People I Love: Lisa

I interviewed Lisa in Fall '06 as a co-op student for the team I manage. I hired her because during the interview, she didn't know an answer to a question I asked and said as much, and when I explained what the answer was, she said, "Oh, cool, yeah, I didn't think of that," so incredibly sincerely that I kind of loved her.

That first semester I didn't spend a lot of time with her, but she always showed up for events (even dressed up as a Happy Camper [at left, with Giselle aka Joan] for our Hallowe'en party - although I admit it hurt a little when I told Lisa that I was going to an 80s party as Cyndi Lauper and she asked, "Who's that?") and had just wonderful spirit. I saw her once during Winter term when I was in Waterloo to do interviews - she and her sister Laura came out for drinks with Sirrah!'s husband and me, and when Greg and I returned to the very pregnant Sirrah! Greg announced that he was sorry but he was in love with someone else. That's how charming this girl is.

Lisa came back to NY to work for a different team this summer, and ended up in a sublet about 6 doors down from the BP. We had regular Monday night movies (including "Josie and the Pussycats," "Charlie's Angels," and most recently, "Adventures in Babysitting") and shared countless pints of i.c.e.c.r.e.a.m. (she spells it every time she says it, and now I do too). I beat her once at Settlers of Catan (it was totally an upset - even MY money was on her). She taught me about improv and biters and Teen Girl Squad and reminded me that persistence works. And even though she's an athlete and an engineer and a writer and a sister, she is totally uncategorizable.

Lisa, if I could write and cast the role of Gillian's Little Sister (GLS), it would be all you. Thanks for being an amazing friend this summer. I love you (metric) tonnes.

P.S. This post is totally biting Lisa's People I Like series.

15 Things I Do To Avoid Packing

1. Poke people on Facebook
2. Go to the deli
3. Pet Memphis
4. Call Sara
5. Rip CDs (seriously. SERIOUSLY)
6. Eat ice cream
7. Send text messages (LATHE'D!)
8. Reminisce
9. Look at the intarweb
10. Hope someone calls to invite me out for a beer
11. Drink the last beer in the BP fridge
12. Listen to Gwen Stefani (OK, there is singing and dancing involved here too)
13. Miss Lisa
14. Read Get Naked
15. Blog

Procrastinate This, Sucka!

Saturday I move into BP:LE. A few weeks ago, with the help of about half a dozen kickass girlfriends, I packed up loads of crap from my old apartment in preparation for the move. Sadly, the BP (v1) remains intact. I've looked around a few times to approximate how many boxes I'll need, and mostly thought, hey, it'll be fine. How long can it take to pack this place up? I've only lived here for a few months!

And so, in the week leading up to the big move, I have cleverly overbooked myself so that my packing follows the law of all packing (and software development and wedding planning): It will take as much time as is available to do it.

Last night, La Farlow came over to watch a movie. Then I baked banana bread, which I took out of the oven at approx. 12:30 a.m. Tonight, we had game night at work! I got home from that at 10:30, and now I'm blogging, but it's ABOUT packing so that kind of counts, right? I actually canceled my plans for tomorrow night (a leftover birthday mani-pedi) just so I'd have an evening to pack, which I'm SURE will be long enough, right?

Guys?

That, Too

Gillian: I love xkcd today
Gillian: SO MUCH

Brianna: you would
Brianna: i found it a bit overly sugary

Gillian: I am nothing if not overly sugary

Brianna: you're just shockingly uncynical

The Under 3 Set

Dig my mad toddler skillz, yo.

And while we're on the topic of kiddos, you totally have to check out my godson Griffin hip-hop dancing:



(Via Accidental Ocelot)

Adventures in Cooking

For those of you just joining us, this is the "kitchen" in the BP.

OK. It's a bit better now. I painted and fanagled a bigger fridge, and put up shelves. But that sink is useless.

I haven't cooked a lot this summer. See above. This past weekend, already feeling nostalgic about leaving Park Slope, I hit up the Green Market at Grand Army Plaza. Sans plan, I picked up a few delicious items, including heirloom tomatoes, beets, scallops, goat cheese, a French baguette, and New Jersey white peaches. A quick surf of Epicurious and a call to Candace inspired a menu of Spinach and Beet Salad with Walnut-Crusted Goat Cheese (based on this recipe for Hazelnut-Crusted Goat Cheese Salad), Bacon-Wrapped Scallops with Port Reduction served with heirloom tomatoes, and Peaches & Cream (freshly whipped, sweetened with a bit of maple syrup) for dessert. If your mouth isn't watering by now, you should really have that looked at.

The best part about the menu was that I had almost everything in my tiny pantry (I even had bacon in the freezer). My trip to the grocery store was quick and painless, and a bottle of ruby port only costs $10.99 - who knew? Also: I got to light stuff on fire (that's the port reducing over there on the right). Good times.

I'm psyched about cooking this Fall, and to take full advantage of the delightfully large kitchen in BP:LE, I might even trek back to Park Slope for the market. You never know.

Haystack

My friend D started blogging again after a 2 month hiatus. Check out her latest post, replete with pictures of Sunny's garden which is at its most perfect this time of year. I'm sad to be missing it.

Also: Read about her Fluevogs, which cracked me up (and I have those same shoes!).

Public Record

GILLIAN is walking along the Brooklyn-bound platform of the Metropolitan Ave. G Train stop. She hears someone singing on the Queens-bound side and looks up.

BILL: Duh du duh du du du-du duh duh

GILLIAN: Hey! Tee hee! Where do you live?

BILL: Greenpoint.

GILLIAN: Sucka!

BILL: Uh, you have further to go.

GILLIAN: Good point.

BILL: So, when are you going to give me a project?

GILLIAN: Next week - I'm off tomorrow and Friday. I'm baking Aaron's wedding cake.

BILL: Aaron's getting married? I didn't know that. When?

GILLIAN: Saturday.

BILL: Will you bake my wedding cake?

GILLIAN: Of course! I told you last year that I would.

BILL: For free?

GILLIAN: Duh, yes. When are you doing that?

BILL: I don't know if I'm ever getting married.

GILLIAN: But I thought you guys... This year? Or next year?

BILL: I don't know what we're doing. I am so afraid of commitment. I don't know what I'm doing next Tuesday.

GILLIAN: I hear you. [pause] I'm getting divorced.

BILL: WHAT? You're joking.

GILLIAN: No, for real.

BILL: Whatever, you're not serious.

GILLIAN: No, I am. [holds up ringless left hand]

BILL: Oh my God! That makes me so sad!

GILLIAN: No, really, I'm OK. It's for the best.

BILL: [looks around, realizes they're yelling to hear each other and there are other passengers on both platforms who can hear the entire conversation] [clasps hands in front of heart] Aw, that sucks! Come over here! I want to hug you!

GILLIAN: [looks at the train tracks and rolls eyes] For real, Bill, I'm OK.

BILL: What? But... But, you just celebrated your one-year anniversary!

GILLIAN: Yeah, but we weren't living together at the time. I moved out earlier this Spring.

BILL: Oh my God! This breaks my heart! How long were you together?

GILLIAN: Almost 6 years.

BILL: [hands still clasped in front of chest, bows dramatically]

GILLIAN: Really, Bill, it's for the best. Trust me. [pause] Also, it's kind of surreal that we're having this conversation across two sets of subway tracks.

BILL: [titters] Yeah, I know! [pause] But, I read your blog! You guys seem so together!

GILLIAN: OK. You know on the right side, the Favourite Posts section? Go read Late Night Blogging Gets Serious.

BILL: I read that!

GILLIAN: Well, read it again. Use your mad reading skillz this time.

BILL: OK OK. So...

GILLIAN: So, I moved out, and in September I'm moving to DUMBO.

BILL: I love DUMBO! It's so different from anywhere I've lived or know. [crosses arms in front of chest]

GILLIAN: Yeah, it's a 3,000 sq. ft. loft shared with 3 other people. I'm psyched.

BILL: Who are you living with?

GILLIAN: Strangers. I met them briefly last week.

BILL: I can't believe you're moving in with people you don't know. What if one of them is crazy?

GILLIAN: Then I'll move out. It's month-to-month.

BILL: Huh. [crosses arms in front of chest]

GILLIAN: [Glances at other passengers on platform] I feel like this is some kind of performance art and we're reading from scripts.

BILL: Totally.

The Queens-bound train pulls into the station at that moment, and Gillian and Bill wave goodbye across the platform. Gillian watches Bill through the moving windows of the train, then watches the train pull out of the station.

LOL Caturday

Thanks to Dog for the caption.

Perfect Moments

This morning I went for a run, and after Tuesday's cross-training extravaganza I felt cricky and sore and, well, not awesome. It was overcast and humid, and I ended up walking the last mile. As I approached the park exit, I noticed the light was just lovely, and the trees were that perfect August green, full and layered. The sun squeaked through the clouds in places and dappled the trees and in that moment everything felt perfectly beautiful.

An hour later I was waiting for the subway, listening to Cyndi Lauper on my iPod and a line in the book I'm reading made me laugh out loud:

When somebody tells you that a certain boy isn't good enough for you, that person has usually not just moved all alone into a crap apartment in a city known for being south of a city that people have heard of.

If you pay attention, the Universe comes through.

The Arrivals Gate

The other morning my iPod shuffled over to one of my favourite Ani DiFranco songs, "The Arrivals Gate." I have listened to this song countless times and have the lyrics memorized, but for some reason that morning when I heard it, I *got* it, and it seemed so applicable and wonderful. For a moment I wished I'd understood it a few months ago -- but months ago I wasn't where I am now, so that would have been impossible, anyway.

Gonna go out
To the arrivals gate at the airport
And sit there all day
Watch people reuniting
Public affection so exciting
It even makes airports ok
Watching children run
With their arms outstretched
Just to throw those arms
Around their grandpa’s neck
Watching lovers plant kisses
Old men to their misses
At their arrivals gate

Watching a mother
With a mother’s smile
Don’t tell me to move
I just wanna sit here for a while
I have determined
It’s a sure cure for cancer
Watching excitement turn family dogs
Into dancers
At the arrivals gate

I got me a white bread sandwich
With some shredded lettuce
And I got me a ringside view
For my quaint little fetish

I just wanna drain my pink little heart
Of all it’s malice
And kick back for the afternoon
In this fluorescent palace

Everybody’s in a hurry
Here in purgatory
Except for me
I’m where I need to be

At the arrivals gate

I'd always taken this song literally, and really, it does reinforce my appreciation of airports (I already like them a lot because: traveling and buying trashy magazines and hunting for outlets). But when I heard it the other day the song had entirely new meaning.

It's really easy to resist change. We cling to what we know, even if it isn't awesome, because it's somehow less scary than the unknown. The thing I wonder is, do we really know the things we think we know? As a friend reminded me a couple of months ago, we're all in periods of transition and uncertainty, all the time. So why are we so afraid to absorb and move with the changes, instead of resisting them?

Call it purgatory, or whatever you want, but yeah, it's all of us, all the time. And today, I'm where I need to be.

Stretch

Stretch
Originally uploaded by Kitty LaRoux.

Perfectly lazy Saturday afternoon.

The Internet Makes Me Giggle

Tonight as I was leaving work, my friend Chad, who's staying Chez BP for a week or so before he embarks on a 2 month trip to Europe, called me to tell me he'd forgotten to bring with him the address of where he was meeting someone for dinner. I couldn't recall the address myself, and asked him if he had GOOG-411, the Google Voice Local Search.

I don't know where I heard about GOOG-411, but I've had it in my phone for a while and have used it a handful of times. It's free (yay Google!) and the times I've used it, it's worked about as well as any other company's voice directories that I've used.

Chad didn't have The Goog, so I told him I'd call and get back to him.

When I was prompted for the name of the business, I said, "Otto." The first option was for Otto's Shrunkenhead (who knew?) on East 14th St. The second option: Otto Restaurant Enoteca Pizza on 5th Ave. Bingo! My choices were then to wait to be connected, or say "Details" for more info. Since I needed the address, I chose the latter and was THEN presented with the option - get ready! - to receive a text message! My brain barely managed to process the awesomeness of that option but I managed to yell "Text message!" into the phone. While I was STILL CONNECTED I received the following text:

Otto Restaurant Enoteca Pizza
212-995-9559
1 5th Ave
New York, NY 10003
http://m.google.com/u/B2hK5I

Not only did I get exactly the information that I needed, I then proceeded to forward the message to Chad so that he would have all the details right on his phone! That? Rocks.

Gentle reader, please, for me, store this number in your phone: 1-800-GOOG-411 (1-800-466-4411). I promise you that it will come in handy. You can thank me when it does.

P.S. According to the GOOG-411 Web site, the service is still only available in the US. Sorry, loyal Canadian readers. But you guys still have exclusive access to ketchup chips.

What A Girl's Gotta Do

Tonight's dinner: A slice of toast* with Nutella, half a pint of Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked Frozen Yogurt and a glass of red wine.

I really can't wait to move into Bachelorette Pad: Loft Edition, now with more kitchen! Coming September 1. Stay tuned.

*Toasted, sadly, in the oven. I hope that BP:LE is also equipped with a toaster.

Orange

A few days ago Dog sent me a link to these fruity-scented USB drives and was surprised when I picked strawberry over orange as my top choice. Later that same week, Lisa told me that I could add her innovative Facebook profile mod that, in addition to Likes and Dislikes, lists Indifferent Tos. She was surprised (or perhaps just disagreed with my opinion) when I listed "orange popsicles" on the third list. (She also said that if I stole her idea she wouldn't even write biter on my wall, and if you have no idea what you just read, don't worry, that just means that you're over 25. Note: I was perplexed at the term "biter" but just this morning realized that I've heard it before and didn't even get it at all. And, that reference was from Dog and apparently now we've come full circle.)

Anyway. This post is supposed to be about things that are orange, and why orange-flavoured things usually don't make my top 10 lists.

When we were kids, my mom used to take my brother & I grocery shopping and let us each pick a flavour of Kool-Aid or Jell-O. Garth ALWAYS picked orange. Like, every single time. And every single time I picked a different non-orange flavour, so our cupboard was half orange-flavoured stuff and half misc. I kind of separated orange from the other flavours in my mind at that point. Since there was always an abundance of it, I seldom choose it even now when there are other options. I'm sure there's a PhD (or at least Master's) psychology thesis in here somewhere about the lasting effects of familial eccentricities.

[The main exception to the orange-flavoured things rule is Creamsicles, which are perfect just as they are.]