Musings and Photoxploration from Olde Cape Cod

Honeymoon in Menemsha, pt1

2011-10-16T14:29:00.002-04:00

Some images from the cottage at which we stayed during our amazing Martha's Vineyard honeymoon. I have HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS more photos to share...let's do this bit by bit.

Marriage

2011-10-16T14:28:00.002-04:00

A deluge poured down outside the hotel room walls as I blinked my eyes open that morning, the rain pelting the glass, barely audible over the whirr of the industrial air conditioner. The king sized bed hugged me close, I haven't woken up alone in months.The sound of rain was surprisingly comfortable, it was a sign to me that it soon would stop and the sun, although not in the forecast at all, would indeed appear for me.And it did, the day was gorgeous, the ceremony perfect, the scenery amazing.We had an amazing party with family, friends, delicious food, killer music - everyone had a really excellent time - and as much as it went by in a blur, we'll remember it forever.The pictures tell a far better story than I ever could. Stay tuned for honeymoon images.

What I'm doing these days

2011-08-16T16:55:00.001-04:00

After many years in the radio biz..somehow I managed to make the leap to TV. Local, government access TV. I promise I'll write a proper entry soon...but for now, here's a snippet of my new life.

Baxter Grist Mill, Yarmouth MA

2011-05-17T21:21:00.002-04:00

Cambridge photoxploration

2011-03-26T05:16:00.001-04:00

Spring (?)

2011-03-24T17:20:00.000-04:00

..then again, we do live in New England.

2011-03-21T05:12:00.002-04:00

After spending most of the day inside, me finally making some room on my computer and Ricky updating his iTunes, we ventured out with the doggies for some much-needed fresh air and outside time.
Sunday's adventure took us to Eagle Pond in Cotuit and Long Beach in Centerville.

Sunrise

2011-03-20T07:50:00.001-04:00

After spending all day yesterday on the couch and going to bed nice and early, I woke at around 5 this morning and decided to get out of bed. While drinking my coffee, I noticed the large moon...I tried to chase it for a picture but it was gone by the time I left the house. So instead, I share with you some sunrise images from Veterans' Beach and Barnstable Harbor.

Changes

2011-03-18T06:56:00.001-04:00

I began this blog several years ago and titled it "Do I Really Have Time for This?" because that was the question I had - did I really have time to blog? And while I may not be that much of a prolific poster, I have found lately that I DO have time for this, and decided to change the title. For now, it's Musings and photoxploration on Cape Cod, because, well, that's what I do and that's what I write, and that's what you'll get. Stay tuned for more adventures (and a new masthead) because I really DO have time for this.

-S

Long Pasture Wildlife Sanctuary, Barnstable MA

2011-03-17T20:11:00.000-04:00

Fort Hill

2011-03-16T05:53:00.002-04:00

The Earth is slowly beginning to warm, days have grown longer. I spied a Robin in my front yard on Tuesday afternoon and the small sprouts of growth near the shed in the back yard. Walks through the woods have begun as well, as I traipse through the trees in an attempt to coax Spring through the earth with my camera lens.

In Marstons Mills Sunday, Ricky and I walked through trails of conservation land. The sky was a milky grey, the sun only showing itself at the end of our walk. The open field is still wearing its winter look, and some remnants of Fall still remain.

Tuesday afternoon I ventured with friends to one of my favorite places on the Cape. The Cape Cod National Seashore encompasses hundreds of acres of land on the Outer Cape, from Eastham to Provincetown. Tuesday's adventure took me to Fort Hill, a place I remember from childhood, a place I've been coming back to year after year. It's beautiful in all seasons. Follow along my first walk of the season, many more to come.

The trailhead snakes across a rolling field, offering a lovely vista of the Atlantic ocean and Nauset marsh system.

In a few short weeks, green sprouts will begin to emerge, fiddleheads will unfurl from the water, lining the boardwalk that weaves through the Red Maple swamp.

Lichen clings to this branch, signs of life in the still maple swamp.

The ancient white whale jawbone marks the entrance to the Penniman house.

The home of whaling captain Edward Penniman. This French Second Empire style home was constructed in 1868. Penniman sailed the seas of the world before retiring here in 1884.

Some say the third floor of the Penniman house is haunted...you decide!

The home is open for tours on occasion throughout the summer season. Locked up tight this time, though.

Very soon these branches will be sprouting leaves and providing places for birds' nests!

Lovely sweeping vista heading back up the hill to the parking lot.

The Nauset marsh beckons with its blue water, boaters will soon immerse their vessels in the water to enjoy the beauty of the Outer Cape.

Fort Hill, ca. 1984

Molly, Sarah, Josh

Feeding Miller

2010-12-09T15:40:00.000-05:00

Warning: Not for the faint of heart!

The cat, perched on the back of the couch, is staring intently into the glass tank on the bookcase. She slowly slunk her way up there, in the way cats do, once she spied the small white animal in Ricky's hands. The look on her face is part predatory and part terrified. I'm sure she's wondering how she can get at that mouse, but knows she can't because it's encased in glass. Also, there's the problem of the snake.

A burnt-orange corn snake named Miller is the newest addition to our family. He's been with us for about four months, after Ricky pulled him from the frame of a GMC Sierra that had been shipped to Cape Cod all the way from Hawaii.

No one's sure quite when he boarded the truck, all we know is that he rode along for free for a good portion of the ride and went virtually unnoticed for weeks. That is, until the truck's new owner's saw his little head poke out from the back and ran screaming from the driveway. Truthfully, the truck owner had knowledge there may be a snake involved - he'd seen Miller's newly shed skin curled up beneath the truck on the auto dealer's lot.

So when the truck owner contacted the dealer for help in removing this, er, little problem, the dealer wasn't sure quite where to turn. No one in the dealer's town wanted to help, in fact, there was a suggestion to exterminate the creature. Thankfully, the auto salesman knew of a friend of a friend who happened to be in the animal business and who happened to be quite knowledgeable about this particular type of creature. The next day, our hero Ricky met the truck's owner at the dealership, and after a few hours was able to successfully render the truck a snake-free environment. I even got to turn it into a news story.

We took Miller home to foster him until his future was decided. No one ever called to claim him, so we made him feel at home at HyWoo and he is now our pet. My housemate's kids love him, and are fascinated when Ricky takes him out of the tank.

Sheridan never did get at that mouse. Miller got to him first, coiling his body around and squeezing tight, opening his jaw wide and, well, you can imagine what comes next. Good thing Popeye eats kibble.

It's not unusual...

2010-11-28T16:12:00.003-05:00

"Tito Ralph," cried Johnny Pom-pom, "I heard you were put in jail."
"I escaped again," Tito Ralph said wanly. "I still had the keys."

I dog-ear the page of Steinbeck's Tortilla Flat and place it on my desk. I take a large sip of the last of my most recent bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau, check the progress of my upload and lean back on my wooden yard sale captain's chair in my lovely office in the house in Hyannis Woods and wonder how the hell I got here.

It occurs to me that the desk at which I am sitting has been set up in no less than five homes that I've occupied, has moved across Cape Cod and back and forth to Boston. I can't really recall if it was set up at all at the Belmont apartment; I used to conduct my business there at the dining room table.

The sun is slowly beginning to set in the lazy way it does at this time of year, when it knows it's got to go into hiding early and stay hidden until well after I'm up and at work. The leaves are almost completely gone from the trees; arthritic stick fingers pointing into the sky, piercing the horizon with a contrast of black on blue.

I take another sip of wine. I pet the dog that's come into my life, who loves me and whom I love in return. I stroll into the living room and observe the snake, out of hiding and staring at the cat. It's a bizarre, hilarious, and comforting picture, especially with the dog at my heels.

The smell of turkey wafts through the air. While Thanksgiving is a few days gone, we wanted leftovers and therefore I shall cook a mini Thanksgiving dinner for us here, complete with turkey, potatoes, cranberry sauce, and squash. I feel so comfortable, so relaxed, so at ease. Yet still I feel that nagging wanderlust; that curiosity that makes me wonder what else is out there for me. I do feel a lack of challenge lately, an ease of life and conversation that makes me comfortable, yet longing for more - for examination and dissection. I've been perusing maps of Monterey because that's where Tortilla Flat is set and also because the climate is perfect. According to online sources, the temperature never dips below sixty nor rises above eighty.

I wonder how the hell I got here. I've got a sparkling diamond ring on my finger, a ring that sat stoneless in my jewelry box for ages, that I used to wear around the house in hopes that someone would someday fill it, and now it is filled, completely in line with my fantasy. I love this home that we are building, together, I love that the living room is filled with music, that my nights are spent next to a warm and loving body, that I have companionship when I need it and solitude when it's necessary.

At this time two years ago I was traipsing around the city unknowingly at the end of a long and arduous relationship. Upon reflection, there was some good, but lots of bad, in that situation. We had fallen into a pattern of comfort, of routine - and whereas there is little I miss about that, the routine I had become comfortable with. When I came back to Cape Cod the shock of losing that routine was surprisingly difficult to deal with. Springtime came to 2009, with cherry blossoms lining the streets of the Back Bay, but before they bloomed I was borne away on a current to the Cape on a blustery day. After shooting photos all day in a cramped and sweaty room I found myself running down a leaf-scattered rainy and windy Hyannis Main Street to meet a stranger who would eventually lure me back to the peninsula. And after that fell apart, I, by chance, met the man who will someday be my husband.

It was another cold day on Main Street when I blew into a bar with a friend, who was meeting her friend, who is the man I now have a life with. It still throws me for a loop, even after us being together for more than half a year, for living together for two and a half months, I still wonder how it happened. The universe works in such unusual ways.

I look at the spindly tree tops outside my office window. Here, my dark wooden desk glows in the lamplight, my ancient bookcase full of my favorites is to my left, my guitar to my right, my camera equipment to my back. The things I've collected over the years. The plant I grew from a single leaf, that sat on the window ledge by my desk at my most favorite office in the world - that plant is now large and has blossomed for me several times, like clockwork it produces a flower once every six months; heralding the spring and the fall. My bookcase, that used to be in my room at my parents' house and has been with me for nearly two decades.

I like this feeling of calm and security. I like the fact that we can go out and get wild every now and then. I like that I cam spend a Sunday alone, happy as a clam, working on photo projects, reading, cooking, cleaning, drinking wine...and I am happy.

She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass and raised it to her lips. And just before she drank it, she said...

Life, in brief

2010-10-28T08:09:00.001-04:00

So.

On a typical weekday evening, you can find us imbibing and cooking, talking and listening to music, making dinner and resting from the day. I moved in with Rick in September, and it's been an interesting month and a half, to say the least. The warm days of summer have faded away into a cool and rainy Fall, with a little uncertainty sprinkled into life. But what is life without its stumbling blocks, these are the things that strengthen us and make the happiest times glow a bit brighter.

Working these early morning hours is taking its toll..I'm starting to long for a normal work schedule. I do morning radio, my work day begins at 4:30 am and I find myself more often than not just rolling out of bed around 4:20 (or later) and sliming my way into work. It's hard to try and balance a good life with this kind of work..you really have to be a big loner in order for a career like this to function properly. Plus, you have to be a bit nuts.

I'm still in awe of the fact that I have to come up with wedding plans of my own, and the more I think about it, the more I want a simple, scaled down ceremony, just close friends and family. Both of us agree, it's about so much more than just A Day, it's about beginning a life of love together, and whether the union is made legal in a big ceremony or a small room at Town Hall, it's going to be just as meaningful because it's between the two of us. Plans have drifted from a Spanish-moss filled ceremony in a historic Savannah square, a simple exchange of vows on a Cape Cod beach...but again, however it's done it will be special because it is ours.

Rick's Olde English bulldog Popeye has welcomed me into his life as well. I've never lived with a dog. I've had friends with dogs, my brother and sister are both dog owners, but I've never had one with me day to day..and it is an amazing thing to love a dog and to have a dog love you. Last night we allowed Popeye to come up on the bed and snuggle his wrinkly face between us before sending him on his way to sleep on his dog-bed on the floor (but of course several times over the course of the night I awoke to find his body nestled up against mine).

About a month ago, we motorcycled down to the beach to watch the moon rise. It was a full moon, and Rick had seen it high in the sky the night before, when I was at class. We made it to the beach in time to see the moon rise and were met with a vision of a cloud cover skirting the horizion. I was not hopeful that we'd catch a glimpse of the moon, but Rick urged me to hold on, to wait, to be patient...

...and it did. It peeked its way, tentatively, through the clouds, offering us a little peek here and there until it burst above the clouds and showed us its beauty.

Sometimes there are things in life that are worth waiting for, it is often a good idea to slow down and appreciate what's around you instead of hurriedly rushing through, waiting to get to whatever's next, because otherwise you just might miss something amazing.

2010-08-17T21:53:00.000-04:00

IS GETTING MARRIED. More after the break. So happy.

2010-06-16T08:17:00.009-04:00

We are sunburned and tired but still so very happy. It's been a whirlwind almost-two-months full of motorcycle rides and beach trips and walks on the beach and in the woods and exploring and discovery and bicycle rides and strolls down the street and drinks at the harbor and on main street and dinner parties in the Village and grilling on the grill and planning for the future and dancing at Harry's and hanging out at the best dive bar I've ever seen and lots of love and affection and oh did I mention happiness?

Zipping across Cape Cod on the back of a motorcycle, the wind blowing in my face, it almost feels like you're flying. Cutting across the landscape in search of windy, twisting, fun roads, seeking out the beautiful vistas and hidden spots in this lovely place of ours, holding on tight and feeling a sense of contentedness that I've never felt before. There's so much I want to say. Some of the most wonderful days of my life have occurred in the last month and a half. All the coldness of the winter melted away into an actual spring on Cape Cod, the best I've seen in my years on this peninsula.

It all started innocently enough, with a good friend bringing a new friend to an impromptu dinner party at my house in the Village. We got along right away, and after a few weeks it was evident that we needed to spend more time together, and did, and since then have been practically inseparable. It's hard to explain, how quickly it all happened, how amazing it feels, how we fell in love in a matter of weeks..so I won't try to explain it, I'll just enjoy it.

Flip flopping

2010-04-26T16:55:00.002-04:00

Two new posts up at my photo blog .

A trip to a Modernist house on the Outer Cape

The Cape Cod Songwriters' Competition

Check them out and enjoy!

2010-03-28T17:29:00.002-04:00

I've been feeling a bit like a local celebrity lately. Earlier this month, I attended Barnstable County's Conference for Children Youth and Families, as a special guest of the county. As a teenager, I was part of the Cape Cod Youth Congress and Cape Cod Youth Council, two organizations that most definitely changed my life. Being a part of the Council brought me out of my shell, introduced me to some amazing people, and set me on the right path for my career and the life I've been living so far. Both of those programs were run by the county. They call me a "success story", because I have a prominent place in my job and my community, and I love going and giving back. While there, I saw many local politicians, high school principals, and other members of the community that recognized me - what a feeling.

Last week, I was honored to be part of the Arts Foundation of Cape Cod's Creative Collaborative Conference. Not only did I attend a fabulous session on the modern houses on the Cape Cod National Seashore (more on that later), I was part of a panel which included the editor of the Cape's daily newspaper (the Cape Cod Times); two other radio hosts, local magazine publishers, and editors of two local weeklies. To be included among a group of people whose words I've read and listened to over the years, to look over and see them as my peers and colleagues, filled me with pride and love for my job and my community. After the panel, people actually came up to me and said they listened and wanted to meet me!! I felt like a celebrity.

Here Comes The Sun

2010-03-17T16:01:00.002-04:00

Earlier today I found myself standing on a sandy strip of beach, staring out over pristine sparkling blue water at cottage-dotted dunes. The sun, shining brightly overhead, beamed its warm, happy rays on my face; the wind brought the scent of warm sand and sea to my nose, the breeze tickling my skin and touching my soul. Free, I stood on the shoreline, in arguably one of the most gorgeous places in the entire world, feeling the spring creep in and wash away the discomfort and pain of the cold wet winter days that are now almost past us. The sunshine and the sparkling sea ahead of me, I stretched out my arms and smiled, knowing this is the place that I call home.

It was three o'clock on an almost-spring afternoon, I had nothing to do but enjoy the day, just for me, and explore. I walked on. Past summer homes, empty now that will soon no doubt be hosting families, children, businessmen and women escaping the heat of the city for the cool breeze of the cape. Youngsters will soon play in the sand, the sun turning their soft skin brown; people will shop and eat and crowd the streets, young adults will swig beer into the wee hours, play games and fall in love.

Those of us who live here year-round, who grew up with the Cape's cold desolate winters are the ones who can truly appreciate the beauty when the warmth returns, we know how lonely the empty winter days can be and the oppressive nature of the depression that loves to sink its grey teeth into all of us every February.

Red radio in hand I strode on down the sand, feeling the sun beam down and taking deep, long inhales of the invigorating shore air. I spied a bench at a landing, sat down and scribbled some notes, sat for a moment to soak in the beauty of it all. I have a chance to live my life just for me, to answer to no one and no thing except my own desires. I love my job, as much as it makes my wallet sigh, it's perfect for me and represents years of hard work and ambition, a love for my community, for my home, that I get to reflect every day for hundreds, maybe thousands of people.

I spied a grassy path leading up from the beach, and seeing as all I had to do was explore, I turned and walked up the path, then followed it down a one-lane paved road dotted with summer cottages waiting for their part-time occupants. I walked past the marsh and stopped to watch water rush through a culvert. As I turned on to the main road I passed a sun dappled green lawn bursting with purple crocuses, dotting the field like so many colored stars.

Spring is upon us, and I am overjoyed at the prospects of spending the summer on Cape Cod - the best place for summer I can possibly imagine. And I've got it all to myself, to go to the beach, to go for walks, to dance in the rain and to enjoy my life, for me - the way I've always wanted.

The Open Mic

2010-01-07T20:02:00.005-05:00

Snow is melting from the soles of my 25 cent combat boots, forming miniature puddles that quickly turn into little tributaries flowing across the well-worn wooden floor of the bar. My blue sweater is soft and warm against my flesh, my Salvation Army jeans comfortably hugging my hips, purple shoelaces peeking out from their dark blue cuffs. The better part of two Guinness draughts have found their way inside my body, now they're sloshing around in my stomach and soothing my frayed system. It's warm here, in temperature, in lighting and in mood, a crowd of people are gathered at the bar, laughing, talking, commiserating. It's four days 'til Christmas; a snowy post-blizzard Monday night in a toasty Irish bar on Cape Cod. There are new friends and strangers, folks yet to meet, and folks that pass through without even so much as a nod.

At this moment a familiar, yet very new sound is echoing through this subterranean bar. I'm standing down on the stage with my guitar strapped to my body and my voice escaping from somewhere deep inside me, carrying the melody of a song I've sung for so many years (mostly behind safely closed bedroom doors in solitude). butomgpeopleareLISTENINGTOME! The guitar sounds clear and bright, amplified thanks to a borrowed pickup. I hear my voice over the sound system, but I'm not really there. My heavy-booted feet are firmly planted on the ground, my hands forming chords on the fretboard, bracelets jangling on my wrist, my voice moving on electric currents. The songs just come, I take a risk and play a song that always seems to have something missing, but this time comes out effortlessly and to me, perfect. I really can never be sure what it sounded like to the other patrons in the bar, the beer drinkers and the music makers, but I know I felt included among them, part of them. On the stage, the life force was evident in me - and for that, it was worth all the nerves. What I find interesting is that I'm more than determined not to mess it up because I know I can't go back - and People Are Listening To Me and Watching Me Play.

The previous week, in another bar, on a much less snow covered night, I'd done it, but it was a nerve-wracked, wavering-voice, virgin performance. I'll chalk it up to "first-time jitters". So I'll keep going back.

I've messed around with an acoustic guitar for many years, since I was a young thing in my early 20s, a solitary sort who liked to sit in her bedroom and read and spend hours alone contemplating life and finding things to DO. She liked spending time alone, with herself and her music. Slowly, slowly, tentatively and unsurely I'm rediscovering this girl, I'm fighting my way out of the egg, of the life I used to know, back to the life I knew before that one. Changed and different. I am inspired to learn more on the instrument, to be able to accompany my voice in the way I'd like to. I sang for years and years, in elementary school, high school and college. A first soprano I no longer am, but the basic voice is still there..and I'd like to see where it goes.

Funny, every morning I talk to hundreds, maybe thousands of people on Cape Cod, my voice broadcasting the news on two 50,000 watt, rather popular radio stations. Being yourself, raw and open in front of a group of Real Live People is just a hair different from reading a script in a booth all by yourself.

See you at the next one.

2009-12-31T18:48:00.001-05:00

2010 is going to be an amazing year. I am starting it living my dream, in a fabulous home all to myself, with a new mindset and a fresh start. I have dreams that I will begin to materialize this year, I have songs to sing and life to live, photos to take and promises to make and keep. I have a community to support and a sense of self to uphold and nurture. Bring it on, I'm so ready.

The Robots

2009-11-02T05:10:00.003-05:00

Halloween. Amazing.
We got up early on Saturday morning and ran a 5k in these costumes. Later, we headed down to Main Street Hyannis and walked amongst the children gathered for the town's trick or treat event. The response was unbelievable. Robots are cool!

Wedding Weekend!

2009-10-26T07:18:00.001-04:00

My friends Rob and Sara got married this weekend.

My good friends Jenny and Nathan came down from Boston on Friday. I picked them up at the bust station and brought them back to my house, where Ben was waiting and had put out appetizers and warmed up the house. We went out to Main Street for a while, met friends and commisserated with the husband-and-wife to be prior to their nupitals.

They had a lovely Catholic ceremony in a beautiful church in Centerville on Saturday afternoon, it rained a bit but all in all was a lovely New England fall day.

At the wedding, I caught up with my friend Jackie - we played violin together in elementary school and haven't had a chance to properly catch up in more than a decade.

Ben had a gig earlier in the day, but was able to join us at the reception - and even made it before dinner so we could all enjoy the evening together.

He cleans up nicely...

He managed to take this fabulous photo of me. He's truly talented at whatever he does.

Back on the grid!

2009-09-21T19:29:00.001-04:00

So, I moved to Cape Cod about a month ago. I moved into my cottage three weeks ago tonight. And finally, I have Internet. O home Interwebs, how have I missed thee? My news updates in the morning, blogs in the evening, random Facebooking and photo uploading, WORK on my website, all coming back to me now. I have tons and tons to say and upload and show, pics of the palace here on Cape Cod, stories from the air - you name it, I've got it. Coming soon, this time, frealz, peeps.

A sense of peace.

2009-09-07T04:52:00.002-04:00

Today is September 7, and I've been on Cape Cod now more or less full-time since mid-August. I've finally moved into my new home, a lovely, gorgeous, perfect cottage nestled into the woods of Barnstable Village. It's a dream house, for certain. A strange feeling has settled over me in the last week, and I dare say it's a sense of peace and relaxation that I haven't felt in years. Having my own space is everything I ever wanted, and to have a beautiful home and a lovely backyard and an amazing partner is just more than I could have ever hoped for. Work is going swimmingly, I'm so enjoying doing the news on Cape again and being in charge. My staff is excellent, smart and talented. Photos and more soon, but peace has been achieved. I've been cooking, I made a fantastic vegeterian lasagne on Friday, French toast on Saturday morning, and awesome egg sandwiches on Sunday morning. I'm looking forward to an abbreviated day today, and an afternoon of finishing my unpacking and shopping and wine later. Yes, I said wine.

Nice Words

2009-08-12T18:34:00.001-04:00

My co-worker, Jim has some really nice words to say about me on his work-related blog. Figured I'd send y'all over there to check it out. I'm going to miss Jim & the crew over at Marketing Messages.

Home, it's where I want to be...

2009-07-27T15:16:00.004-04:00

Home, it's where I want to be, pick me up and turn me 'round

Sometimes, life hands you opportunities that you have just got to take, no matter how crazy or far-out they may seem at first. And sometimes, those opportunities may be cloaked in serendipity--that is, finding something you were looking for when you were looking for something else.

I had a plan. I had a lease. I was going to move to Waltham at the end of the summer and stay in the city, stay at my job, and continue commuting down to the Cape every weekend to see my love -- or have him come and stay with me on the weekends.

But then, the Monkey Wrench occurred. I got a phone call, a job offer...that I spent several days thinking about, going back and forth on, pros and cons, and ultimately realized that this opportunity, this chance -- is one I would never get again, and one I would be foolish to say no to (even though it means taking a pay cut).

Oh Cape Cod, I long for your sandy shores and your familiar streets...and I've missed my voice being carried on waves across your land. So, I'm coming back. To the place, people, and life I love. See you soon, Cape Cod...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGa52pQ-z4E

Mariaville

2009-07-22T05:28:00.004-04:00

The stars in the night sky flicker and shine, they're all visible up there, in brilliant bright whites, reds, greens, and yellows...the Milky Way shimmering across the seemingly infinite plane of night. I've never seen anything like it, and had no idea the sky could look like that. I noticed it while standing in a muddy parking lot late at night, music coming over the hill, laser lights piercing, enhancing the night sky. Did I mention I went on vacation?

Looking up, the early morning dawn just a few hours away, I saw the sky as a large rectangular plane, its sheer vastness overwhelming, mindblowing, mind-boggling. Music floating up from car speakers, laughter and voices, silence and mud. Music. People. Love.

Five days of forests and lake, roads and city, peace and relaxation. Of good people, good food, good conversation. It's vague, I know, but it was wonderful. I'm changed because of it.

2009-07-01T10:42:00.001-04:00

The cold Atlantic nips at my bare toes as I stand on the shore watching the ocean churn. The waves ebb forward, inching closer to my feet before quickly pulling back, drawn up into a new wave, to repeat the cycle, over and over...the water creeps up to cover the shore and flows back to reveal it, every twelve hours a cycle is completed. When the moon is full the tide is large, swollen, at times dangerous. Thoughts come freely in the ocean mist, the quietness of the beach broken only by the cries of seagulls and the laughter of children in the distance. It is here I come to contemplate, it is here I come to renew.

Back at the office, the flickering fluorescent lights cast shadows on the glowing computer screen and my eyes fight to focus. I stare at a picture of a little girl and hope I am living up to the dreams she once had. Sometimes it's hard to remember what those dreams were. I remember standing in the warm sun in tall grasses, listening to the wind rustle the dry, crispy blades. If I concentrate hard enough, I can feel the warm breeze of those summers on my face, but it's hard to think of summer under these lights and when the clouds don't seem to want to budge.

Behind the wheel I drive the familiar stretch of highway, long and short at the same time, a physical representation of distance and time. I'm glad for the lack of traffic as my foot presses down on the pedal, the engine grows louder as my speed increases, my mind starts to wander yet again. For the first time in so many years I feel as though I am on the right path, I feel as though I'm traveling in the right direction...but I have to constantly remind myself that I'm not yet out of the woods, that there's still work to be done, work both tangible and metaphysical.

I'm pulled back to the water's edge, the gentle sound of the waves works to calm my racing mind. Breathe in. Breathe out. You're going to be just fine.

2009-06-29T14:36:00.001-04:00

The sun is starting to tentatively show its lovely face again, peeking through the clouds and giving us small but satisfying glimpses of its warm Vitamin-D filled self. I'd like to see more of it in the coming days. July is full of promise and plans and excitement, I've just come off another weekend of fun and bliss. Progressing slowly but surely into the future.

2009-06-22T14:09:00.002-04:00

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud...

The rain, the rain the rain. The beautiful and soothing rain has fallen into a pattern of overload, grey skies and wet roads surround me and even the smallest glimpse of sun feels like a fleeting bit of heaven...but the clouds scoot back so swiftly it's all I can do to hold my broken self together.

I will admit that's a tad melodramatic, I'm in the middle of an unraveling that calls forth all sorts of emotions on both sides of the spectrum. It feels good and bad and scary and exhilarating all at the same time. I only hope I have the strength inside me to endure this ride to the end.

Otherwise, life is beautiful, and I have very special people to thank for that...you know who you are...and you mean the world to me.

2009-05-19T13:24:00.003-04:00

If you lose your faith, babe, you can have mine
And if you're lost, I'm right behind
cause we walk the same line.

During the years I spent working on Main Street in Hyannis I had a weekly tradition. Every Friday, I'd walk or bike to the bank to deposit my paycheck, go down the street to Way's Center News, buy a magazine (usually Vanity Fair), a pack of cigarettes and three $1 lottery tickets, then stop at Caffe E Dolce and grab a sandwich. In the summer months, I'd cross the street to the village green, plop myself down underneath the large shade tree in front of the town hall, remove my shoes, eat my sandwich and enjoy an hour in the sun. I can easily say that during those days, I LIVED for those lunch hours. The sun, the grass, the relaxation I felt during that short time was bliss.

Needless to say, I've missed those lunch hours terribly. The last year I was on the Cape, I worked two jobs, back-to-back, so rarely had time to just sit and enjoy my lunch hour. And then I moved to Boston, and while I tried to resurrect the tradition in Boston Common, it just wasn't the same. Plus, I only had a half-hour for lunch, and that isn't nearly enough time.

But last week, I discovered that not only is there a soccer field across the street from my office (I see it every day), but that soccer field extends farther than I thought. Today, I rounded the corner by the Tedeschi's and found a beautiful lush green field opening out before me, and there, far away enough from the playground and tennis courts, was a lovely large tree, just begging to be sat beneath. I'd purchased lunch in preparation for my picnic--but didn't realize just how wonderful it would be. A nice warm breeze, a Vanity Fair, my Ipod, sunshine...I took off my shoes and felt the soft grass beneath my feet. I read my magazine, I smoked a cigarette, I breathed in the air. I thought to myself, WHY do I normally spend my lunch hour in front of this computer? Not any more. I kept my shoes off as I walked across the field, grass beneath toes and sunshine warming my skin.

And on an unrelated topic, this song is stuck in my head. Guess what's going on the turntable when I get home?

Boogie Down

2009-05-01T22:52:00.002-04:00

The music is flowing through my Ipod and into my ears as I step up to the front of the bus to disembark. I notice the driver gesturing towards me, so I remove an earbud. "I dropped you off last night," he says. "Didn't you see me wave to you?" I look, confused--I didn't remember that particular driver from the night before. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. "It was definitely you," he says. "You hopped off the bus and danced down the street." "THAT," I say, "was DEFINITELY me. It's my M.O."

I jumped off the bus with a smile on my face as I headed in to Harvard Station to catch a train downtown. My thoughts wandered to a night a few weeks earlier. I'd gone to Brighton on a Thursday night, to meet with friends and share some drinks. I was wearing my new shoes--black and white patent leather lace-up heels that just beg to be danced in. On the way back from the bar, belly full of beer, I strolled down the street, listening to music. The Specials' "Pressure Drop" came on, and my feet immediately started to do a dance down the street. That particular song always makes me feel good, always makes me feel like doing a dance, no matter if I'm in the grocery store, in my car, or on the sidewalk. So here I am, around 11 pm on a balmy Thursday night, grooving my way down the sidewalk, sidestepping, hopping, boogie-ing, whatever it is the kids are calling it these days. Completely lost and consumed in my own world, in my own moment and the thoughts in my head. Perfect, happy moment. Then I looked up. And stared right into the window of a state trooper's cruiser. Fortunately, the trooper had a smile on his face. I removed one earbud to hear what he had to say. "You all right?" "Never better," I say, "Never better."

2009-05-01T09:32:00.000-04:00

..Sometimes its like someone took a knife baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
Through the middle of my soul

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
And a freight train running through the middle of my head

Bad Blogger!

2009-04-14T06:37:00.002-04:00

I have been such a bad blogger lately...in between photo jobs and work and manically checking Facebook every .0005 seconds, I have found little time to READ blogs, let alone write my own. And it's not like I have nothing to say--in fact, there's a hell of a lot going on right now, lots of things that are a tad difficult to put into words. I'm still here, i'm still alive, i'm still pining for the warm weather that spring SHOULD be bringing.

I stood on the beach this weekend, stood at the edge of the powerful Atlantic and watched the wild waves roll in, form in curved tubes then crash on the shore..over and over and over again. There's nothing quite like the SOUND of the ocean, it's enough to make a person go all weak in the knees.

I love it when a plan comes together...

2009-04-05T20:10:00.002-04:00

For lack of a better word, I've been feeling rather manic lately. So this weekend I decided to take it slow, relax, and get to some loooong overdue work on my side business, Sarah Colvin Photography. And you know what, it was totally worth it.

After relaxing, meditating, and going to bed early yesterday, I woke up with a renewed sense of self. The sunshine streaming through my bedroom window certainly didn't hurt. I got up early and started in on my work, updating my website like crazy, creating some galleries, linking linking linking...and during all of this work, got 2 phone calls looking for my services. It felt like a real, true WORK day--for nothing more than something I've built on my very own. And you know what? It feels pretty darned good.

2009-04-02T15:03:00.002-04:00

Like tiny leaves falling from the trees in spring, those that grasped on all winter, through the cold and wind...those tiny leaves fall off now, heading southward, to make way for new buds to form. The spring grays are here...it's been spring now for more than a week and so few of those days have been graced with the sun's light. But I can feel the stirrings of spring, deep down, twisted and knotty like the trunk of an old apple tree, stirring slightly and bursting with life, inside. I've been dead for too long, I think, and only now am beginning to awaken from the dark night of winter.

The core of my eye fluctuates between brilliant blue and brown, the green creeping in and out, depending on my mood. My mind races a million miles an hour and I can't seem to stop it.

This is just a stream of consciousness, an effort to put words to whatever it is that's going on inside my brain, inside my head...I can't seem to write for just myself any more, so I do it here. And so it ends, here...only to be continued.

2009-03-19T14:05:00.002-04:00

I'm standing in the laundromat talking to myself, again. I've got an eye on the dryers, slowly tumbling my clothes around in hypnotic circles. I spent the first 20 minutes sidled up to a spinning washing machine, trying to make my way through the first few pages of Foucault's Pendulum. I picked up the yellowed paperback at a bookstore on the Cape many years ago and have been meaning to pick it up ever since.

The 73 keeps going by in pairs, it's rush hour. I remember being crammed on that hot and stinky bus, loud people, loud children, rushed commuters and tired workers. Without music the ride was sheer torture. I like my bicycle much better.

Single lines for stories keep popping into my head. "The bus pulls away, and I'm still standing on the curb." "Dynamite." The last word leads me on a long, spoken out-loud diatribe about Wile E Coyote, the Roadrunner, and an ACME box of TNT--you know the kind, the one with the big plunger on the top...the one that inevitably blows up in the Coyote's face instead of getting the roadrunner...but I digress, just like I was doing last night while my clothes were spiraling towards some semblance of cleanliness.

I keep watching the buses go by. Two towards Waverly. Two towards Harvard. Sometimes it stops outside the Laundorama, sometimes it whizzes by, no passengers to board.

I keep wishing I had one of those personal tape recorders. I envision myself pushing the button and starting to speak, lovely lines of verse spewing forth. Of course if I did have one, there'd always be someone else there, doing their laundry, listening to the private rantings of a crazy woman. Not that I'm crazy, but wouldn't you think so if you saw someone talking to themselves in the Laundorama? Yeah, that's what I thought.

I see a few runners go by, jogging along the sidewalk, sidestepping trash that the newly melted snowbanks have only just recently revealed. It dawns on me that I haven't put my running shoes on in months...and that I really need to pay up on my gym membership so I can go back. I despise being out of my regular gym routine, but I still long for the classes I took when I went to the gym in Hyannis...I miss them dearly but know that if I ever want to get in shape I have to go. I love the gym. I need to give them my money.

Eventually the driers finish and I fold the clothes...I have to do it at the laundromat or else they'll sit, unfolded, for days--and then eventually get mixed with the dirty clothes and it will be a mess all over again.

Such is the cycle.

Going, Going, Gone...

2009-03-12T13:00:00.000-04:00

Evidence The First:

Summer 2008

Evidence The Second:

November 2009

Evidence The Third:

Present Day

Summer

2009-03-10T12:26:00.003-04:00

The sound of rigging clanging happily against a metal sailboat mast, the wind rustling the yet-to-be hoisted sail..the lapping of the gentle water against the hull. The sound of the ocean kissing the shore, rushing in, moving closer or ebbing away, depending on the time of day. The parking lot, hot under bare feet, sand whirling across the pavement in curved lines. The sounds of splashing, of playing and swimming, the scent of coconut, or Bain de Soleil wafting on the warm breeze. Suntanned skin with sand sticking to legs, to arms, tangled in salty hair. The loudness and silence of the beach all at once, the seagulls crying, laughter and warmth.

From practically the day I was born throughout my entire childhood, the beach was summer. Carrying beach chairs, towels, Dukes of Hazzard and Star Wars toys, a plastic pitcher filled with lemonade or Juicy Juice, a veritable caravan of children, Mom, and stuff--to stake our claim way out on the end of Pleasant Bay, where Jackknife Cove begins, where we would spend our days swimming, floating, going around the bend in various blow-up toys that were most likely purchased at the Ben Franklin or Bradlees. There are hundreds of pictures of me, Josh, Molly and our mom, hanging out and soaking up the sun. To me, it was what summer was all about--when you grow up on a sandspit, what else are you going to do? I had no idea that not everyone gets to go to the beach all day, every day, in the summertime. And luckily enough, having a dad that worked at the local boatyard gave us access to motorboats and sailboats and dinghys...so add in some boating, to Fox Hill or North Beach or wherever...and that was it. So idyllic, so spoiled was my childhood, and I had no idea.

As I grew older, I didn't go to the beach as much...work got in the way, and my summer tan faded. I spent many years pale, white, untouched by the sun's rays, instead developing photos indoors during the summer months. Even in the past ten or so years, even when I still lived on Cape Cod, the beach was maybe a once-a-summer jaunt, full of lots of drinking and cavorting.

Now that I'm in the city, I long for the beach, even if it is just to drive out and look at the waves, to center myself along the shoreline. I didn't get to my dear Cape much last summer, but hopefully with the coming warm months, that will all change. I need to get back to the beach.

Boston Cream (Birthday) Pie

2009-03-05T08:53:00.003-05:00

Lucas requested a Boston Cream Pie for his birthday, and seeing as I love to bake, I decided to take the task on. I found a great recipe at Allrecipes.com, and got to work yesterday evening. It was fairly easy, although I haven't attempted this complex of a recipe in many, many years. I really enjoy making things from scratch, and this recipe included all sorts of things I had never used before (cake flour, cornstarch, etc.). The cake part was fairly straightforward..but then I had to use the STOVE *gasp* to make a CUSTARD *gaspx2*. I am a little skittish when it comes to boiling dairy products..and felt a little antsy about the whole thing, but all in all it came out VERY well. It was interesting to watch the custard form in the saucepan, and even more fun to make the chocolate frosting (yummmmm). Many eggs, lots of sugar, lots of butter--definitely not the most healthy of recipes, but it sure was tasty.

I presented it after dinner, and was a tad nervous about the custard...because not only had I never made a custard before, I don't think I've actually EATEN one before. And it was only when I put the first bite in my mouth that I realized I've never even eaten a Boston Cream Pie before. Lucas, however, has--and he declared the recipe a success. With this cake/pie being such a success...it's on to more new things for me. Stay tuned!!

Back On The Bike (What a Long Strange Week It's Been)

2009-02-27T20:11:00.002-05:00

It all started on Wednesday...I took a half-day at work for some meetings, then met my friend Danielle downtown for some wine and conversation about her upcoming wedding (which I'm photographing). We had a lovely time at Ruth's Chris, nice wine and fancy appetizers. Walking back to the train, down familiar Tremont Street, I ran into another friend..doubled back and had a few more glasses of wine and great conversation at the Omni Parker House bar. It is so rare that I run in to people I know on the street, rarer still that I have an hour or so free, and even more rare that I have cash on me. The universe must like me this week. Hopped back on the train and headed into Harvard, to meet with Lucas and an old friend of his, one who I've heard much about but never actually met..what a strange and interesting evening. Several more glasses of wine followed and somehow I tumbled into bed, a fitful, restless sleep. Work on Thursday was a trial, super hungover and head pounding, Spanish voice prompts and confusion. Another old friend messaged me on Facebook..another one who I've never met, but have been corresponding with for years over the Internet. I knew her husband in high school, but know her only online. We had a simply fantastic dinner, as fantastic as a Friday's in Framingham can be, but again, more wine and more wonderful conversation.

Friday morning my alarm goes off an hour and a half later than normal, as scheduled by me, knowing that an 11:30 pm bedtime does not lend itself to an easy 5AM awakening. The sun shone down on my pillow as I awoke, and the warm weather beckoned. Showering and looking at the sun out the window, I knew today was the day to haul the bike up from the basement and leave my car in the driveway.

And that was precisely what I did. A quick scurrying to find my equipment--helmet, shoes, socks, bike jersey--and a wonderful amount of help from Lucas (pumping up my tires and handing over the bike pump in case I got a flat)..and I was off. There is nothing more to me that signasl the coming of spring than the season's first ride--and even more wonderful when that ride takes place in February. This morning was a balmy 45 degrees (I think), with a light wind and sunshine. The ride to work was simply fantastic, fresh air and sun--I even broke a sweat. Outside. In February.

I felt rejuvenated when I went to work, two nights worth of heavy wine drinking lifted off my shoulders, fresh air in my lungs, my muscles singing from use.

Most days, in the summer months, I am a full time bike commuter. Soon, (yet I know it's months off), I will be sweating after a mile, in nothing more than a tank top and bike shorts. But today, in my layers and long pants, on a day in February where here in Boston all the snow has yet to melt and the street sweepers haven't culled all the winter debris off the road--I rode my bike to work. And I will do it again as soon as I can. And even though it's February, I know that the warm weather isn't too far off..it can't be, now that I'm back on the bike.

A lack of inspiration leads to a generic post...

2009-02-23T19:25:00.001-05:00

Things have been busy, which is good. I am always happiest when I am busy. Work swelled to an all-time high a couple weeks ago, which was great. It is still busy, but not AS busy, and I'm hungry for more. I always find myself at a loss for things to do when it gets slow at work...sometimes I wish I did not have the Internet as a distraction, and even when I tell myself to stay off I find myself wondering what is going on out there, in the big common area where everyone is always hanging out.

I've been taking a lot of photos lately, which I love. I'm wishing for another couple of lenses, and perhaps a pair of Alien Bees..and I have a wedding job coming up this summer that may pay for just that. Things at the studio are going well, I'm getting used to the space and my fellow co-op members. It's nice. Plus, I discovered that I can indeed open the skylight, which lets in some lovely natural light (BIG PLUS).

I'm eagerly awaiting springtime, and the rush of warm weather that will rejuvenate my soul. I'm also very anxious to get back to a 2-wheeled form of transportation, my beloved bike. It's in the basement now...waiting for it's springtime tune-up and to be ridden once again. Every time I drive to work, I dream of my cycling commute, get excited about going up those big hills.

Anyways, that's about all I have in me right now, so enjoy some of my recent work...

A Brief History of Me, According to Music

2009-02-19T19:31:00.002-05:00

So there's this thing that's been going around on Facebook, maybe you've seen it-- the 20 most influential albums in your life. Writing this earlier today, I realized just how much music shaped my life, and how distinctly I can remember times in my life by what i was listening to, and vice versa.

So here's the list, as copied from my Facebook note written earlier today. I would encourage you to try this yourself--it's both harder and easier than you could ever imagine.

From the meme...Think of 20 albums that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life or the way you looked at it. They sucked you in and took you over for days, weeks, months, years. These are the albums that you can use to identify time, places, people, emotions. These are the albums that no matter what they were thought of musically shaped your world. When you finish, tag others you might think would enjoy this, including me. Make sure you copy and paste this part so they know the drill. Get the idea now? Good. Tag, you're it!

I can't really say that there are albums that "changed my life" but there is certainly music that has shaped it. The list below runs the gamut from albums that I grew up listening to that to this day remind me of my childhood, to current favorites. Even today, I prefer to listen to albums in their entirety, as opposed to single songs arranged randomly on my Ipod. A rainy day, a record album, and a glass of wine---there ain't nothin' better. Have fun. --skc

1. The Beatles - White Album / Revolver / Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
To this day, I cannot listen to the Beatles without thinking of my childhood. These records were constantly on the turntable from the time I was born until much later. It is magical music that holds such sentimental joy for me, that I really try and not listen to it all the time, in order to save the magic.

2. Joni Mitchell - Blue
My mom used to sing songs from this album when I was a child (specifically Carey). It was much later that I realized that she did not write them. I still prefer her version, and even though I listen to this album regularly, it still makes me tear up. Every. Single. Time.

3. James Taylor - Greatest Hits
Another childhood staple. Don't even get me started on Sweet Baby James.

4. Huey Lewis & The News - Sports
I know, random, huh? One year for Christmas, I think it was 1985, my dad bought my mom a little boom-box and a set of 5 tapes--I think they were the top 5 albums of the year. This one, along with Phil Collins' No Jacket Required and Hall & Oates, got played ALL THE TIME. Huey Lewis reminds me of driving to Fort Hill or Highland Light, all of us kids and my mom in the car, the boom box on one of our laps, jamming out to the music.

5. Michael Jackson - Thriller
Thriller came out when I was in elementary school. I remember some of the kids at school sporting red faux-leather jackets just to look like Michael Jackson. It was totally rad. Me and my brother and sister used to crank this thing and dance around our room like idiots. All the time.

6. The Bangles - Different Light
Again, a childhood thing. I got this album on tape for Christmas one year, and every time I listen to it, I am transported back into my room at the house on Steppenshell road, playing with my legos and wanting to be Susanna Hoffs. "If She Knew What She Wants" is still one of my favorites (and yes, I know it's a cover.)

7. New Kids On The Block - Hangin Tough
I know I know I KNOW it's awful. But hear me out.. One day I came home from school and noticed my sister had hung a picture of Joey McIntyre on our bedroom wall. I was furious and immediately requested she take it down. She refused. It wasn't much longer after that that I too got sucked into the NKOTB rage (come on I was 13) and we both had pictures plastered all over the wall and were claiming to our horrified father that the New Kids were waaaay better than the Beatles and he was crazy for thinking otherwise.

8. R.E.M. - Out of Time
It was around the time that I was heavy into the New Kids that Out of Time hit the airwaves. Specifically, Losing My Religion. I loved that song and I think of it as the catalyst that ended my love affair with the New Kids. I specifically remember filling out some questionnaire that asked "what is your favorite band" and my friends being shocked when I penciled in REM instead of New Kids On The Block. Thanks a bunch, Michael Stipe!!

9. The Lemonheads - It's A Shame About Ray
In high school, most of my friends were into the pop music of the day (see above) and were listening to the top 40 radio station and loving it. They always thought me odd for liking other stuff, like what was on the rock station or older acoustic music (again, see above). The Lemonheads was the first album I bought for myself that really defined, for me at least, that "different" taste.

10. Indigo Girls - Rites of Passage
I first heard this album blasting out of the speakers at PhotoWorks, on a warm summer day when I was 17. So many of the songs struck my teenage-heartbreak-ridden self..and are so evocative of those days. It was the summer before I left for school, left the house for the first time..crazy. Not to mention, it's an awesome album.

11. Velvet Underground - Greatest Hits
I was introduced to Lou Reed & co during the year I spent at Colby-Sawyer in New London, NH. I liked the band's gritty sound. I also was intrigued that they were a put-together band (by Andy Warhol of course) and by the span of their influence (It has been said that almost everyone who purchased a Velvet Underground album went out and started a band of their own.) Still dig it to this day.

12. Sarah McLachlan - Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
Another gem discovered while I was away at school. This of course is when she was a relative unknown--more known than when Touch or Vox came out but definitely not as well-known as she is now. This is another beautiful, heartbreaking album that reminds me of the days at Colby-Sawyer.

13. Pulp Fiction Soundtrack
OK, I know, another weird choice--but I'm thinking about being away at school. This movie premiered while I was on winter break. I came back to school and everyone was mesmerized by it--the music from the soundtrack album poured out of every dorm room on campus. I have a vivid memory of sweeping my dorm's wooden floor, bathed in late-afternoon sun, idly smoking a cigarette and listening to "Son of a Preacher Man."

14. Dead Can Dance - Into The Labyrinth
Another album I was introduced to at school. I heard it once and immediately fell in love. This album, to me, symbolizes the first time I really understood that there was "other" music out there -- stuff that was non-traditional and interesting. I haven't listened to this one in a while and am now going to have to root through my collection to find it.

15. The Cure - Boys Don't Cry
After I left Colby-Sawyer, I kind of retreated into hermit mode, the winter in between New London and West Barnstable is a foggy mist of memories, of strange people, having a lot of time to myself, to think, and to wander. I struck up a fascination with the Cure during this time, and bought a bunch of their albums. I love Boys Don't Cry and all of the Cure's early work because it is so different from the Cure of the early 90s (Friday I'm in Love anyone?). Good times.

16. Moby - Everything Is Wrong
I remember reading a little snippet about Moby in Rolling Stone, something that said he called himself Moby because he was a distant relative of Hermann Melville (of Moby Dick fame). Thinking myself the little literati at that time, I bought the album based on that alone. I was so surprised to hear what came out of my speakers--and even more surprised that I loved so much something that was electronic and different. It was the beginning of my love of house/dance music. I actually got to meet Moby once, back in 97 or 98 when he was playing on Landsdowne Street. "I Like to Score" had just come out. I have an autographed copy of that album, and an autographed poster, lurking somewhere deep in my collection.

17. New Order - Low Life
I was riding in a van down Route 28 in Chatham the first time I heard this album. "The Perfect Kiss" was blaring out of the old beat up speakers and I distinctly remember turning to my companion and practically shouting What Is This? It's the first time I remember being purely in love with the sound that was hitting my eardrums, and was instantly hungry for more. Which leads us to...

18. The Pet Shop Boys - Very
New Order and the Pet Shop Boys, while both having very distinct and unique sounds of their own, definitely have a great deal in common. I bought this during that phase...and it has a pretty cool package design to boot.

19. The Sundays - Reading, Writing and Arithmetic
I was a tad slow on the uptake when it comes to this album..I didn't purchase it until probably 1998 (it came out in 1990). This one has so many memories for me -- mostly of love, both good and bad. It's hauntingly beautiful and so much fun at the same time.

Holy crap I did not mean to ramble this long..and I cannot believe I'm at the end....

The Pixies - whatever the name of that album is
Those that are close to me (you know who you are Molly and Lucas) are going to either be extremely puzzled or very amused by my inclusion of the Pixies on this list. You see, for many years I had a strong hatred for them. That's right, I said it. Mostly, it stems from an annoying game an old boyfriend used to play. He used to test my knowledge of music (which is rather poor) by putting in a tape, playing a song, and having me guess what it was. Usually, I got it. Every time I didn't, it was the Pixies. Years later, Lucas did the SAME THING to me, and guess what...the same thing happened. I still hated them with a burning passion (although I had a secret like for "Here Comes My Man"). One day, Lucas and I were out on a drive on a cold and foggy winter day. We were driving through the dunes of the Lower Cape, listening to the Pixies, and somehow it all clicked. The sad, melancholy surfer-type music playing was the perfect accompaniment to the Cape in winter. I would be remiss if I did not include the Pixies, for somehow, they have managed to shape my life, even though for a long time I didn't want to admit it.

There are so many more albums, songs--so much more music that has helped me grow and defined me as a person, but these, I think (at least for today) are the big ones. Writing this out today made me realize that someday I will need to flesh this out..I could write my autobiograpy based on "my soundtrack".

If you've read this far, I don't know whether to thank you or look at you, puzzled, and wonder just how nuts you actually are.

trabajo, εργασία, travailler, काम,, WORK.

2009-02-12T05:29:00.004-05:00

Last night I drifted off to dreamland contemplating my working history. The last few days have been blissfully busy--we just came off a three month stretch of complete and total boredom--so these crazy busy times are most welcome (at least from my perspective).

I still remember the thrill of getting my very first job...well, one that wasn't babysitting or selling sandwiches down by the docks. It was May of 1993, I was 16 years old, studying photography in high school. I applied for and got a job at the local one-hour photo. Keep in mind these were the days before every CVS on the block had their own minilab, film still reigned supreme and digital cameras had yet to be invented. I spent many happy summers developing pictures of weddings, graduations, babies, European vacations, cruises, trips to Antarctica..you name it, I saw it. (And before you ask--yes I have seen people's naked pictures.)Actually, if you really want to know, we had a wall of shame in the bathroom where we posted copies we'd made of particularly hilarious photos that came through our lab. I worked there for a very long time, eventually became manager, and pretty much ran the operation for a few years. In the year 2000, I was 23, ready to spread my wings, and burned out on the photo business. And our business was down--people were taking their film other places, digital cameras were creeping in to existence. It was the end of an era.

So what did I do?

Got a job at another photo lab.

BUT this experience was not as pleasant, it was actually downright unpleasant, so I left after less than 6 months and got a job pushing papers.

Which turned out to be one of the best jobs I've ever had. The office was crazy busy almost all the time, my co-workers (even the one revolving-door secretary slot) were unbelievably fun, my boss still to this day is one of my closest friends. It was hilarity and happiness amidst the craziness of insurance claims. Weird and angry whackos calling at least once a week, awesome car accident stories, just the best. I would go back in a heartbeat, but it was time for me to move on. I cried on my last day of work. I only left because I was moving, and the commute to Hyannis from Belmont every day would just not work out.

In the middle of all of this work craziness, I also managed to start a career in radio. I didn't start working full-time, all the time until 1998...and somewhere before that I managed to go away to college for a year, come home, go to community college, meander over to the radio station (because I wanted to meet people), get really involved with the radio club, eventually become the president/program director...and the rest is history. Well, kind of. The advisor to the club was a long-standing local radio DJ. I had also met a bunch of local-radio folk while hopping out and about in Hyannis. Long story short, several years later I found myself with a part-time gig at the local top 40 station - midnight to 6 (voice-tracked) 5 nights a week, daily entertainment & nightlife reports, and a live shift on Sundays. It was a fun job, but a very very chaotic time in my life, so that too was short lived. I gave up radio for a few years, until I started a conversation with a guy in my aerobics class, who happened to work for one of the biggest stations on the Cape. I was hired as a part-time weekender, ended up with a full time gig anchoring the morning news, producing a weekly public-interest show, and reporting on local Cape news. So yeah, radio's in there too. For a couple of years, I did the insurance-office gig and the radio simultaneously. I put in many many many 12 hour days. Over 2 years worth as a matter of fact.

All of which leads me to today. You can probably tell by now that I am kind of a workaholic--having 2 jobs was no problem for me at all, and that chaotic summer (2000), I had three.

Luc and I moved to Boston in September of 2007, after spending many frustrated years on the Cape, wondering if we'd ever get ahead and realizing that the only way to do so was to go where the action is. It took me MONTHS to find a job--so hard because I loved both of my jobs at home and didn't really want to leave them. Eventually I found an office-management job at a downtown staffing firm. It was a wonderful and great job with amazing coworkers (who I still call my friends), but after doing radio where I felt as though I had a career, it was hard to go back to ONLY pushing papers.

So, while scanning craigslist one day, Lucas found an audio-producer job. I applied, and the rest is history.

I am aware that I've been rambling, but what I want to get across is this -- I THRIVE on being busy. Give me projects, give me deadlines, push my limits and I will Get The Job Done. For the past few months, it has been so dead at work (tumbleweeds, people) that I began to lose my sense of self. I cannot tell you how much better I feel to be busy and productive and oh shit I have to start getting ready to go in.

I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with my attachment to work...but all I know is it makes me happy, and I like things that make me happy.

Wallowing? or Reveling?

2009-02-06T08:57:00.004-05:00

I could go out and have a smoke, I could sit staring at the fat orange moon,
I could drown in a sea of sorrow, I could rise up and swoon
So many things I need to say, and others not yet done
How long until the calm tide comes, how long until I'm gone...

I've been spending quite a bit of time lately thinking about the past, the other morning most memorably because I was reading some of my older writing, writing about experiences, places, people, love. There are some scattered memories that I like to return to every now and then, like peaceful sanctuaries, bottled-up times. I am glad that during especially emotional periods I put pen to paper. At the time, it felt as though I was exorcising demons or working through my angst (which is indeed what I was doing); however, in retrospect it is lovely to go back and look at those words, stir up the feelings I once felt.

Some people, places, memories I keep stored like tiny jewels in velvet bags, to bring out and wonder over, contemplate. I often wonder if these people have memories of me that are the same--that is the mystery to which I will never have the answer. But it doesn't matter--they are MY memories, and I will keep them as such. At times it seems the memories exceed the wonder and magic of what happened, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I like to take photos because I want to capture beauty that I can't find in myself, or rather, freeze the moment of beauty that I can see that maybe a person or a place can't see at all...sometimes the radiant light bursts forth and is ignored, other times it's sought when darkness is all around.

Maybe I've just been drinking too much red wine.

Whatever. I'm at a crossroads. This is one thing I can be certain about. What exactly I'm going to do is entirely up to me..and I can't shake the feeling that the decision (whatever it might be) that I'm about to make is going to play a major part in shaping my life for the next few years. I feel like I am on the verge of so many amazing things--that I'm finally coming into my own, coming out of the dark. And it has nothing to do with love or lust or any of those things that arise only from the presence of another person...no. This is something that has to do with me, and me only. It's time for me to start making decisions that will make MY life better, things I want to do, things I need...it sounds selfish, yes..but we only get one time around, right? Would you want to spend it wondering where you f'ed up? Not me...and that's why I have to get moving.

Your shadow seems to fill the spaces...

2009-02-02T06:41:00.003-05:00

I rose early on Sunday (big surprise). I had a shoot scheduled at the studio in Cambridge at 9. Made it there on time (thank you unusually timely public transportation)! The shoot went well, nice and quick, and hopefully my client likes his shots. Hopped on the red line around 9:15, sunk deep deep underground at Porter Square, riding the Escalator of Death down to the dark underbelly of Cambridge. I was whisked red-line style across the city, and emerged streetside at South Station, where I promptly proceeded to forget how to get to Chinatown. But then I remembered, and strolled down the street, through those gates, to watch the Chinese New Year celebration. I really had no idea what to expect. I've seen Chinese New Year parades on television, but it's been a long while. I skulked around the streets, black wool coat keeping me warm and gloved hands holding my camera tightly as I clicked away. My reporter's instinct drew me close to the press (an odd feeling, really--I always felt jealous of the photographers when I was out covering a news story for radio--I often wished I could have replaced my microphone with a camera). I saw lions everywhere, firecrackers, drums and cymbals, excitement. Chinatown fascinates me, something so different and unique plopped right in the middle of my beloved city. It's part of what makes Boston so amazing--turn a corner and you are in another neighborhood, another culture. Chinatown to me is so foreign--foreign practices, foreign goods and groceries, foreign movies and culture. It's beautiful and strange and I am so glad that I made the trip to see the tradition. My love for the city grows every day, and having the ability to hop on a train and run around to my heart's content, to see amazing things with such ease...I just have to remember it's out there and to go and do it.

in secret dreams
in secret places
bleeding streams of transfixed faces
your shadow seems to fill the spaces
dark corners of the heart

I read this while surfing craigslist this morning, I have no idea what it is or who wrote it, but somehow it seems to fit.

A great deal of gobbledeegook intended on getting me back in the swing of things.

2009-01-21T06:28:00.003-05:00

The sun is coming up now, tentatively across the cold horizon. The sky slowly grows lighter, but now I sit and type in what my nephew calls "the blue time". Moments ago I poured steaming hot water from the kettle after watching its heat bend the air over the stove, marveling at how something so primitive-water plus fire- is still viable in this techno-heavy age. My cat wanders around the dark apartment, meowing loudly. This is what I call "kitten yowling time".

The liquid in my mug is berry-flavored. It is not the lemon-flavored variety I normally buy. It is tasty but not what I am accustomed to. It's Thera Flu. I am not feeling well. My nose decided to start running on Monday, after two days of snow and shoveling. Yesterday, at work, I felt markedly better, but on my arrival home the sneezing and nose-running started up again and this morning I arose at the normal 5 am hour with a very tender and sore throat. Fortunately I had the smarts to slather my red, raw nose with Vaseline prior to hitting the hay last night, so at least I'm not in sore-nose hell.

For several years, getting up and going to work in the dark was normal for me. The alarm would go off at 3. I would get up, do the coffee-and-cereal routine, shower, and head to work, hoping to make it by 5. Usually, I was late. Thankfully, the normally-busy Route 28 through Yarmouth and Hyannis was very, very quiet at that hour of the morning. As a result of those early-morning days, it is now the norm for me to arise at 5. Which, for a short while, felt like sleeping in. I still feel odd beginning my work day at 9 -- a time at which, in previous years, I would have already put in half a days' work. I remember feeling very discombobulated when the sun was already half-up when I got out of bed, at 5. It took me some time to get used to sunlight beaming in during my early-morning breakfast-and-internet time. Now, as I sit here in the quasi-darkness at 6:40 AM, I long for the summer sun, the open windows, the fresh smell of morning. Outside now, it is cold and frozen, and my bicycle sits cooling its heels in the basement until the sun warms the pavement and I can once again ride.

Savannah for Christmas - Part One

2009-01-05T16:38:00.002-05:00

I found myself in sunny and warm Savannah on the last day of 2008. We drove down on Tuesday the 23rd, starting at 4:30 AM in cold and snow-covered Boston, wearing two sweaters, a winter jacket, a hat and gloves. As the states melted away the temperature rose, I watched the numbers creep slowly up on my car's thermometer as we moved southward. Connecticut first, then New York, over the Tappan Zee bridge at around eight in the morning, down through New Jersey on the Garden State Parkway then to the Jersey pike, crossing the Delaware Memorial Bridge and paying several tolls in what seemed a short span of miles. DC was interesting, took a circuitous route to avoid the Beltway and ended up driving by the Pentagon. From what I could see, DC was an ugly city on the outskirts, dirty and unwelcoming. We made it to Virginia in the early afternoon, the halfway point--only a few more states to go, but the longest states of all. Once we crossed from North to South Carolina the miles seemed to melt away, I was propelled by adrenaline and a slight bit of deliriousness that can come only from driving so many miles at once. Two hundred miles through South Carolina in the dark, the garish lights of South of the Border our welcome, accompanied by signs for Savannah taunting us every four miles, Savannah: 196 miles, Savannah, 192 miles, until finally we were on the off-ramp and driving toward the Talmadge, then suddenly pulling into my sister's driveway and getting out, at around 9:30 at night. I have been to Savannah many times since my parents moved, but always by air. It was strange indeed to be getting out of my own car in my sister's driveway.

We stayed until early on Saturday the 3rd, enjoying sunshine that lasts past 5 pm, and warm temperatures--at times in the 80s. Lots of food and too much drink, fun evenings with my whole family, with my brother, and with my sister, traipsing around to tourist traps and art museums, lurking in dark and cheap bars, laughing at Southern accents and smiling at bar tabs that total less than $10 for four large beers, stuffing ourselves with delicious meals home-cooked by my mom.

We were supposed to leave on Friday--but the forecast in Boston helped us decide to stay one more day; so instead of driving all day towards a blizzard we rode bicycles in T-shirts in the sunshine. The drive home was not as adrenaline-filled as the drive down, and in fact took two days instead of one. I was exhausted by the time we reached the tail end of Maryland, so we pulled off I-95 and spent the night in Havre de Grace before meandering our way home on Sunday.

It is cold here in Boston, and icy, and while I do miss the sweet warm Southern air, it is nice to be home in my chilly Northern home.

One From The Vaults - Summer 2006

2008-12-04T06:23:00.007-05:00

All it would take to leave is four wheels and a tank of gas. Sometimes that realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

The road stretches out across the country like pavement arms, fingers dipped in sunshine, snow, sand, simultaneously. What's to stop me from climbing in my car and hitting the road, closing my eyes until i feel comfortable? Why don't i start walking and only stop when it's time to sleep?

A myriad of places, opportunities, lives, lies at the ends of those roads, or in the middle, for that matter. Living on a peninsula for so long gives one the impression that there is always an end of the road, you drive so far and then have to turn around, there's no alternative. It's not always like that. Sometimes you can stop in the middle.

Everyone's life, a center spot, a spiral. a frame of reference. The grocery store. The post office. Your deli guy. Those people you see every day, the woman that runs down route 28 as the sun comes up, while you drive to work. The old lady with the smily face who pushes her red shopping cart down Main Street. She's always been there. How many others take notice? Do they notice you? Do they have pet names or slang for you like you do for them?

Oregon. Georgia. Wisconsin. People all have lives here. Maybe you could too.

Seattle. New York. Maine. Boston.

Cape Cod.

Or you could stay.

When your entire family uproots, and you are left alone, thousands of miles away from your closest relative, you feel somewhat buoyant and anchored, both at once. A strength in the community you grew up in, a connection, a tie...but nothing to tie you there except what you made your own. And you could do that anywhere.

If I notice the early-morning jogger's absence, does she notice mine?

What keeps us in the cycle we are in...what causes us to repeat every day, over and over, in a robotic cycle, until we are forced to change? Until events beyond our control change our daily pattern...and then we realize just how long HAVE we been doing it this way? Where did the last five years go?

2006 is the 30th year I've spent on this planet, the 30th Cape Cod summer I will see. The 30th time the forsythia has bloomed for my eyes and the lilacs will come soon, this I know because it happened that way last year, and the year before. We can count on the trees sprouting leaves, the grass growing long, the flowers blooming, the sun warming the ocean and the sandy beach...and then we can count on the leaves turning brown and yellow when it's all over and then the snow comes again, and the trees are bare, until spring comes yet again.

Is it only natural for us to stay in a cycle? awake, work, sleep, awake, work sleep, never changing never altering...just getting older?

Sometimes I forget all it'd take to leave it behind is a tank of gas and four wheels...

----
I grew up on Cape Cod, Massachusetts. My parents moved to Massachusetts from Wisconsin in the mid 70s, after the death of my grandfather. In 2004, my parents decided to move from Massachusetts to Georgia. My brother (along with his wife and son), and my sister moved as well. I stayed on Cape Cod until 2007 -- and then I moved, but only to Boston. I still miss them being nearby. This picture is of all of us, on Pleasant Bay Beach, ca. 1982.

Things that make me happy (in no particular order whatsoever)

2008-12-03T18:59:00.004-05:00

A linen closet fully stocked with soap, toilet paper, clean fluffy towels and fresly washed sheets.

A rainy night with a bottle of wine and my record player.

Early summer mornings.

Late, lingering fall afternoons as summer slowly scuttles away and winter is lying in wait.

Chilly, damp afternoons spent drinking beers at a dark, warm pub.

The first time I smell hamburgers grilling outdoors in the summer.

Hot, humid summer evenings drenched with the scent of lust.

Falling asleep in the arms of the one I love.

Tearing up the sheets with someone I shouldn't be with.

Rainy Saturday mornings.

Long road trips.

My flatiron.

Low tide on a Northside beach on a hot summer day.

The smell and sound of coffee brewing in the dark early morning hours.

Long, wandering conversations that last for hours and bring you closer to the person or people with whom you're conversing.

Good books that make you forget where and who you are.

The smile on the face of someone who loves you.

The smell of men's cologne on sweaty skin.

The content sound of my cat as she sleeps.

Pizza made by Greeks.

2008-11-30T08:58:00.002-05:00

Post the Fourth.

I know, I know. I said I'd write every day, but lately I haven't felt like writing. Lately I haven't felt like doing much of anything. Times are tight but I still keep going out, still have a couple beers at the bar when really I should be at home doing my laundry. But what fun would THAT be? Thanksgiving was lovely, turkey and stuffing and cranberry sauce, squash and greens and potatoes. Nice red wine and pumpkin cheesecake. Four days off from work. FOUR DAYS. I have to go back tomorrow, and quite frankly, I'm looking forward to it. Four days off when you are completely and utterly broke are No Fun At All.

2008-11-20T18:12:00.003-05:00

I'm floating with the birds
I'm talking to the weeds
Look what you've done to me

I'm still dressed up from the night before
Silken hose and an old Parisian coat
And I feel like a queen at the bus stop on the street
Look what you've done to me

It's a beautiful morning in the ghetto
Finer than the day before
The ants are crawling over my pants as if to say
They know where the honey is

There's really old roses blooming in the ghetto
Birds of paradise are taller than me
The weeds grow high, the birds flicker by
Children are walking to school

In the midst of all of this profusion
The bus pulls up to take me back home
The bus driver looks like an African prince
The babies have tears in their eyes

And I feel like a queen
On this sunny city bus
Look what you've done to me

-- Jolie Holland - Crush In The Ghetto

That amazing, wonderful rush you get when you're in love, or lust, or infatuation, or whatever you want to call it, whatever it is, it's irreplaceable. The sun shines brighter, flowers are more beautiful, even the ugliest people seem to have glistening skin and hearts of gold. The dragon I chase and the dragon we all chase. I have several posts about love, the ubiquitous love, the elusive love, the unrequited love, the unhappy love, oh man I'm rambling again...but you get the picture and no doubt you know what I'm talking about. So many of us repress these feelings, why not celebrate them? Why not bring them to the forefront and make them so?

This song, this little simple song, was described by the artist as a 'walk of shame' song, at least she did when I saw her perform a few weeks back at the MFA. It's what I've felt many times while doing what some may consider a walk of shame...but others may consider a walk of triumph.

Do I Really Have Time for This???

2008-11-19T19:48:00.004-05:00

Post the second.

Yes, the ultimate question. Do I really have time for this? I have a Facebook, Myspace, my own website, a full time job, a gym membership, a side job, a freelancing job, an apartment to clean...hoo boy the list goes on. However, I am not as busy as I've been in previous days, in previous incarnations of my life. Back "home" (and I use the term loosely, 'home' is a place that is only about an hour an a half away from where I am now) I worked two full-time jobs: radio in the morning, secretary in the afternoon, worked out after that, maintained my house, and various and sundry other tasks. So I ask myself, do I really have time for this, because I want to find a way to bring writing back into my life, I read blogs all of the time and want to contribute to the blog-o-sphere. I blog on my website, and on Livejournal, but I want to do this here, in another theater. But I ramble (and as you get to know me, you'll get to know that I ramble A LOT).

I'm preparing some "past life" posts, some prose and stories I've written over the years that I will intersperse with daily updates as a way to keep it fresh, to keep the posts coming and to let the Interwebs know who I am and what I am all about. Perhaps I'll post one of those old-school Hundred Things...if I find the time. ;P

Another thing: I am a photographer (or at least I like to think of myself as such), so I'm going to make a concerted effort to post pictures with each entry. So there.

Stretching my Blogging Muscles

2008-11-18T13:52:00.000-05:00

Post the First.

My legs are sore because on Saturday I had the brilliant idea to go for a walk. Now, just so you know, I like to walk. I have been known to choose walking over driving and public transportation many a time. My grocery store is a half-mile from my house, and over the summer I walked there every time I needed to. That being said, this past Saturday was a dreary one, wet, warm rain coming down, slick streets, fog. The kind of day I like best, second to nice warm sunny ones. I wanted to go to Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge to shoot some photos. T-pass in hand, I strolled out of the house and down the street. When I got to the end of the road, I decided I didn't want to stand and wait for the bus just yet, so I kept walking. And walking. And walking. And walking. Mt. Auburn isn't too terribly far from my house, in the grand scheme of things, if I had to guess I'd say about two and a half miles. Wait--let me check. Ok. According to maps.google.com, it's 2.3 miles. So Ha! Interwebs, I was right on. So in the drizzle and the rain, in a pair of Payless sneakers (Airwalks, though--I'm not that un-classy), I trudged through the trees and gravemarkers and leaves and statues, winding and twisting down the path, chatting on the phone, taking pictures: and before I knew it, I'd been wandering Mount Auburn for over an hour. I started to walk back, and figured if I saw the bus, I'd just hop on. But no, no bus ever showed up, in the whole time it took me to walk down the street. I got home, waterlogged and soaked--but I got my exercise for the day!

For those of you who are just joining us (and that includes me, actually probably is JUST me) I want to stress that I am stretching my blogging muscles, so these first couple of posts are probably going to be nothing more than random rambl-y gobbledegook. I promise (hope) they will improve over time...I have a few archive items that will be posted in the coming weeks, some themes of love and loss and boredom and all that other crap that people should be writing in their diaries and shoving under the mattress instead of putting on the Interwebs for all to see. Such is life.

2008-11-18T13:47:00.000-05:00

There are Mom blogs and there are Wife blogs and there are Single Girl blogs...and then there's my blog. A single but not-so-single woman living on the outskirts of Boston, writing and editing and spewing bullshit out of my mouth whenever I get a chance. I'm going to write about life, love, and whatever else I feel like unleashing on the Interwebs. So there.