excess

It’s been a pretty crazy month.
No really.
And there’s one thing that’s been on my mind a bit, but I’ve been wary of mentioning it, lest it be misconstrued.
I’m a social drinker. This is no shock to anyone, I’m sure. Usually I’m really good at keeping it light and fun, but I’ve found myself starting to slip into some bad habits. I’m not drunk every weekend by any means, but the occasional ‘over-did-it’ has crept into my life a little more often than I’d like, lately.
And in the past when I feel myself straddling a line I’m not comfortable crossing, I just step completely back. A couple times in college I went so far as a “No Drinking, No Swearing, No Sex” phase, just to get myself re-centered on, well, me.
A nice, clean, relaxed, and healthy version of me. (If you knew me then, this was a serious change of pace.)
I guess what I’m saying is, I’m giving up drinking for a while. I don’t know how long… at least until I find that place where I don’t feel like I’m being excessive anymore.
It fits in well with my life right now, too. I want to be healthier, exercise more… enjoy my life and my body. And since Brandon doesn’t drink anyway, I’ll be getting lots of support to keep on track with my goals.
I’d like to say it’s no big deal, but I think every conscious decision to better yourself is something note worthy. So I’m putting it out there.
On to the next big thing!

Chic Flick

It’s no lie… those movies are for those who are in love with love. Where happy endings abound after seemingly impossible odds.
I think sometimes with great remorse over all of the bad decisions I’ve made in my life. And yet if I subtract a single one, I would not be here today with sunshine in my heart.
There are a lot of big decisions coming up for Brandon and I. When to start a family, and where. What are we going to do for ourselves and for each other. I would not be surprised to see things get harder before they get easier, but only because we have been so lucky these past five years.
Sunday morning when we got up with the dog, I was tragically hung over by utterly miscalculating the strength of the drinks I had been consuming the night before. Brandon had the good sense to make me leave before doing too much harm to myself, and drove me home even as I irrationally wept over how I must be holding him back. As I was fetching water and ibuprofen, I found myself apologizing profusely for my silliness.
There were times over the past few years that I’d had that same intoxicated conversation with him about all my shortcomings and how, in my eyes, they hang like a ball and chain around his happiness. I only say this because the only times I’ve ever seen him unhappy is when I am at my lowest. At least until now.
On Sunday, as I apologized for my behavior, Brandon laughed at me, knowingly.
His struggles to figure out what the next step should be are not because I have failed him in some way. I have to keep reminding myself of this, since I sometimes forget to remember to forgive myself and enjoy my happiness.
Perhaps this life would make itself a good movie for other hopeless romantics to enjoy too.

In transit

So as I was preparing dinner last night for Dad & Kathy, I mentioned that I had gotten the pasta from Jessie in Brooklyn. They nodded in acknowledgment and appreciation for apparently fresh made pasta, but didn’t really comment on the New York part.
Later as we were sitting around eating, Dad asked me if I had been out of town recently. “Um yeah, in New York.”
Ohhhhh. Lights came on. Pasta, Brooklyn, Jessie. It made sense now.
And before that was Chicago, with Christie and some other Fort Wayne & Teach for America people.
Way too much fun on both trips, if I say so myself.
Chicago was an adventure in remembering my age. Most of the people doing TFA are around 22 and fresh out of college. I, of course, am not. I’m domesticated and fully integrated into the 9 to 5 routine. However, this doesn’t mean I don’t like to go out, have some drinks and be social. Coming to bed around 5a.m. though, two nights in a row: holy crap. I made it home just fine, but on Monday I slipped into a coma right after work.

This picture was taken walking home from a night of drinks and dancing on Saturday. My camera says I took it at 4:49a.m. Seriously folks, I’m not 22 anymore. Thankfully, Brandon and I are planning a day trip back to Chicago in a few weeks to go back and look at this giant eyeball, since it’s new.
So Monday was coma day, Tuesday & Wednesday were spent doing laundry and packing, and Thursday morning at 6a.m. we got on the road to get to NYC.
The drive was pretty perfect and we were settled in Jessie’s apartment in Brooklyn by 7:30 that evening. We went out for a slice of pizza and then went into the city to check out Times Square. Pretty cool, even if it is mega tourist-y.
Jessie took this great picture while my mouth was hanging agape.

Next morning we headed out again loaded with a map and our umbrellas. First stop was the Staten Island Ferry, to get a skyline of Manhattan and check out the Statue of Liberty.

It drizzled on for most of the afternoon as we walked around. We saw the 9-11 site, Wall Street, Trinity Church, Tiffany & Co. and a dozen other things. We walked through the neighborhood were his friend Travis used to live, where he had his first NYC experience. As the afternoon wore on and we dried off, we went into a tiny part of Central Park. I can appreciate the need for having the park there, but it kind of reminded me of a zoo, for people. It was a very manufactured kind of nature, which provided some nice shade and recreation, but made me a little sad.

After the park we met up with Jessie and Marc for a little piece of heaven. Steaks and seafood at Smith & Wollensky. The food was divine: we had calamari appetizer, Brandon had filet and I had crab cakes, and Brandon had cheesecake while I ate pecan pie for dessert. Every morsel was fantastic. And because it was restaurant week, and we had their specials, we walked out for less than $100 including tip and wine!

Saturday was forecasted to be 100 degrees, and feel like 110 with humidity. We decided to stay mostly indoors and check out the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was spectacular, to say the least. We lingered around the Modern Art wing most of the day. I got to see almost all my favorites:

Chagall

Matisse

Van Gogh

And of course…

Monet

We also saw works by Andy Warhol, Francis Bacon, Renoir and many many others. It was such a great day! (And Brandon didn’t hate it either!)
After the MET, we went back on the ferry to relax and give our feet a break, and then back to Jessie’s for dinner. They ordered Peruvian style chicken with mojito sauce, and tajadas, which are fried plantains. Seriously, New York, your food rocks!!
We chilled for a bit and decided we needed to visit Coney Island before our early bedtime. It really was just a mega carnival. We watched someone try to “Shoot the Freak” (paintballs at a guy with some protective gear & a shield), rode the Wonder Wheel, on the swinging cars of course, and had a great time.

We headed back pretty early, after stopping for some pistachio ice cream for Jessie. (Again with the amazing food.) They gifted us with some fresh pasta and cookies that they picked up while we were out exploring, and said our goodnights & goodbyes. And 6:30 Sunday morning we were headed back home.
So three days later I think I’m starting to feel like myself again. I did gain 5lbs from the past two decadent weekends, but they were utterly worth it. I feel so lucky to be able to have such great friends and be able to travel with Brandon to these cool places. Hopefully we’ll be back soon!

boozer

It’s no secret: I’ve consumed my fair share of alcoholic beverages. I did so most foolishly and violently when I was underage. When I turned 21, my drinking habits changed rather dramatically. Not necessarily because I was finally able to go to bars; my ‘life situation’ had been altered somewhat abruptly and I just didn’t find it as much fun to get smashed. On a couple of occasions in the half decade since, I’ve managed to consume far more than I should, and there are a few other instances where I fell over the ‘pleasantly buzzed’ line down into ‘seriously tipsy.’ I’ve blacked out, fallen over, peed my pants (stupid zipper) and woken up wondering where my pants are. These were not good sides of me, and thankfully they are fading farther and farther into my past.
Yet, I’m still slurping away on a nice tasty beer. I have no intentions of becoming drunk or even buzzed. One beer. Did I “learn my lesson”? No I suppose not. I knew before I committed those indecencies that they were particularly embarrassing if not dangerous. And I can’t really say that I learned what my tolerance is… it fluctuates daily I think. And sometimes I will cry irrationally without any alcoholic influence whatsoever.
Some part of our human nature thrives on flirting with disaster. On occasion, with mistakes made comes an ounce of wisdom, and we decide to stop tight-rope walking that line. I guess you could say I’ve gained a little perspective. I figured out that I’d more often prefer being admired as a good person than a fun one.
Maybe that is the lesson I learned. Rachael 101, hm?