Tomorrow Is Another Day...

The Long and Winding Roots

It was a big, wonderful weekend around these parts--I wish all weekends could be as amazing!  One of my very good friends from Washington just so happened to have a work conference in North Carolina last week, so when it ended on Friday, she rented a car and moseyed on down the highway toward Charleston.

Charleston and I were both anxious to give her a good first experience in the South, and I think that we did a pretty good job showing the city off to full effect.  Friday night we sat up talking until the wee hours of the morning, drinking wine and planning our week in Japan.  I had missed our long wine-fueled chats, so it was a great way to start our weekend together.  As she was leaving on Sunday morning, we really had to make Saturday count.

 

We dragged ourselves out of bed on Saturday morning and got out of the house only 15 minutes or so behind schedule.  We began the day at Boone Hall Plantation, and she was immediately taken with all of the Spanish moss and the centuries-old live oaks.  I thought the plantation itself was a little disappointing--it was actually built in the 1930s, so while it has been a functioning plantation since the founding of Charleston, the house itself isn't as old as other plantation homes that I've been to.  On top of that, the house is mostly occupied, so you only get to tour three of the rooms downstairs and a sun porch.  But, the best part was the old slave cabins that had been converted to exhibits on slave life in the antebellum South, and the adorable lady who put on a Gullah presentation.  It was a beautiful home with lovely grounds, but I'm looking forward to seeing what other plantations South Carolina has to offer.

After the plantation we went to lunch at a restaurant overlooking Isle of Palms beach, then made our way downtown to Charleston where we shopped at the market, took a romantic carriage ride around the city, ate Baklava and drank Italian sodas, walked down to the waterfront park, strolled down Broad Street, and poked around in the Circular Congregational Church cemetery.  We ended the day at another friend's house for dinner, and then back home for a little more Japan planning and gabbing.  Then, to make the weekend even better, Colby got home from his endless trip early Sunday morning while we were still asleep, and was there to see Nicole off on Sunday.

For the most part, I enjoy our military lifestyle as I love experiencing new places and getting to live in so many different parts of the country.  But I really hate that I'm constantly leaving behind friends and family.  This weekend helped to reaffirm the fact that friendships really can be maintained over time and distance, and even after months apart, you can pick up right where you left off and feel like no time has passed at all.  Colby and I don't have short roots--ours are long roots that wrap around the world and have latched on firmly.  Our roots aren't attached to places, they're attached to people, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Year of Travel

I am officially declaring 2010 to be my year of travel.

Over the years I've had multiple jobs that have really put a cramp in my deep-down-inside dream of being a nomad.  I have multiple school assignments due every week.  Writing projects pile up and never seem to be finished.  Bills roll in at an alarming pace.  We have not one, but two houses on separate sides of the country to keep up.  Two dogs constantly want to be fed, walked, watered and entertained.  Are other people just as busy, if not more so?  Absolutely.  Some people juggle all that plus children and more.

My point though, is that it seems like there's always a reason not to do something.  Money could be better spent elsewhere.  Vacation time is a precious commodity.  Boarding two medium sized dogs is crazy expensive.  But this year, I am putting my foot down.  I am rapidly running out of time in my life where I am young and I have this sort of freedom to travel, and I'm taking advantage of it--money be damned.  Can you take kids on vacation with you?  Sure!  But I imagine that it must be a different experience altogether.  Can you leave your kids behind?  Of course, but surely you miss them, and knowing my personality a heavy dose of guilt as well.

So this is my year to expand my horizons!

 

I've already had a fairly comprehensive tour of the surrounding area with visits to Atlanta, Savannah, and Jacksonville, FL and the Kennedy Space Center.  In April, I really want to take a weekend trip up to Charlotte, NC, in no small part due to the siren call of the nearest Ikea.

In May, I'm heading to Manhattan with my mom to visit my sister.  Having done most of the major touristy attractions on previous visits, I'm excited about getting a little more off the beaten path.  Some ideas include the Chelsea Market, High Line Park, the Cloisters, the Holocaust Museum and the Statue of Liberty.  Okay, that last one is totally touristy, but somehow, after three times in the city, I've never made it there.

I'm brushing up on my Kanja and sushi-eating abilities, because in June I'm headed to JAPAN!!  I'm crazy excited about this one, because I've only ever spent time in Europe on my overseas adventures.  Now, I love Europe, and I'm pretty sure it will always come first in my heart, but JAPAN!!!  Memoirs of a Geisha!  Hello Kitty!  Temples!  OMG!  Maybe I'll even learn something about the country that isn't completely stereotypical!

As of right now, a dead spell exists between July and October, when I'll head back to NYC for a wedding, but then, when Colby returns from his deployment in November, we're treating ourselves to an utterly romantical Egypt and Eastern Mediterranean Cruise.  *Faint*  I suggested this to Colby, as a desperate desire wrapped in a lighthearted "yeah, right" joke and nearly dropped dead from shock when he latched onto the idea immediately.  Now we just have to hope it doesn't sell out before he gets his leave approved, but otherwise we'll be spending late November through Early December in Spain, Greece, Sicily, Egypt, and Malta.

After this year, I'm going to be spoiled entirely rotten.  What about you?  Any fun trips planned for 2010?  Any advice for "must sees" if you have experience in any of the places I'll be visiting?

A Perfect Day

This past Saturday was one of those perfect days.  A day where you are just productive enough to feel a sense of accomplishment and just lazy enough to feel completely relaxed.  The only way it could have been better was if Colby were here, but frankly, if his presence were required to make me happy, I'd be pretty miserable 95% of the time.

I started the day by sleeping until the sunshine streaming through the windows wouldn't let me sleep anymore, then began my day with an appointment with Jillian Michaels.  Once she'd kicked my flabby butt for about an hour, I got dressed, spent some time organizing the office, did a little homework and a little writing and then decided that the rest of the day was far too beautiful to be spent sitting inside.  So I set up camp on a lounge chair in the backyard with my dogs, my book and Words With Friends.

Can I just tell you?  I absolutely adore my house.  In all of the stress of house hunting, our biggest concern was that we wouldn't find a house we loved as much as our Washington house.  We even joked about how nice it would be if we could just put our old house on a trailer and drive it east.  Obviously, that wasn't an ACTUAL possibility, but oh, how glad I am that we did not do that.

I set up my chair facing the house, the better to sun myself, and at times I'd find myself just gazing around the backyard with goo-goo eyes.  The Bradford Pear is in full bloom, if you squint and look in exactly the right direction it looks like we have a completed picket fence, they hydrangeas are sprouting leaves, there was just enough of a breeze to ripple the pond and cormorants were swimming back and forth in search of lunch.  I've envisioned the ideal location for a patio off the screened porch, thought about the perfect patio furniture and am dreaming of a long Southern summer, just like the ones I used to know, spent out in the yard.

Yes, it's a small dream, but our old backyard was so tiny that every time I went outside, it felt as though seven neighbors were all staring down at me, observing my every movement.  Now we only have one neighbor, our yard is about five times the size of our old one and if I dare to wear my swimsuit to soak up the sun, I won't feel like I'm performing a strip tease for the local gentlemen.  I'm in heaven!  Although with all of the Jillian I've been doing, at least I could feel like I was putting on a pretty good show.

Anyway, I know how boring it is to hear someone gush about their happiness and rhapsodize about landscaping plans, so I promise to come up with something tragic and/or dramatic in short order, but for now, I'm just going to revel in my perfect Saturday--sunburn and all!

Ashes, Ashes, I Always Fall Down

I'd like to begin by saying that I have officially become a true Charlestonian in my own, very special way.  I do a lot of things very well--I read quickly, I'm good with kids, I make a mean boxed macaroni and cheese--but one thing I do not do well is walking.  I am a TERRIBLE walker.

My poor mother enrolled me in ballet classes when I was just a wee thing, I'm sure with dreams of seeing her graceful daughter twirling around the stage in a gossamer tutu, and still I ended up being one of the klutziest people I know of.  I'm constantly tripping on things, misjudging depth and slamming my forehead into corners or walls, tumbling down stairs...  One of my biggest fears living in a two story house and being alone so often is that I'll somehow catapult off the top step and break my neck only to have my dogs eat my face and my husband discover my remains when he returns home from a trip two weeks later.

Long time readers may remember my graceful tumble down the hills of Seattle, not once, but twice within the span of about 60 seconds, prompting a kind Samaritan to doubt my sobriety.  That was also the experience that led to my phobia of walking down hills of any sort.  My heart leaps into my throat even thinking about descending a downward grade of more than 1%.  And yet, in my life, I have come to the conclusion that you never really live somewhere until you bite the dust there in a spectacularly painful and humiliating fashion.

Up until yesterday, I had managed to navigate the streets of Charleston with great success, and I think the heady rush of stability led to a sense of ambulatory overconfidence and my eventual downfall (pun intended).  There I was, walking down the treacherous sidewalks of the city, admiring the impressive architecture and chatting with a friend, when out of nowhere that sidewalk reached up, caught hold of my boot and dragged me down to the ground with impressive force.

The really ridiculous part was, as I observed the ground rushing toward my face, all I could think to myself was, "Oh my God, my boots are going to be so scuffed!"  As I pushed myself off of the ground, sadly taking in the shredded and scraped condition of my jeans and knees, and carefully brushed the gravel off of the remaining shreds of my dignity, I heard the sound of a car window rolling down and a voice floated out into the damp lowcountry air, "Are you okay?"  As I looked over at my friend Sarah and then back at the family gazing out of their car in surprise and concern, I felt a sense of what can only be described as relief.  It had to happen at some point, and now I have that awkward first time behind me.

And then the throbbing began.

Fantasy Fashions

I've been reading a lot of historical fiction and watching a lot of period pieces of late, and it's gotten me thinking about a topic to which I frequently return when I get into these phases.

I love clothes.  That's not really much of a secret.  I get terribly excited when my Lucky magazine arrives and I can pore through it looking for new outfit inspiration.  I love watching shows like Project Runway and What Not to Wear to get my fashion fix.  I'm pretty choosy about which trends I'll jump on board with--it took me a couple of years to come around to the skinny jeans phenomenon and even now I can only bring myself to wear them tucked into boots--but I like to think that's because I have gotten wise in my later 20s as to what trends actually work on my body and what just looks interesting on the pages of a magazine or walking a runway on a human insect hybrid.

But deep down inside, I've never felt the passion for modern day clothes that I do for the fashions of eras gone by.  I secretly wish that I was bold enough to be a Steampunk gal just so I could wear a bustle and veiled top hat.  I think that over the last half of the 20th century fashion became primarily about comfort and utility, which I suppose is fine in of itself, but I often find myself yearning for the glamour of eras gone by--corsets and all.

 

Well, okay, so I don't really want to wear a corset everyday, but you must admit, the idea of taking a few inches off the size of your waist without resorting to strenuous exercise is a little appealing, isn't it?  And with the voluminous skirts of the antebellum period, you'd never know just how thunderous anyone's thighs are.  And parasols!  Le sigh.

From a purely aesthetic point of view. I think the era of the Gibson Girls was the heyday of women's fashion through the ages.  And the ruffled bosoms, enhanced bottoms, and cinched waists that signified the late 1800s/early 1900s would suit my body shape ideally.  In fact, now that I think about it, I think that's what drew me so much to the silhouette of my wedding dress.  Yes, it all sounds perfectly dreamy until you read about the rib-removal surgeries women would undergo for the sake of their fashion.  Um, yikes.

The 1940s definitely takes us to a complete departure from the voluminous skirts with which I'm so enamored, but I've always been a fan of a perfectly tailored suit.  Not to mention, the 1940s were all about phenomenal hats.  If there's one thing I think could really be a practical come-back from fashions of the past, it's the hat.  Think of it, any bad hair day could be immediately remedied with a molded felt hat or a fascinator.  Who's with me on this?

And finally, the decade I most frequently turn to for fashion inspiration, the 1950s.  I love the simple A-line dresses and the full circle skirts that women returned to once the war ended and they were tucked away back into their pre-war roles as domestic engineers.  I don't agree with the sentiment, but how can you argue with the gauzy romance of those gowns?

So, what about you?  Is there a fashion epoch you wish you could bring back to the future, or are you perfectly content with our jeans and t-shirt generation?  How do you think our fashions of today will be remembered in years to come?

Making A House A Home

I can't believe another week of this year is practically over and done with.  I know it's a cliche, but I can't quite wrap my mind around how rapidly time is slipping through our fingers.  It doesn't seem possible, but it has already been 3 full months since we packed up our cars and started the long trek east bound and down across the country as we moved from Washington to South Carolina.  In that time babies have been born, multiple birthdays have been celebrated, the season's have started to change, and new friendships have begun.

I also sometimes find it surprising that it's been less than three months that we've been living in Charleston.  I feel more at home here after only two and a half months than I ever felt in Washington.  I made wonderful friends there, we loved our house, and I grew so much from the time I moved there as a 23-year-old--practically a zygote really--but I never felt like it was home.  Now, when I look out at our pond, wander past stately homes on the Battery, go to book club meetings, or make lunch dates with friends, it all just feels so natural.  So right.  Like this is a place where I could really be happy forever.  I've never had that feeling before, and it's a little unnatural in its naturalness if that makes even a speck of sense.

And yet, we are only here for three years or so, so we're doing our best to enjoy it while it lasts.  Last weekend we went with friends to the Charleston Wine + Food festival, and had a wonderful time trying samples from local restaurants and vendors and drinking copious amounts of wine in 1-2 ounce servings.  The weather was a glorious, sunny 60ish degrees and it was a perfect day for a festival.

Colby and I spent the past week fencing in the backyard and making landscaping plans.  We're thinking of doing a raised vegetable and herb garden in one corner, a wall of azaleas and/or camelias along the fence line as screening, and a flower garden with a bench or swing in the other corner.  I've never been one to get terribly excited about gardening, but after our modest success with herbs and rhododendrons last year, I'm feeling a little more optimistic about our future garden retreat.  Particularly now that I've been schooled in the importance of deadheading.

Sadly, for now the fence and the garden are in a holding pattern as Colby left this morning to do his patriotic duty flying the unfriendly skies.  I'm feeling a little sorry for myself, but today is a grey, misty day, I have a new box of tea to try, and a wonderful book that I have to finish before Monday.  So, all in all I'm looking forward to a quiet weekend surrounded by puppies, hot tea and a riveting novel.  I hope your weekend is equally delicious.

Alice in Wonderland

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." ~The White Queen (Lewis Carroll)

I don't generally consider myself much of a movie buff, and so I don't dedicate much time or effort to reviewing movies here on the blog or elsewhere.  But for the recent release of Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, I feel as thought my entire life leading up to this point has prepared me for reviewing this movie.  From the time I was a small child, I've loved Alice.  It started with the Disney animated film which led to my love of the Lewis Carroll books from Alice in Wonderland to Alice Through the Looking Glass and leading all the way to Gilbert Adair's 1984 addition to the Alice canon, Alice Through the Eye of the Needle.  So, those are my credentials, now, what did I think about the film?

I loved it.  I went in with my expectations lowered due to a few mediocre reviews I had read, but still looking forward to the visual treat I knew Burton had bestowed upon us.  Perhaps those lowered expectations led to my dazzlement, but I truly have very little to complain about.

The movie centers around Alice as a young adult at a crossroads in her life.  Should she do the right thing and marry for money and status as everyone around her seems to think is the only option, or should she pursue the impossible--a life of freedom and adventure?  As she takes a moment to ponder these thoughts, who should she see dashing through the garden, but a certain White Rabbit in a waistcoat, dangling a pocket watch meaningfully in her direction.

What ensues is a return to Wonderland, where Alice is reintroduced to the cast of characters she met long ago.  The twist is that Alice has no real memory of her visit to Wonderland aside from a string of frightening dreams she had as a child.  Mia Wasikowska does an impressive job portraying an Alice whose curiosity and blind acceptance of the bizarre circumstances she finds herself in have been tempered by a Victorian upbringing, but whose sense of wonder and belief in herself is built up again throughout the film.

The Mad Hatter is charmingly portrayed by Johnny Depp who swings back and forth with ease between a dark, menacing madness and the more batty, amusing madness seen in the book and previous films.  My favorite part of the movie was the Hatter's interactions with Alice, as he took her under his wing and a loving, father/daughter relationship seemed to evolve.

Helena Bonham Carter was fairly good as the Red Queen, (Queen of Hearts actually, but I'm trying not to get too nitpicky) as she flew into rages and ordered "off with her head" at the least provocation.  However, in typical Burtonesque style, these murderous rages gained a much darker tone as we actually saw heads bobbing in the moat outside her castle.

I wanted very much to like Anne Hathaway as the White Queen, but to me she was the one downfall of the film.  Her mannerisms were extremely affected and over the top, which is quite a feat in an already about as high over the top as you can get film.  When she toned down the airy gestures, she was much more likeable as a Queen in search of her champion, but I wasn't terribly disappointed by the fact that she didn't get too much airtime.

The assorted inhabitants of Wonderland were all perfectly Wonderful, with the standouts for me being Stephen Fry as the deliciously sly Cheshire Cat and Alan Rickman as the abrasive, hookah-puffing Caterpillar, Absolem.

Overall, I thought the tone of the film perfectly captured the manic, zany feel of the books that the original 1951 Disney effort lacked.  The visuals were absolutely stunning, the depictions of all the characters was superb, and I felt that the story ended on the perfect note.  While this Alice may not be suitable for young children, I appreciate that Disney and Burton saw the adult qualities and messages in the story and let those moments shine.  Let the kids visit Wonderland, I'll spend my time dreaming of a visit to Underland.

Kind of A Fun Few Days

Oh, blog, how I have missed you while I've been busy dashing hither, thither and yon with a variety of amazing people.  Over the past week and a half I've conducted a grand tour of the Southeast and have been quite impressed with what I've found.

Last weekend I headed west for a girlie weekend in Atlanta with my dear friend Melissa.  We visited the Olympic park, ate at a delicious Italian restaurant (Baraonda, if you ever find yourself starving on Peachtree street), then discovered a bar that was serving $5 hurricanes.  Being that the origin of Melissa and my friendship is in our days at LSU and many of those days were spent wandering the streets of New Orleans, we were suitably impressed by this discovery.  After staying up until 4 am chatting about God knows what, we let ourselves sleep in and then headed out to brunch, ever so slightly after noon, and spent the rest of the day wandering around downtown, napping, and then eating some more.  It was a wonderful weekend, that in retrospect included a vast amount of caloric intake, but I wouldn't change a thing!

I returned home Monday and immediately transitioned into hostess mode, whizzing through the house cleaning and organizing before my parents arrived that evening.  They spent the week with us and we managed  to cram more Charleston sightseeing into that week than I've done in two months of living here.  We took a boat trip out to Fort Sumter, did a walking tour of historic Charleston, bought sweetgrass baskets at the downtown market, visited the Angel Oak on John's Island, toured the Charleston Tea Plantation where we sampled Charleston Breakfast tea, drove down to Georgia for a beautiful day in Savannah, and ate at scads of amazing restaurants.  It was such fun, and I'm more in love with Charleston now than ever.

My parents left yesterday, and today I'm getting back to my current version of real life.  I'm starting my first of the only three classes I have remaining in my Master's program before I can start student teaching, and I have piles of laundry yet to get through.  It sure would be nice to be retired and living down in the heart of Savannah with a battalion of hired help right about now!