaPo (whose subsidiary, Slate, is one of my favorite sources for news and commentary) with their Scene In series - this one is Union Station, but I love the Dupont Circle one, too. Makes me really miss the district. I particularly love the dapper guy with the monogrammed cufflinks (he reminds me of my boss while I worked there) and the two little girls with the magic tape.

Unfortunately, this one won't let me embed - but visit the link, it's totally worth it.

WaPo also announces the new Pantone color of the year in the Styles section - Which, as it happens, has been my color of the year every year since, oh, 1999. Delightful!


O.K. Next video. The following two are of a similar, slam poetry ilk. Typography was brought to my attention by my old Auburn prof, Robert, who was linked to it by a current student. It's fun staying in touch with people who, without social networks, would likely be lost in space until some big reunion year, if that. Yay for the internet.

Also, I am totally guilty of what this video is railing against, you know? (heh.)

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

Lastly, Canada! I've been completely fixated on Canadia with the start of the Winter Olympics, gobbling up Slate's Five Ring Circus coverage, and generally contemplating what it means to be sort of Canadian. (If you are not aware, my mom is a Canadian citizen. She married my dad in the seventies and after a stint abroad, moved to the U.S. She's been living here for 30+ years; never naturalized. Our little - legal - alien.) It's interesting, because aside from a visit every year or two, I haven't really explored that part of my identity. Probably why I'm so interested in people's takes on the Canadian people and their culture and lifestyle.

Which leads me to Shane Koyczan's take on his mother country in We Are More, which was commissioned by the Canadian Tourism Commission and was used in the Olympic Opening Ceremonies.



So, these are an assembly of things that I have been enjoying lately. Anything good I've been missing out on?

OCTOBER?! REALLY?

A new low for length between blog posts. This is pathetic. I'm officially the worst. blogger. ever.

Truth is, I spend so much time banging away at the computer for work (we launched a new Drupal Web site in July, and I've been messing with that, oh, forever. Most recently incorporating an intranet for internal users) that I am pretty much over it by the time it comes to anything else.

What's been going on, other than computers? Not much, BUT...

• I did go to the Salesforce conference in San Francisco in November. Amazing trip, both personally and professionally. I was able to meet up with my aunt and uncle which was a blast - lots of amazing food, a performance of Wicked, and a really appreciated mini family reunion. The Salesforce conference itself signified a looong road ahead of more Web wrangling. This time trying to integrate our relationship management system (Salesforce) with an eCommerce element that has yet to be chosen and the Drupal site. Oof. Equally as disturbing - J and I watched Up in the Air in the theater a month or so ago and the whole sequence where they crash the corporate conference was eerily reminiscent of the San Fran conference. Those conferences are ridiculous.
  
• Christmas and New Year were awesome. Lots of amazing food and really nice times with everyone. Added some new ornaments to the collection and about 33 more strings of lights. Our living room was pretty reminiscent of Vegas. Which was delightful. Coming to find out I'm not really strong on restraint when it comes to home decor. Had great visits with long-lost, out-of-town friends. Ahem, Dustin.
  
• The weather sucks. No, really. I'm so ready for spring and a bachelorette weekend to the beach for umbrella drinks and excessive sunning that I can't stand it. Damn you, Puxatawney Phil. Which reminds me of a good one I heard recently. "They should re-release Groundhog Day and call it Groundhog Day 2."
• Wedding planning continues. I'm having way too much fun on ETSY.
  

There's lots more, but this is a good start for now, no? Zero to... one in three months. I'll work on improving. No promises, but perhaps this will get me kick started again.

The Patrick Swayze edition.

I have a great deal of faith in faith; if you believe something strongly enough, it becomes true for you. I would like to believe [...] that there's life after death -- because if there isn't, why are we here? I don't believe that just flesh and bones can contain from the point of view of physics this very real recorded energy inside of us. Whether it's true or not, we need to believe it.

...Said Swayze in his June 2009 interview with Barbara Walters - the first one he ever gave after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

He was facing the cancer that kills four out of five people who are diagnosed with the disease within a year. He was skinnier than I have ever seen him on T.V. or in the movies - frail and jaundiced looking. Terrifying. And terrifyingly familiar.

Every time someone notable is diagnosed with the cancer that killed my dad, I can't help compulsively following the story.

Randy Pausch - the college professor who wrote The Last Lecture, becoming a YouTube and Oprah phenomenon before passing away this summer. Whose book my friend has loaned but which I have yet gotten the guts to read.




Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

There's also this guy on the radio, former journalist Leroy Sievers (had to look him up to remember his name) who I used to listen to talk about cancer in my car in DC and cry on my way to painting class in Alexandria.

And now, Swayze. Star of two of my absolute favorite movies as a kid - Dirty Dancing and Ghost. And of two of J's favorite movies - Point Break and Roadhouse (har har).

There's something cathartic about reliving stories like my dad's over and over again. Feeling the punch in the gut and the subsequent lost of wind to the lungs of hearing another person to have pancreatic cancer. Watching the news and RSS feeds for any news of the person's condition to hear how they're battling with the disease. Grieving all over again when the inevitable news of their death makes the papers.

And for me, casually asking the scientists and grant writers at the institute if they're ever going to do work on pancreatic cancer. There was a grant apparently, but it didn't go through.

I guess that's part of it - telling your story over and over again in the hopes that someday it will all make sense, then seeking out others like you who are going through the same scenario. And watching. And waiting. And wondering if this will be the person who triumphs over the disease.

According to the American Cancer Society, for all stages of pancreatic cancer combined, the one-year relative survival rate is 20 percent, and the five-year rate is four percent. And if Patrick Swayze can't make it, things don't look so good for less visible patients.

What a downer.

Something happened today, though. A group of Clearview Cancer Institute volunteers toured the institute came to tour. During my time with them, I learned that all of the group members are either cancer survivors or caretakers of those with cancer. And they are touring the institute learning what work we're doing here in the laboratory is on it's way to their clinic. This made me feel good - and also interested in looking into volunteering at CCI. More on that as I find out.

In lieu of favors at our wedding, J and I will be making a donation to the American Cancer Society for our loved ones lost, my dad and his grandmother who died of brain cancer a few years ago. A friend walked for my dad over the summer in a Relay for Life in Ohio and sent photos of his luminaries along the track. Things like these help; and talking, and following the stories of others.

If you ever want to hear about my dad sometime, ask me. I'll gladly tell you all about him. Or tell me about your story. Something about the telling and re-telling helps us process, I think.

I want to have a co-ed Patrick Swayze movie-viewing party to honor the life of another who should be celebrated for his living accomplishments more than the grace with with he faced death.

Yeaaaaah Swayze:

Miscellany

Hello there, blog.

I seem to be leaving you in the lurch all the time lately, don't I? I really do feel guilty on one level. But on another, a neglected blog means a busy and full real life. So yeah. That's a good thing. What have I been up to...

View from a deck at the event space.

Lots of tours and layout and web at work. Lots of plotting and scheming outside of work for this little event we have coming up in May. Got quite an impressive amount of work done this week on that front.

• Ordered a wedding dress
  
• Picked a venue (um, gorgeous?!)
• Ordered bridesmaid dresses (Aqua on super sale at J.Crew. I am trying to be a good, recession-conscious, bargain savvy friend...) The J.Crew customer service rep informed me via email how nice "my girls" are to work with and how great my friends are. I couldn't agree more, Veronica. But hearing someone else appreciate them in the way I do makes me feel even better.
• Made an appointment for deposits on the food, photographer and venue.

I am so looking forward to this low-key, understated (gorgeous, fun) observation of the start of our marriage and most of all recognizing this huge event in our lives with our nearest and dearest: Veronica's "best friends ever" and family from all over. And family friends.

We start "how-to-handle-your money-now-that-you're-attached-forever-and-ever classes" early next month and pastoral counseling sessions start in December. Is it strange that I'm looking forward to this? I guess these are so attractive to me because I really feel like we're entering into this with eyes open, and minds open. Ready to not just love each other unconditionally and eat lots o' good food, but aware and ready for the real world stuff. The paying off grad school loans and saving for retirement stuff.

Can't remember who - whether it was mom, dad or both, who always said something to the effect of, "money can't buy you happiness, but a lack of it can make you miserable." I want us to be real happy, like comfortable in our lives happy. And I have faith that this will come together for us. With lots of work at it.

Hrm. Aside from financial rants, other interesting things -

Headed to San Francisco in November! I booked airline tickets yesterday and will be spending some time out West. Half with the fam and the rest at a Dreamforce conference. Exciting.

Also, my friend Michelle started a blog! She's too cute and I loved her inaugural post about creative uses for leftovers. Totally keeping an eye out on her for posts like this... extremely useful. She's an entertaining writer, too. Check her out!

Still totally enjoying Glee. For those who haven't watched yet, please do. I am aware that I have a fixation with anything dance and/or musical-related and that not everyone dies over SYTYCD like I do. I can honestly say that this show will be a perfect Wednesday night pick-me-up for anyone. Musically inclined or no. Campy and hilarious. And current/relevant. Quality viewing.

Heading to the Monte Sano art fair this weekend. I love it up there (even more now... :) and the art show is always a blast. It's become one of the first signs of fall here, probably because it's a bit cooler up on the mountain... delightful.

So, blog, again - I apologize for the abandonment. But as you can see, I've been a busy lady. I think less frequent, more action-packed posts are acceptable. And they are going to have to work for a while. This is a fun hobby. Not another job duty. Thankfully.

Paradores!

Hi. I haven't posted since June 25. Holy crap. I need to pick up the pace. So here begins a spate of new posts.

I recently got engaged to a fabulous guy. One of my favorite things about him is his willingness to check out uncharted territories. He's a great traveler too - good sense of direction, go with the flow attitude about experiences - which makes life awesome. What bugs both of us is that we have never been on a large scale adventure together. I've spent the summer in London, visited Norway and Paris, all while in college studying abroad. He's been to China, seen pandas and walked the Great Wall, all with other friends while I worked in DC.

Naturally, we want to have our first major adventure together for our honeymoon. I'm thinking a tour of the Spanish paradores.

Paradores de Turismo de España are a chain of Spanish luxury hotels. They were founded by Alfonso XIII of Spain as a means to promote tourism in Spain, with the first opening in Gredos, Ávila in 1928.

A profitable state-run enterprise, the hotels are often in castles, palaces, fortresses, convents, monasteries and other historic buildings. They stretch from Galicia in the North West through Catalonia to Andalusia in the south of Spain, the Canary Islands and to the Spanish cities in North Africa. (Thanks, Wikipedia)

My parents met in the south of Spain. My mom was traveling with girlfriends, fresh off of a stint in Australia and my dad was stationed in Rota, Spain with the U.S. Navy post-Vietnam. They knew each other for approximately three months before my mom went off to Norway on a road trip with my dad's cousin. When she returned (by plane) he greeted her at the airport, and there it was decided that they'd get married.

So, Spain has definite appeal to me. What better place to start a marriage, than the Mediterranean coast? And on top of that, in the country where my parents met, and kicked off a happy 30-year marriage? There must be something in the water there.

My parents always used to talk about driving up the coast and having fancy dinners at the paradores - paella and fresh fish. Yum. And it looks like they're still at it with the food (uh, YUM!?)

The other day I began my online parador research and discovered the amazing, comprehensive and completely tantalizing Web site. Seriously considering going to the courthouse to push this marriage thing through so we can honeymoon next week. Ha. There will be some saving of the money before any of that happens, though. But if we do decide to go this route, I will have a goal to push me through the bitter Alabama winter: sunny May skies in Spain. :)

Here's what I'm thinking for the vacay: the site offers rates for routes, scheduled for either three or seven days. (Hello, did I not say that their site is amazingly comprehensive? It's an internet planning addict's dream). All of the routes are themed - culture, nature, WINE, legacy trails through other cultures... Anyway, one of the seven-nighters is a coastal trail. All the way from the northeast corner of Spain, down the Mediterranean coast to the southern tip.

They say on the site that this route takes visitors to some of the best beaches along the Mediterranean coast in Alicante, Murcia, Almería and Malaga. This area is well-known for its tourist attractions but still harbors many pleasant surprises.

I like it. Beach vacation plus culture in Spain. Beach honeymoon meets global trek. And they drive on the right side of the road, don't they?

Don't they??



By the way, I promise this isn't going to be a wedding planning blog from now until May. I have lots of other exciting stuff going on that I'll be posting about, including a Social South new media conference in Birmingham next Friday and Saturday and a trip to San Fran for the Dreamforce (Salesforce users) conference in November to learn how to integrate my work's Facebook, Twitter and other social media efforts with our Web site as well as with our non-profit Salesforce software. Interesting stuff. AND I just signed up for Santa's Village PR again. Whoooeeeee, here comes fall and winter. May will be here before I know it...

My 25-year life status report

This post needs a little back story:

My mom has her masters degree in counseling. As in, secondary school-age kid counseling. She's an education manager now, but she still has these pesky guidance counselor tendencies, and being the child of this made me the subject of lots of life goal related experiments...

Which brings me to life goals. Mom has never been the type to push my brother and I in any particular direction (we weren't expected to be virtuosos at the piano/violin/viola/fluglehorn/all of the above at age 2 1/2. Nor were we coached into oblivion at soccer/tennis/racketball practice. But mom did like for us to have goals. Not set in stone "I-WILL-be-a-hedge-fund-manager-making-six-figures-by-thirty" goals, but nice things that we'd like to achieve in our lives.

So, here's the card that mom had me create a long time ago and rediscovered during her kitchen remodel. I wish I'd dated it, because I can't recall exactly how old I was when I made this list. Judging by my handwriting, the fact that the pen was pink and my spelling... I was somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-12 years old. Classic.

For everyone's enjoyment, here's my quarter century check-in on my 11-year-old self's life goals. Let's see how I'm doing, shall we?I will answer them in the order in which they were originally penned (wonder if this was a prioritized list... it would be pretty darn random if it were.)

1. Speak Japanese: Negatory. I do remember dribs and drabs of my college level French. Heck I even conjugate french verbs in my head from time to time if I get bored. And I DO know how to order "two beers" in at least six different languages. Perhaps if I learn how to do that in Japanese I could partially claim this goal. (Nice! "Beer Please" in 26 languages?!) Japanese? Check. Bee-ru ip-pon ku-da-sai?
   
2. Be a better dancer: Awwww, this one is really sweet! At some point in my life, I reached for the stars, see?! Since this was written at age 11 - and I started dancing at age five and stopped at age 18 after high school (and Ann's Studio of Dance) graduation - I can fairly say that, yes, I believe I did become a better dancer! And while I was always more of a "let's stick her in the back because... she's tall" kind of a dancer, I do think I improved over the years. And while I may not be prima ballerina material, all of that dancing did make me a much better dancer at parties (woot!) and improved my overall posture and carriage, this was quite a good expenditure of so much of my time as a kid. Dancing? Check.
   
3. Be come (sic) an author of books: So, I might not have become an author, but my writing (and *ahem* spelling) skills sure have improved over the years! A couple of hardass English teachers in high school and Journalism 1100 at Auburn certainly did whip me into shape here. My first story as a volunteer for The Auburn Plainsman even made the front cover! One day I might even buckle down and attempt a novel... I'll get back to you on that part of this goal, but.... Writer? Check.
4. Learn more about geogaphry (sic): Again with the spelling! At least I improved upon that. Hmmm... geography improvement, hey? Well, I've been a lot of new places since age 11. I've visited Europe and hit many more states. I've become more and more aware where global places of interest are by following the news... and following the news is a good citizen thing to do, right? So. While it could use continued improvment, I have definitely learned more about "geogaphry". Geography? Check.
5. Get my bedroom painted: We didn't "paint" my bedroom, we did better. I somehow convinced my parents to put up a giant, full wall width mural of a deserted island beach on my bedroom wall. I managed to (a) get my mom on board with my rather out there decor scheme and (b) get my dad to actually put that puppy up on my wall. There were a lot of expletives coming from my bedroom that weekend. I'm obviously still using those persuasive skills I used to get what I wanted in a new field - PR! Perfect career choice for my skill set, I think! And, I still do enjoy design and again, can't wait to get my bedroom painted... in a house I own. I'm so tired of white rental house walls! Painting? Not exactly. But what I got was something much more involved and AWESOME. Bedroom? Check.
6. Have my own little garden: As in, not part of my mom's massive garden... hel-lo! And lo and behold - I DO have my own little garden! It's a rental house garden, i.e. all in pots and hanging baskets, but it's gorgeous, in full bloom this summer and I completed it myself! Nice one, Sollid. Garden? Check.
7. Be an "A" (scribbled out "B") student: BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. So, who wants to bet that my mom was looking over my shoulder on this one and encouraged me to reach even further for the stars? "Hmm, that's great Mel, but don't you think you could probably make all A's? We don't want you selling yourself short, now. This is a goal list, after all." So, thanks mom, for making me botch a goal. How's a B-and-a-half student? Half A's, half B's the occasional C in an Algebra course? I came out all right didn't I?! Geez. Decent student? Check. I'm giving myself this one. Argue with me. Dare ya.
8. Make two new friends: I've made WAY more than two new friends, but this is still one of my favorite things to do. I made all new friends when I moved away to D.C. and had to or totally forefeit a social life. I continued to make more new friends when I moved back to Huntsville as a part of the workforce and wanted to meet other young professionals (I hate that term, I need to coin a new, less yuppie-sounding one) like me. Thank God for friends, they make being a grownup bearable! Friends? Check.
   

Thanks, mom, for finding this note card. And for making me write it in the first place. I really like the person I was back then - in all of her spastic, nerdy, do-goody glory. And I especially like that, by reading back, I am coming to realize that I am still in a nutshell my 11-year-old self. Because she was pretty awesome.

It's not just me!

Stumbled across this article - How Bea Arthur helped my body image - today on HuffPo and cracked up.

Author Leslie Goldman writes in her piece about how even though she's not particular masculine or muscle-y, she's always identified herself with Arthur's character Dorothy on Golden Girls.

As a tall girl growing up, I often felt much...bigger. Bigger than the other girls, bigger than the boys, too big for tapered Guess jeans or cheerleading uniforms. And for some bizarre, warped reason, I always identified with Bea. I thought I looked like her. She was tall and slightly manly looking and when I watched her sipping coffee in her Florida kitchen, chastising Rose (who I now realize I am so like, it's scary) for making some inane St. Olaf remark, I thought, "That's what I look like. I'm going to wear shoulder pads and floor length caftans and look like Bea Arthur when I grow up." I am not fabricating this -- ask my mom or my husband. Of course, I could have looked to any number of tall actresses or models. Cindy Crawford, maybe? But my sweet little lost mind chose Bea.

I find this whole bit hilarious, mainly because I feel exactly the same way. The only difference is that this chick is 6'1 sometimes. In heels. Blake Lively is probably approximately the same. I, however, am six feet even. No shoes. If I bust out the hot shoes (or more likely borrow a friend's, because I rarely buy heels taller than three inches) and go out, I am positively ginormous. Like, 6'5, a-head-at-least-above-everyone-else-in-the-bar tall. Goldman hits the nail on the head when she brings up a Blake Lively interview:

I'm not alone in my Tall=Big Girl Syndrome. Recently, I read an interview with my Girl Crush, Blake Lively, in Allure, and was shocked (but strangely relieved) when she admitted, "I feel like a tranny a lot of the time. I don't know, I'm...large? They put me in six-inch heels, and I tower over every man. I've got this long hair and lots of clothes and makeup on. I just feel really big a lot of the time, and I'm surrounded by a lot of tiny people. I feel like a man sometimes."

Please don't be mistaken. This is not a "poor me, the tall girl" post. My body image is just fine, and women like Lively (though I suspect she's not the brightest crayon) and Charlize Theron and Aisha Tyler do us six-footers proud. And I can inconspicuously gain quite a bit of weight and still look A-OK. It's none of those things.

But... when we go to the drag show, or the high heel drag race in Dupont Circle, I do end up cracking a lot of jokes about getting confused for a competitor. And can you blame me?

Which of these things is not like the other?

No reason for this particular tangent, other than that I find it hilarious and refreshing that there are those out there in the same predicament. Hooray for tall (mannish....?) girls! Kidding! Sort of.

Two musical projects putting a spin on the norm

I have been all over the place for the past few weeks - planning for DNA Day, then for our first annual fundraising gala. It has been a wild, but wholly professionally fulfilling, past month. I've seen all kinds of things that have inspired me to post something but I haven't had a chance till now. Perhaps this combined "why-music-is-awesome-and-can-change-the-world" post will be more powerful anyway.

As you've probably figured out by now, most of my blog fodder comes from my daily commute to and from work listening to NPR. I really should link them on here. Anyway, this comes from two different stories I heard on the station over the past couple of weeks.

One features Ben Folds (formerly of Ben Folds Five and the epically depressing song Brick that you may remember from the late '90s). Folds decided to compile an entire a capella album of his greatest hits after seeing a YouTube clip of an Ohio University a capella group covering Brick.

Not surprising, considering how the All Things Considered segment described Folds' stage shows:
His dynamic live shows often found Folds leaping on top of the piano, dividing the audience down the middle, and conducting them in two-part (and sometimes even three-part) harmony.

Folds broadcasted the news that he was compiling an a capella album, selecting performances from different university a capella groups across the country via YouTube submissions. The results are pretty impressive, and while I typically shy away from a capella (it reminds me of my younger days and that group from Where in the World is Carmen San Diego...) this could be something to buy on iTunes.

Ben Folds, while depressing at times, could really stand to be livened up and I bet a bunch of peppy and talented collegiate a capella groups could be just the ones to do the livening. Wonder if they covered Rocking the Suburbs on the album... (awww man! Sure don't. Ben?! What happened?)

One album I DEFINITELY downloaded, right away after hearing the piece was the Songs for Peace album - a compilation by a group who call themselves Playing for Change who edit street performers worldwide into one track of a popular song.

Anyway - video of Stand By Me goes viral, producers continue to record mashup-type songs performed by street performers around the world, and they eventually create a CD.



My favorite thing about being in Paris and London were the street performers. There were sidewalk artists and musicians on the street. One girl drew The Birth of Venus in colored sidewalk chalk only to have the effort be washed away by the next rain or street cleaning. One guy played the saxophone by the Thames while balancing on a rope he'd tied between two trees.

In Paris, I heard the Beach Boys and blues standards in the Métro and a bunch of Chilean guys played Hotel California on a pedestrian bridge crossing the Seine. I'm sure I'm idealistic and silly for thinking so, but the idea of bringing these performers from all over the world together shared songs really resonates with me. Singing along with an overplayed Eagles song in Paris may have been cheesy, but it was one of the best nights of my life.

...I'm pretty sure it was the best night because I felt connected to people in a completely different continent because the late July evening was beautiful, the stars were out, the breeze was blowing, the Eiffel Tour was glittering... and we - a mishmash of nationalities, ages and backgrounds - all knew the words to the same damn song.

I love social media at times like this. Watching a YouTube video and listening to some .mp3s won't exactly replicate the feeling of that night on the Seine or those Métro rides, but they will certainly do 'till I can get back out there again.

Susan Boyle, i love you.

I'm not the biggest fan of elimination reality shows. Especially American Idol - except for that one season where the girl who got kicked off unbelievably early took it all after the show. There's just something painful to me about watching people who are serious about achieving their hopes and dreams by way of Simon Cowell getting it all crushed. On national TV, no less.

I kinda hate it, but I was even thinking to myself that she was going to be another weirdo who goes on these shows and warbles away. While it makes me cringe to see these people get made fun of post performance, I also kinda wish they would have had the presence of mind not to go on at all.

So this morning, my friend @griffingotgun posted this video of Susan Boyle on Twitter.

It starts badly. She's kind of frowsy. She's smiling way too much, a little uncomfortable, 47 years old and unemployed. She wants to be a superstar and Simon is warming up for a good destruction session. And then:

Susan Boyle Sings on Britain's Got Talent 2009 Episode 1 @ Yahoo! Video

Susan Boyle shows EVERYONE what's up. This video makes me sooo happy.

Well Susan Doyle is not your typical Professional singer. She’s 47, has a cat named Pebbles, and has never been kissed. And of course, the audience was quite skeptical with much cat-calling and eye-rolling as Susan introduced herself and spoke of her dream to be a professional singer.

[...]The 47 year old charity worker from West Lothian, drew smirks from the audience when she revealed that she wanted a career like that of West End singer Elaine Paige. But after her jaw-dropping performance and gorgeous voice, who knows what is possible for this sweet-demeanored singer? [source]

Happy Wednesday :)

Now I need to see an unexpectedly good dancer on my favorite summer reality show. Everyone loves an underdog!

on burning cds

During high school and college, I was the mix CD queen. You knew you were part of my inner circle if you got a hand decorated CD from Melanie. Making one of these CDs took me upwards of an hour, painstakingly selecting songs for optimal flow, no listener track skippage and the ultimate CD-listening experience. It was both an art and a science.

Then there was the decorating.

I know from personal experience that it is exceptionally hard to keep track of a CD jewel case and sleeve, so I always relied on the CD itself to convey the message I wished to share. Using a rather impressive array of colored sharpies, I would write the track list - songs and artists on the CD. I would use my (minimal) remaining space to illustrate... usually some sort of palm tree or beach motif. Or stars. Or hearts. And then add a personal message:

Dear Kristen/Greg/Jonathan/Jenn/Michelle/Chris,

Happy Graduation/Birthday/Valentine's Day/break up/reunion/got-your-braces-off
You're the best!

♥ Mel XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Those CDs, while exceedingly cheesy, were quite popular. I loved getting inspired by an occasion (I especially remember making ones for all the girlfriends before we went off to our various colleges) and fitting the music to the mood.



Lots of these are still lying around in various friends, boyfriends and siblings car consoles, CD-R holders and desk drawers and are pulled out to relive that month in our lives: headed to college after high school graduation, first valentine's day in a relationship, pick-me-up CD for a best friend during finals, big brother's 21st birthday.

To me, the mix CD is more thoughtful at times than a handwritten letter - and this coming from a writer. While both are used express the mood of an occasion, music is powerful. Hearing the first strain of the hit rap song of 2002 brings back dancing around the dorm while getting ready to go out your first semester of college. The chorus of Wonderwall brings back sitting on that pedestrian bridge in Paris, singing along, in English with kids from all over the world, enjoying the July evening in the City of Light.

They say that smell is the most instantaneous link to memory, but for this hyper-allergic writer, sound is just as equally powerful.

On that note,

Dear Christina,

Congratulations, love! You're getting hitched. Let's take this weekend to symbolically recognize all of the time up till now that this group of girls has spent together. Let's celebrate the current gorgeous, immensly intelligent (and charming) and successful - working for Calvin Klein in Manhattan - you, by taking trip back to less complicated times. Here's to you. And us. And what we have become through all of those fun times.

♥ Mel XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

track list:

Outkast - Bombs Over Baghdad
Destiny's Child - Bug-a-Boo; Bills, Bills, Bills
Any crappy rap song from the early '00s
Blink-182
Oasis
OAR
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
The Beatles
Britney Spears
anything Gwen Stefani and No Doubt
TLC
Missy Elliott
Ludacris
Nelly Furtado
Jimmy Eat World
...and more

Yeah, yeah... laugh it up. Most of this is pretty passé by now, but at the time, that was our music. Embarassing as it may be now, this weekend these songs will take us back to the happiest, easiest times of our lives. Before jobs and rough economies. Before committed relationships and car payments. Now that I have the CD burner back up and running, I might have to get back into the practice.

It's like what they said about mix tapes before we made the switch to burning CDs - all of the effort had gone out of the endeavor. There was no longer copying one song at a time using two tape decks. Now, there's no more dragging and dropping, labeling and burning. There's just the iPod cord and the on-the-go list, all downloaded remotely. I might keep up this dying art for a little longer, if just for the happiness a palm tree and some x's and o's provide a friend. Congrats, Chris.

Ca$hville in photos

I've been feeling more visual than literary lately. So, here's Nashville in photos. Friend Michelle told us about cheap Opryland Hotel rates. Once we got there we were able to upgrade our room to an atrium view... lovely. If you get the chance to go, you should try to finagle an atrium room. It made the stay.

View of the Cascades from our room balcony.

Balcony view #2 - the waterfall. We originally were in a third floor room and asked to move because we were directly at eye level with everyone walking by on the walkway. Awkward.

We (and by "we" I mean "I") took a lot of time farting around in Opry Mills. Found a bunch of cute stuff... Just about made J terminal until we hit the end - the Bass Pro Shops outdoor store. That place is huge. And terrifying. Totally packed with taxidermy critters of all shapes and sizes. While J was examining the kayaks and gear I spotted this little beaver vignette that someone cleverly enhanced. It's hard work hacking logs with your teeth. Every beaver needs a value-sized Diet Coke to quench its thirst every once in a while.

So, the outdoor store was just terrifying on the whole. Behold, the biggest effing catfish I have ever seen. Apparently it's not unusual for them to get this large. Who knew? I was sharing my newfound knowledge with a kickball buddy, who then told me about catfish noodling (!!!) WTF. One more note about the great outdoors. J informed me that all the stuffed (and live) critters were strategically placed to remind shoppers what the real outdoor camping/hiking/fishing experience is like. And on that note, I've decided that my as yet unrealized camping career will never come to fruition. How about a block party instead? Or some bocce. These outdoor activities are more my speed.

Eventually we made it out of Natureland (alive and unscathed by the ginormous bottom feeding fish). After another prolonged wine and cheese session on our balcony, we headed out to eat. When in Nashville, check out Sunset Grill. We had an amazing prix fixe three course meal there for $20. It was quite the recession friendly vacation.

I am thoroughly enjoying traveling in this economy! You can do so much for so little expense. I'm thinking girls' weekend soon. The end.