fall in new england: apple picking

Apples!

xo

my melodrama with melatonin

A couple of weeks ago Kh took a trip to Canada for work, an entire week to be exact. Before she left, I was having a few issues with my sleep schedule, but nothing to really call attention to.

During her absence I was lucky if I got 5 hours of sleep. I’d head to bed around 10, and lay there staring at my phone finding the end of the internet. I’d fall asleep 2 hours later, wake up in 2 more hours and do it all over again. I was frustrated and exhausted. Two things that really don’t look good on me.

After she got home I had a few good nights of sleep, and bam my insomnia came back. I tried sleeping pills a couple of times but really hated how groggy the lasting effect was the rest of the day.

A friend recommended I try melatonin, so I did.

And now I have a bottle of 96 caplets I don’t want to touch.

The first night I tried it, I was out like a burnt light bulb.  Until around 4am when I woke up from the most vivid slightly terror inducing dream I’d had in a long time.

In the dream one of my closest friends, all with a smile on his face, proceeds to tell me he doesn’t need me in his life any longer. That I’m a waste of a friendship, and so on and so forth. I woke up stressed out and couldn’t fall back asleep for another hour and a half.

The next day I was all take this melatonin and shove it. But I’m a slow learner and tried it again that night.

Like clockwork, around 4am I woke up from a terrifying nightmare that was so vivid I can still get goosebumps thinking about it. Kh and I were laying in bed, lights off, our usual routine when she looks at me wide eyed after we hear footsteps in the house and tells me we’re supposed to be alone. Just then a dark figure walks into the room with a shot gun and aims it between Kh and I.

Bam! I’m awake staring wide eyed at the end of our bed. That one took a while for me to fall back asleep from. It’s one of my biggest fears/creep factor is hearing noises in the house when it should be quiet.

After two incidents, I decided to lay off the melatonin.

I’m not sure I can think of anything more frustrating than not getting a good nights sleep. Especially for a granny like myself. Last night I found myself asleep by 10, then awake by 2am and unable to go back to bed until somewhere around 3:30am. I used to have real issues with my sleep, and it's quite frustrating to have it start creeping back into my life. 

I’ve plotted my breakup with melatonin, but I don’t want to go back to my mistress of sleeping pills. While I love finding the end of the internet every single night, it’s getting pretty old. 

xo

 

small adventures and wonderful finds

I’ve been doing ok lately. How about yourself?

Summer has (what feels like) finally ended here. The past 2 days it’s been in the 60’s, and we’re talking about going apple picking this weekend. I’m pretty fucking happy summer is done with. Call me a bad person, but I hate summer. 

A couple of weekends ago we took an overnight trip to CT to do some antiquing. Kh is from CT, so we just crash at her moms’ house. Which is always an adventure. They have a gigantic German Shepard who I'm sure would love to eat my face (no, really, he's scary), and her mom always has to fill us in on what's happened every day since last we saw her. This time I had just gotten a new tattoo, so throw in a few back handed comments about a new tattoo and why'd I'd want to do that and you have a fun filled night.

But the antiquing part was fun. 

 

The one thing I wanted more than anything, but Kh refuses to let me have one in the house. She's such a party pooper! I just want to talk to Captain Howdy, is that so wrong?

My goodie haul for the trip. I got it all at one antique shop, even though we went to four. 

:: one :: fish eye mirror with an eagle on top of it
:: two :: vintage doilies, and old clothe napkins
:: three :: a big plastic baggy filled with old photographs 

:: four :: a repainted vintage tray 

We have big plans of building a blanket fort tonight, making a cheese and cracker plate, grabbing some wine and going through the bag of old photos. I'm hoping to sleep in the blanket fort and have coffee in it tomorrow morning. 

My favorite find by far? This. An antique hourglass.

 

ekkk. Fall. 

xo

its the small rituals that matter

The past few weeks have been pretty rough on my sanity. I keep telling myself I’m going to take a day off, or put aside time to get away, then the day comes and I’ve managed to schedule myself work, sometimes even unexpectedly. July 20^th was the last weekend I had an actual day off, and at the rate I’m going the next day I don’t have work scheduled for is September 14^th.

It all seems pretty nuts, and going at this speed will eventually kill me, but that’s what I get for owning my own business and it being the first year of operation. I need to put in the hours, do the time, and kick some serious ass. Which * wipes my shoulder * I’m doing.

While I can’t always take the time out I need to recharge, I’ve been doing a few things that are helping me to stay sane.

:: My morning coffee routine

Regardless of how crazy my day is, I try to give myself 2 hours in the morning of just me time. I catch up on any last minute urgent work needs, then spend the rest of the time not doing anything in particular. Most mornings I read a chapter or two of a book, drink my coffee, watch an episode of my latest TV show, or just mindlessly surf the Internet.

On the days I’ve forgotten to give myself this in the morning, I’ve found my days were scattered and a bit crazier than usual. It’s so important to allow yourself moments of unscheduled time. Time to do whatever you want, or nothing at all.

:: Indulging in retail therapy ::

I’m generally not one to indulge too deeply in consumerism. I am pretty frugal in my spending when it comes to my wardrobe, and just about everything else except when it comes to food. I love food. Mm.. Food..

I do a lot of online window shopping, filling up my carts and wish lists without actually buying most things. I like to wait until things go on sale, which let’s face it, that dress you’ve always wanted and finally buy is definitely going on sale the next day after you order it. Or at least, that’s how my luck goes. Recently I’ve been giving myself a monetary budget each month and letting go of my fear of spending money on things I want. To paraphrase that 1983 hit, I work hard for my money, so why shouldn’t I buy myself a few things?

I don’t go crazy, and generally my rule is anything under $20 is a fair grab without any guilt attached to it. If I buy new pieces of clothing, I go through my closet and get rid of a couple of articles of clothing I don’t wear any longer. Checks and balances, it’s working out so far.

:: Having a glass, or two, of wine and smoking a cigarette :: 

Yeah. I do it. Maybe even every night. Maybe I even switch it up and have red one night and white the next. I know, I’m living on the edge. This small little bad habit generally keeps me from wanting to murder someone after a long day. 

The cigarette I could probably cut back on again. My sense of smell is taking a hit, but ugh it’s so good. Is there anything better than sitting out on a porch at night, with a glass of wine and a smoke? Probably not. 

xo

i will be right to you

Weeeee! It’s Friday! The mornings have been chilly, my days are becoming less humid, and I don’t have a lot of work to do this weekend. So needless to say I am in a great fucking mood. Even if I have managed to spill my coffee all over myself 3 times this morning.

This weekend is looking to be quite promising.

Tonight, I’m going to see NicoVega. Fucking yay. I'm going to drink a beer. Or several.

 My good friend is in town, which means I get a haircut. I’m split right down the middle between wanting to cut my hair off, and to keep growing it out. Ughh. Life’s hair decisions are hard. I’m just getting sick of pulling out hamster sized balls of hair from my butt crack when I get out of the shower.

Sunday we’re planning a girl’s day. Brunch, flea marketing, possible amusement park adventures, and seafood eating. That last bit no one else is aware of, but I’m going to get a lobster roll this weekend. It’s going to happen.

Other minor details: I’m putting down a deposit on my next tattoo, since my hands are almost healed. As usual I’m not telling anyone what it is. I like my secrets. 

They're going to need some touch ups, but overall they healed quite nicely. Leave it to me to always get tattooed in the hardest to heal/most likely to fall out places. 

And I can’t stop online shopping. I’ve started to put together my dream vanity (even though I don’t have a vanity..) set, in the hopes I’ll stop throwing my clothes on top of my dresser. It's just really convenient when you don't want to put things away..

I gave in and bought a vintage porcelain glove mold to hang my jewelry on. I can not wait for this stuff to get here. 

I also did some massive buying from Forever 27. My new obsession? Printed harem pants. Weird.

This post brought to you by too much coffee, the letter R, and the end of Summer.

What's new in your world? 

xo

all your friends suck; and I hate a lot

I was stopped at a red light yesterday. Staring off into space just wanting to get out of my car, when I couldn’t help but stare at a group of three girls walking down the street. They were just what you’d picture if I described three girls in their mid-20’s, wearing Summer dresses, shorts and tank tops. Taking it easy, strolling down the street.

I watched them for an entire block until the light turned green.

I drove off with only one thought in my head. That one thought? People sure are jerks.

For that entire block, I watched the three girls walk side by side, then one after another while passing other pedestrians. One of the girls, the one that happened to walk first in line, had her skirt stuck on her bag and pulled up exposing her underwear. And in turn the bottom of her butt cheek. The tag of her shirt was hanging out, which wouldn’t have been a big thing; except for the fact it was one of those 4” long tags just flapping in the breeze.

 I know I have some shitty friends, but if one of them let my butt hang out for over a block, I’d probably slap them.

Maybe it’s the heat, no; it’s definitely the heat. Making my patience and tolerance barely there, and my irritability extra high.

[source]

Especially..

:: Working outside on these excruciatingly hot and muggy days with no AC in my car.

:: Coming home to my house being destroyed by a dog that’s staying overnight. She shredded two of my candles. Shred-ed.
:: Slow drivers, not using a turn signal, bicyclists, tailgaters, general shitty drivers.
:: People who can’t manage to pay their invoices even remotely on time. And those that "forget" to leave payment before long trips.
:: Busybodies.
:: When others make assumptions that you’ll do something for them.
:: Flip flops being worn in public. Socks and sandals..
:: Repeating myself.
:: Close walkers and people who sit to close to you in a movie theater. People who crowd you when you’re shopping.

:: When check out clerks carry on a personal conversation the entire time you’re getting rung out.

:: Shopping at Whole Foods. Rude ass people, it’s like post-apocalyptic hell in there.

:: Never getting a day off.
:: The awkward length my hair is and how it turns into a fluffy cotton ball the second I step outside in this soupy weather.
:: Having to wear shorts to stay cool. I hate shorts.
:: When my coffee gets cold.

And bam. I’m still shitty at updating this thing. Does anyone have big 4^th of July plans? I’ll be sitting poolside drinking most of the day. Oh yes.

xo

at least it's not monday anymore, or my awkward moment of the week

My least favorite, and by far the most awkward part of my job, is the client consultations. It’s one of those necessary evils. If I want new clients, I have to make time to meet said new clients.

And meeting said clients takes place in their homes, with just me and them in attendance. Kh refuses to go with me, I can't blame her. These things suck. I thankfully have only had one instance where I felt incredibly uncomfortable.  For the most part, I just see a lot of dirty houses, clutter, or meticulously cleaned apartments.

Last night I had my first crotch shot.

Ok let me back track. I scheduled a client consultation for 6:30pm. I spent the better half of my afternoon with the time 5:30 stuck in my head, boy was I heart broken when I realized I can’t keep track of shit and I was way off.

We had a heavy downpour just as I’m walking out to my car. I get in, look at my directions once more and then drive off. All the while sheets of rain are pouring down on my windshield, the wet spots on my jeans are now cold in the warm air from my car.

I arrive just outside the woman’s apartment 20 minutes early. I call my mom and chat with her about absolutely nothing until I can head inside.

I ring the doorbell and hear footsteps coming down the entryway staircase. A tall, slender woman in her mid-30’s greets me. She’s wearing a red dress that’s tight on top, flowy on the bottom and a belt that can’t seem to get tight enough around her tiny waist. She’s wearing sandal wedges, which helps her be at least 5” taller than me.

I greet her politely and shake her hand. She heads up the stairs first, thankfully. I hate it when I have to navigate my way to a place I’ve never been before.

We go on a hunt to find both of the cats. One of them is lying in her room on her blindingly white bed. I have to step over piles of clothes and shoes to get to the cats. I wasn’t prepared for an obstacle course. We stand there awkwardly chatting, me trying to ignore the giant mosquito netting she has hanging above her bed, until I finally push the meeting along and ask to see the rest of their stuff.

Fast forward to us in the kitchen. She drops the bomb that I need to visit twice a day and one of the cats needs medication. It’s always something, and people don’t like to tell you beforehand.

I have a lot of experience administrating medications to pets, but she decides to show me how the cat takes his pill. She puts the pill inside a ‘pill shooter’ and kneels down to try and coax him over.

So here’s the mental image. The tall sinewy woman in her flowy red dress, kneeling, no, squatting, with her butt touching the backs of her heels. Her legs are close together as she continues to try and talk this cat into coming closer to her.

The next several of minutes go down like this.

The cat slowly starts to saunter over to her, all the while her legs spread farther apart. Soon she has the cat facing me between her legs, with her legs wide open. The red flowy dress is not helping her in this situation, as it’s caught on her knees.

The cats face is directly blocking my view of her crotch. I don’t think she has underwear on.

My first instinct is to stand up and start looking at something else.

My second instinct is to see if she actually has underwear on.

I go with my second instinct. I shift my focus back and am completely relieved to see she has peach colored underwear on. Ok, slightly less awkward.

I stand up and try to make talking to her as painless as possible. I try to make sure my expression doesn’t convey “Ok lady I just saw your pantie crotch shot.”

She shows me how to use a set of keys, and I make a b-line for the door.

The monthly award for most awkward client consultation goes to this one.

xo

I saw my first dead person last week, or what I learned at a wake for someone I didn’t know

I’ve somehow managed to make it to 27 without actually seeing a dead person. This isn’t to say people around me haven’t died, and I haven’t seen my fair share of horror movies. (I know, that doesn’t count.)

Grandparents, great aunts and uncles, even people I went to school with have all met their ends, but none of which I actually saw in person after the last ounce of life had left their bodies.

Death has been around me, but I haven’t seen it to truly know what it looks like. How heavy the air feels around it. Or how serious others make it. And oh boy, people make death a very serious happening.

Except this instance. This story has nothing to do with seriousness.

One of my close friends grandfather died after being sick for some time. I’ll call her NK for the sake of narration. I knew he meant a great deal to NK, and a couple of days before the wake she is sitting on my back porch having a good vent about the whole experience when I offer to go with her. For moral support, and to show I care.

I could hear my insides crying – Stephanie, Why did you go and do a damn thing like that?!

The next day, I don’t hear from her. I think I’m in the clear.

Thursday morning I get a text with directions and a thank you for coming. Damnit. Ok ok.. 

I talk to my mom to see if she has pointers on what really happens at a wake. She tells me you have to kiss the recently deceased's mouth. I tell her she's creepy and she laughs uncontrollably until reality settles in and she decides to google it. I spend the next 10 minutes listening to her read aloud from this article - Attend the wake of someone you didn't know well

You can find answers for anything on this crazy thing called the  world wide web, and that just blows my mom away to this day. At number 10 she starts to choke on her own words, she's laughing to hard. After she composes herself, but just barely, she tells me she misread it as "introduce yourself to the deceased." 

Oh, my mom.

I work a hellacious day. Run home and strip out of my work clothes while running into the bedroom to put on my wake clothes. I have a hard time deciding between what black top, out of my closet overflowing with black tops, is the right black top.

I throw on a new layer of mascara and I’m out the door.

45 minutes later I’m sitting on the world’s most uncomfortable wooden chair, memorizing the shape of every floral arrangement in front of me. A steady stream of people make their way to say their goodbyes and give the family their condolences. He looks peaceful, and I can't help but smile at the family photo collages strewn across the side of the room.

3 hours later and I’m not sure I have a butt any longer and I’ve only managed to sneak out for one smoke break. Where what used to be nothing shy of a plush hiney, I just feel a negative tingling sensation that creeps down the backs of my legs.

In the (somewhat) hushed silence and whispers that were all around me in my 3 hours of narrowly avoiding looking at his corpse, I made a few realizations.

a.      I’m really great at shutting off my mind and staring off into space while pretending to be incredibly interested in floral arrangements. Particularly the sunflowers.

b.     People are rude, disrespectful, and this is why I don’t have friends.
NK had one of her childhood friends with her, as well as myself for support. It seemed fitting, as this girl actually knew her grandfather, and the rest of her family for that matter. I got stuck sitting next to her for a good portion of my space odyssey, and got very close to wanting to stick a q-tip (it’s all I had in my purse) in my ear until I couldn’t hear any longer.
Her constant repetition of “Where’s Stacey and Clinton?” when referring to what people were were wearing wasn’t funny the first time, or the 20^th. Especially after she tried to throw an old lady in a walker into her daytime television bus. I don’t think Stacey, nor Clinton would have appreciated her carpetbag skirt and silk poof sleeve shirt. We weren’t at an 80’s prom.

c.     Funeral homes have some fantastic furniture.
I didn't sit in any of it, aside from my wooden chair that still haunts my backside, for fear of breaking it all. I was fairly impressed with the supply of tissues that seemed to be next to every seat you could think of to sit in.

d.     When I die, it better be a crazy celebration of life, not a somber reflection of my death. Keg stands and joints abound. (Not that I've ever done a keg stand, but I think someone should do one at my funeral, as a nice send off)  I'd also like to breech the topic of photos at a funeral/just make sure you get my good side, and not allowing people to have their cell phones on. There's no need to beat your game of candy crush, put it down for a minute.

That night I had dreams NK’s grandfathers face sunk in while laying in the casket and the world was infested with zombies. All during which I was trying to master the art of floral arrangements. Go figure.

xo

i wish i could be in you one last time

It’s always important to blog about something of content. Something of substance. Something people can relate to. Right? Pfft.. Well, that’s why I’m going to tell you all about how upset I am with my favorite pair of boots dying on me. 

Oh, my dear boots. I purchased you for less than $20 at Burlington Coat Factory 2 years ago. I was unsure about you. Your slouchy, ill-fitting tops hit awkwardly on my calves. My legs looked short and stumpy in you, and I’ll admit I didn’t love you right away.

I put you in my closet. On the bottom, buried under my other black boots. Collecting dust, and slowly being forgotten. I’m sorry for so much lost time. I’m sorry I neglected your needs and want to be worn and used like any other boot.

One day, I put my feet in you while in a rush to leave the house. You were there for me, and you felt so right with me in you. You brought my otherwise sloppy outfit together, making it look like I tried, when everyone knows I didn’t. Oh, how I hate not trying when leaving the house.

You went with me on shopping trips, and trips to the grocery store. You were there waiting when I couldn’t be bothered with a zipper or shoelaces.

The first signs of decay came when my foot got wet while walking on the sidewalk. I knew our days were numbered. Slowly, I felt more of a draft and a cold distancing between us. Today, your sole shattered. There is no fixing what we had, no amount of googling for your long lost twin will bring me satisfaction of wearing you again.

It’s going to take me at least 2 weeks to throw you away. Maybe, just maybe I’ll try to glue you back together and hold on for just a bit longer. 

 

Oh, my dear boots.

xo

five reasons why i should be allowed to sleep an entire day this weekend

Last night I spent an hour trying to log onto my tumblr account. After trying every single email/password combination I could think of, I realized I was trying to log onto facebook. Fail.

While brushing my teeth last night, I dropped my toothbrush completely out of my hand and it bounced off my tank top. I refused to change said tank top. Tonight Kh looked at my tank top and said, “Is that toothpaste? From last night?” Opps. I’ve been caught.

I wrote today’s date at least 8 times today, and each time I wrote the date as 2014. I’m living in the future, bitches. (3/13/13 what a strange date..)

I just fell asleep while sneaker shopping online.  

And drooled. 

xo

it's like winters slapping me in the face

This morning I was driving around a bit earlier than I usually get started in my days. It was just around the time when people are starting, or in the middle of their commute into work. People walking, driving, riding their bikes.

It was a nasty day, with winds up to 45mph blasting you from the side, slushy snow that hit the streets and turned to water, and a temperature of 37degrees.  Just warm enough for me to sweat if I moved to much.

I start out all bundled up, I look in the mirror before I leave the house and make sure my hair is evenly placed around my face under my hat and I don’t have anything unsightly stuck to my face from breakfast. My mascara is waterproof, clutching to my eyelashes for dear life, refusing to let go even in the shower. Just the way I like it.

I look as presentable as I’m going to get, because I know what’s going to happen 10 minutes out the door. I’m going to fall the hell apart.

Let me back track to talk about a couple of people I saw on their commute this morning. They were all bundled up and braving this nasty day, just like I was, but there was one difference between us.

The elements had no effect on them. And I hate them for it.

Ok ok.. harsh..

The gusts of wind seemed to be working with their long hair, letting it flow behind them in waves with their hat perched so perfectly on their head. The snow turned to magic dust crystals when it hit there clothes and left no traces of a wet spot. There eyes were two bright spots in the middle of their big old faces, ready to take on whatever the day had in store for them.  

Is there some elite secret society for the preservation of your dignity when leaving the house on inclement weathered days? I'd like to subscribe to their newsletter.

When the wind hits me on days like this, I squint my eyes like I’m sucking on a lemon candy. I have a permanent scowl on my face like someone is consistently pissing in my cheerios, or like the world smells of farts. My hair doesn’t flow like waves behind me, but rather like the matted seaweed stuck in those waves. If you look close enough I probably even have a sea creature or two lurking in my locks.

The 65% of my hair that’s fake that frames my face takes on a life of it’s own and completely separates from the top layer of my real hair, I’ll attribute that to the sea creatures as well. It looks like I have some odd bowl cut that I missed a few pieces when getting cut.

I can only be thankful my mascara is waterproof or else it would be running in streams down my cheeks. My blotchy, red cheeks.

Inclement weather hates me, and I hate it right back. 

You should see me on 90degree days. I essentially melt into an old tomato that can’t process heat.

Winter be gone.

xo

just because.. it's tuesday doesn't mean i'm not drinking

My day. Was. Rough. I got started before 10am, and didn’t actually sit down (other than in my car driving like a mad woman) until after 7pm. My client list for the day quite literally doubled overnight. While it’s stressful the day of, afterwards I feel really great and exhilarated how well I’m doing almost completely on my own.

At my last stop of the night, I told Kh I’d pick her up from the subway (or T if you’re a Boston local). I was about 10minutes away from her and asked if she’d mind grabbing me a bubbly water (aka seltzer, carbonated, amazingness). And maybe a sweet treat.

I’m not a big sweets eater, but (sorry to go there) I got my period raging bad last night and all I wanted was something chocolatey, a bottle of advil, a hot water bottle, and my pajamas.

I pull up to where I’m supposed to meet Kh. There she is, standing in the rain holding a bag. She gets in the car and I suspiciously eye the logo on the side of the bag. 

Do you know what that mother-licker got me? A fucking oreo ice cream cake from JP Licks aka my favorite oreo ice cream making place ever.

Holy shit do I love her. I came home, put on my pajamas, and ate a piece of it. Before dinner. I didn’t even care, and it was so good I pretty much died a little.

That was my Tuesday, and shit did it ever end on a good note. 

 
 

xo