62. July 8th, 2010 Picture.

So the night before heading off to Nantucket for 4 days, I went over to Ratty's to hang out and go to his friends birthday party.  We were walking over towards the Garden where the bday party was, and I took a picture of this 'secret society' I always pass.  Now, it's not so much a secret, but it is one of those Italian 'Members Only' clubs and Ratty is straight up obsessed.  He wants to be a member, even though he has red hair, and isn't Italian.  He is always saying that when he walks by these clubs, which are peppered all through the North End, he can hear chatter, but when he gets to the door they all suddenly stop talking and look at him.  I'm real curious now as to what they are always talking about...

62. July 7th, 2010 Picture.

So, Ratty and I had plans to go to Nantucket the weekend of July 10th.  We both took Friday and Monday off, and planned to get up bright and early on Friday (earlier than I get up for work) and head off to our long weekend on my favoritest island.  I love Nantucket.  I was obsessed with it before I'd ever been there.  I'm not exactly sure why, but you can probably take a few guesses.  I love the ocean.  I love the water, the sun, the beach, the lifestyle associated with it.  To quote the amazing Mr. Kenny Chesney, no shoes, no shirt, no problem.  I love the smell of low tide, sand under my feet and the sound of crashing waves.  

I wasn't always like this.  When I was in high school I couldn't sit quietly on a beach to save my life.  I needed music, a book, someone to entertain me, and even then, I'd be antsy.  I didn't know how to sit still.  Same goes for when I was little.  I needed someone to play with me.  I'd scream my brother Eddie's name until he came in the water to play with me, then I'd jump on his back, demand he throw me in the air, and torture him mercilessly.  It's amazing he still likes me.  Although now my energy is perfect for his little girls, who are just like me and love to run around, so I will let them pig pile on me as long as they want.  

Anyway, I guess I've come to appreciate the quiet.  Work is stressful, life is stressful, sometimes friends are stressful, so I really like to have some peace and quiet, and the beach is the most perfect place for it.  But, before I actually GET to Nantucket and enjoy this stresslessness, I need to pack, which in and of itself is again, stressful.  Here you see my empty suitcase, waiting to be filled, but I cannot bring myself to start packing.  Where do I begin, what will I bring, what's the weather going to be like?  Last year I went to the Vineyard for the 4th of July and I brought 12 outfits!  TWELVE!  I needed jeans and shorts and skirts and tank tops and a sweatshirt.  What if it's windy?  Or cold?  Or rainy?  Or we decide to go out to a nice dinner?  What if on the night of that dinner it's cold and rainy?  What if it's 90?  These are all valid questions I ask myself before packing.  I like to be prepared.  

So, here I sit, 2 nights before leaving, and nothing is ready.  No packing, no laundry, no blogging.  God, this post is starting to stress me out.  I know I work best under pressure.  I can't pack too early because I might need something.  Most of my 'getting ready' stuff I can't pack until that morning because I NEED it that morning.  To you know, get ready.  So, yea.  Packing.  Naht done.

62. July 6th, 2010 Picture.

On July 6th, I completely forgot to take a picture.  I was sitting on my bed, probably not blogging, blissfully unaware that I had not taken a picture when panic struck.  NO PICTURE!  OH NO!  What will I do?  What time is it?  Is it still the 6th?  I glance down at the computer screen and PHEW, it is still the 6th, I've got time!  What time is it, exactly?  11:11pm.  Make a wish!  

62. July 5th, 2010 Picture.

The day after the 4th I was pretty beat, for good reason.  I had spent the day before having so much fun that I needed a day to recover.  I dragged Ratty to the beach with me, where we sipped iced coffee, listened to music and thumbed through magazines.  We made it about an hour or so before the oppressive heat took over and we retreated my air conditioned apartment.  


Once we had brought our core temperatures back down to normal, I was hungry.  Such a shock, I am ALWAYS hungry.  We decided that we needed to go someplace down near the water and sit outside; Extend our long weekend and enjoy the nice weather.  We opted for Legal Seafoods right down by the aquarium and sat at the bar while waiting for a patio table.  I literally drank 4 glasses of water in 30 seconds, to the point where the bartender asked if I had just come in from a run.  It was the first water I'd drank in 2 days and I was beyond dehydrated.  We only had to wait about 15 minutes for a table, and before we knew it we had a harborside seat PERFECT for people watching.  I ordered shrimp skewers and rice, while Ratty got a lobster roll.  It was a pretty nice night, and we decided to walk around the harbor before grabbing gelato in the North End.  


I like to walk around, looking at the crazy boats and yachts docked in the harbor and play a little game I like to call 'How Much Do You Think It Cost?'  I play it with boats, real estate, jewelry, you name it, I want to know how expensive it is.  There are lots of boats in the harbor, mostly docked for vacations, and I want to know how people afford them.  Like, the boat slip and gas bill alone must be SO expensive.  Most of the boats I saw must cost well over $100,000 and at what point do you have enough disposable income that you think to yourself, let's get a boat!  Hmm?  I struggle with money.  Trying to understand how much people make verses how much they spend.  How can someone afford a 2 million vacation home on Nantucket?  What do they do for work?  And more importantly, do they need an assistant?  Or a wife?  Or a mistress?  Ha, kidding!  Kind of.  But seriously, there is so much money out there, where does it all come from?!  I just don't get it.

Anyway, as if I wasn't baffled enough by the teeny boats, there was this massive boat docked across the way from us.  It was called the Kanaloa and after some intense Google searches on our blackberries, we found out that it was a charter yacht that is 158 feet long and costs $225,000 per week to rent.  $225,000 A WEEK!!!  I have so many questions.  Who can afford that?!  If I couldn't understand buying a $100,000 boat, there is absolutely no way I can fathom blowing a quarter of a million bucks just to RENT one.  Am I alone here?  Please tell me I am not the only one that cannot wrap my head around this.  I couldn't get a picture of the huge yacht, pretty much because it was getting dark out and we were too far away for the flash to work.  You can Google it if you are interested in seeing what it looks like.  No but seriously, where does that kind of money come from?  Pyramid schemes?  Oil?  Stocks?  Like,  how do I get in on this?

62. July 4th, 2010 Picture.

To celebrate the 4th, I went down to my Uncle Paul's summer house in Hull and spent the day drinking and eating on his wrap around porch overlooking the ocean.  I could honestly do it every day for the rest of my life.  Ratty and I headed down in the morning, and stopped off to buy some beers and snacks for the fam.  We got to Hull just around 1pm, and settled in for a great afternoon.  It was me, Ratty, my mom, Uncle Paul, Susan, Rich, Uncle Bill, Aunt Andrea, Kathie, Maeve, Olivia, Aidan and little Rich.  We had a such a great afternoon!  We went swimming, who knew Uncle Bill was a FISH?!  He literally swam for hours, floating on his back and doing laps around me.  No joke.  

We sat around talking, drinking, grilling, eating and laughing.  Absolutely perfect.  My uncle Paul made the most amazing steak tips for dinner, and the ice cream truck came around for dessert.  The aunts and uncles moseyed on out around dusk, after watching the most incredible sunset, but we kept the party going until midnight.  There were LOTS of fireworks, and since we were right on the bay, we could see them happening in Boston, Cohasset, Weymouth and Hull.  The next door neighbor had a ton of industrial fireworks, most definitely illegal, and he started setting them off on the beach in front of the house.  They were pretty spectacular, right in our faces, but then they starting getting too close for comfort and we were concerned that just one could set the house on fire.  I mean, it didn't happen, but it COULD have.  I am so my mother's daughter.

I actually took a lot of nice pictures, some of my family sitting around chatting, watching the fireworks and down in the water, but those are long gone.  I'm not too broken up about it because the BESTEST photo ever still exists.  This one photo must equal about 1,000 other photos in my head, because I don't care that I lost a few months worth, but if I lost this I would be DEVASTATED.  Like, cry myself to sleep on a sopping wet pillow devastated.  Here's why:

Here's a picture of Ratty hitting golf balls into the bay.  Look closely to Ratty's hands.  Do you see the club?  Nope, now look in the air.  This is the BEST PHOTO EVER!  We were all taking turns hitting balls, and I snapped this right as Ratty was swinging, thinking I'd get a good action shot.  What I got was SO MUCH BETTER!  The second I saw the club go flying into the water I literally collapsed into hysterics on the ground.  Ratty quickly turned, looking for someone to tell him it would all be okay, but we were too busy laughing to console him.  It was awesome.  I didn't even know I got this picture until a little while later.  Once I found it, we literally passed the camera around every hour on the hour and cracked up again and again.  My cousin Maeve zoomed in on Ratty's face and the club, which just made it all seem more ridiculous.  I cannot believe I got this picture.  If I tried 1 million times to get it, I bet I couldn't.  Just the way the club is positioned, against the blue sky, it's amazing.  If the club had been about 3 feet lower you wouldn't have been able to see it because of the houses in the background.  It is literally the most perfect shot.  You can see the panic sweeping across Ratty's face as he realized that he lost my uncle's golf club.  This picture is currently set as my work computer background.  I chuckle every time I see it.

The rest of the day was pretty much dedicated to making fun of Ratty.  Heck, emails are still going around with comic strip characters sending golf clubs into the water.  Rich forwarded it to my family, his wife's family and it made the rounds to his co-workers.  I added it to Facebook where it quickly racked up comments and likes.  A-mazing.  We even went down to the beach with flashlights, hoping to find it as the tide was going out.  It was so frustrating because we could not find it, even though we knew it should be right there.  Thankfully my uncle Paul found it the next morning at low low tide during his walk on the beach, so all is well!  Ratty is now allowed back in Hull.  Although he will never ever live this down.

87. Visit 3 Farmers Markets

So on June 28th I made my way to Barry's Farm Stand smack in the middle of the most industrial area of Dorchester.  It looks so completely out of place, as if someone just threw some metal slabs up and decided to start a farmer's market.  It semi-baffled me every time I drove by, but there were always cars outside, and people mingling in the side of the road, so I knew it had a following.  I've been keeping my eye on it for the past few years, so it must be good if it's been able to stay open, right?  That's what I think of, okay the Board of Health hasn't closed it, people are still lining up, it's good enough for me!  


I drove over there, with the mission of buying blackberries and plums for the vodka 'project'.  I parked my car and suddenly got nervous.  I'd never been to a farm stand before, at least in my 'adult life'.  Now that I thought about it, I don't even really know what plums LOOK like.  Sure, I've seen them on the Nantucket Nectars labels before, but I've never bought one.  How do I know when they're ripe?  Are they supposed to be hard or soft?  Gah who knew buying fruit was so complicated.  I mustered up the courage to go inside and was greeted by the nicest man.  Barry, the owner of the fruit stand, chatted with me, asked if I was looking for anything in particular and obviously, pretending I like I knew everything, I casually mentioned I needed plums and blackberries and got to examining.  Plums are a lot smaller than I thought they were, I always thought they were like peaches, but nope, teenier.  I picked up each one and inspected it, like I knew what I was looking for, I didn't, and put them in my bag.  I decided that 4 plums and 1 package of blackberries per jug would do.  As I was walking towards the cash register I saw chunks of ginger and decided it needed to be in the vodka.  I really like ginger, I like drinking it, eating it, hi look at Ratty!  He's even a ginger.


As I was paying, Barry and I were chit chatting.  I told him this was my first time shopping at his stand and he thanked me for stopping in.  I said I'd be back and that I would tout it to all my friends, which I'm totes doing right now.  He rang up all my items and it came to $4 and change.  That's it!  I couldn't get over how much stuff I got for such little money.  I was really impressed with the quality of the fruits too.  I got home and washed everything down, and each berry was perfect.  Not one plum was bruised and when I started to chop everything, they were perfectly ripe.  The was no mushiness, brown spots or anything else icky.  In case you hadn't guessed by now, I've never actually eaten a plum or held one, I just like the flavor or the essence really.  The same goes for cherries.  I typically keep my fruit flavor consumption isolated to Nantucket Nectars and jelly beans and Mike and Ike's, which I'm eating right now.  So, I tried my first plum and liked it.  She likes it, Amy likes it!  

This is literally the worst photo ever.  It was right after I borrowed Ratty's camera and apparently I was still learning how to use it.  Like, I'm 100% focused on the wind shield.  And the dirt.  And the glob of sap that has been sitting in the middle of my window for about 4 months.  Barry's Farmers Market looks like it's a decrepit monstrosity.  I apologize.  I'm ashamed.  This is straight up awful.  

Public Service Annoucement

So, I started up my computer yesterday to transfer some photos onto my flash drive so I could get some blogging done while work was slow.  I turn it on, and BOOM I am faced with a blank white screen.  Blank, nada, nothing.  I couldn't get it to do one single thing.  I internally semi-freaked out and ran to work so I could google the issue.  Welp, the first thing that pops up is WHITE SCREEN O' DEATH.  Yaaa, basically my hard drive is completely fried.  No real idea as to how that happens, it was fine the night before, but sadly, its dead.  D-E-D dead.

After work I brought it to Microcenter, in hopes that they'd be able to recover some of my files and install a new hard drive.  I was told that as long as the hard drive is spinning, my data could be recovered, and they would transfer it all onto my new hard drive.  Okay, so there is hope!  I walked out with my fingers crossed, firmly believing that the computer gods at Microcenter would be able to fix it.

Fast forward to today and I get a call from them.  Nothing on my hard drive was salvageable.  All my stuff, gone.  Thankfully, I have an external hard drive and back up most of my stuff.  I did this a month or so ago, so anything taken within that time is gone.  Buh bye.  See ya later.  Gone are my pictures from Nantucket, and about 1 weeks worth of 'Pictures of the Day'.  I am going to attempt to recover deleted pictures from my camera's memory card, but am not totally sure how well that will work.

I'm sad, but it could have been a lot worse.  At least I backed up some stuff, imagine if I lost EVERYTHING?  No, I can't.  It's depressing.  I am picking up my newish, rebuilt computer tonight and will spend the evening trying to salvage what I can.  If you happen to know a data recovery specialist that could get my files off my hard drive, let me know.  Microcenter said it's about $1,000 to have that done, but if someone needs a side project, please think of me!

62. July 3rd, 2010 Picture.

I spent July 3rd hanging around the North End at Ratty's apartment.  It was a brutally hot day, and I just felt like being lazy.  Ratty ran out to grab some coffee's and food, and came back with a surprise.  Well, I may have requested one.  Every time he leaves his apartment, I ask him to bring me something.  He put his hands behind his back and asked me to pick one.  I obviously got it right on the first try and I was presented with 2 awesome looking cupcakes.  Ratty had stopped off at Lulu's, a bakery next to the coffee shop, and came back with a chocolate and red velvet cupcake.  I love red velvet!  I sped through my coffee and lunch and moved right onto the cupcake.  Ratty warned me that the little plastic stars on the chocolate weren't edible.  When I gave him an unappreciative look, he told me that the sales woman had said that to him, because someone had actually started choking in the store the day before.  For serious?!

They were so good, but so rich.  I made it through half of my red velvet before needed to stop, and if you know me at all, you know that I have a massive sweet tooth, so for me to stop means they were SUPER rich.  After snacking on cupcakes and hanging out that afternoon, we decided to make some drinks and sit on Ratty's roof.  I made some martini's, vodka, chambord, lime juice and topped with ginger beer, basically a moscow mule with a shot of chambord,in a martini glass and not on ice.  So so yummy!  We sat on the roof in camping chairs, feet up, sipping some awesome drinks.

After watching the sunset, waiting patiently for some pre-4th fireworks, which never showed, and listening to a live concert that was taking place at Government Center, we went downstairs and watched my second Christopher Plummer movie, The Insider.  Post to follow.  Someday.  Soon.  Maybe.  Hopefully.

62. July 2nd, 2010 Picture.

On Friday after work, I drove into Cambridge to hang out in Harvard Square with Ratty.  It was the Friday before the 4th, so work let us out at 3pm,  so rough.  Ratty had to take care of some work at Mount Auburn Hospital, so the plan was to meet up after we were both free from the awful, miserable chains they call employment.  I stopped off at my mom's house to grab the parking permit so I could park easily in the Square and not worry about meters or tickets.  I feel as though the parking karma fairy may be coming back to bite me after I fought and won so many other tickets.  I had a good run.  While I was at my mom's I got a migraine.  I suffer from insufferable migraines, so I ended up needing to lay down for a bit to recoup.


Once I finally made my way into the Square, I was greeted to cheers and yells from this mass of soccer fans standing outside Cardullo's.  They are famous for having a big screen TV in their window, and people literally bring folding chairs nightly to sit on the side walk and watch Red Sox games.  It was no surprise that a crowd had amassed outside to watch one of the semi-final games of the World Cup.  It was the game when Ghana was upset by Uruguay during a shoot out, so I was rounding the corner and hearing the screams just as overtime was ending.  I quickly snapped the picture and made it to the new Tory Row which is right next door, where Ratty was waiting for me.  I made it inside just in time to see Ghana lose, see the players cry and have Ratty broken up about the loss.  My head was pounding and I felt really bad for a team whose game I did not watch, nor did I actually know anything about them.  Such a great start to the night.

We walked over to Legal Sea Foods at the Charles Hotel and sat outside on their summer patio and had a few cocktails.  I finally started to feel better after some water, fresh air, Excedrin migraine and some cherry bourbon with lemonade.  What  is this new bourbon fascination all about?  After a few drinks in the nice warm sunshine, and watching the cutest little red headed twins run around the patio playing with a dog, Ratty and I made our way to Grafton Street for some dinner.  We sat at the bar while waiting for a table, but then made our way to the front patio for dinner and drinks.  I love Harvard Square and I love people watching.  There are a ton of crazy characters that exist in this world and sometimes I feel like every single one is in Cambridge.  There was no one in particular that stood out, besides the woman dressed up like a marionette that stood on a box for about 5 hours, not moving the entire time.  She was freaky.  


After dinner we went to the Russell House Tavern, which is a pretty new restaurant/bar that opened in the old Z Square space, which use to the the Wursthaus many many moons ago before Harvard Sqaure decided to force everyone out and turn all the store fronts into banks. Honestly, there are not less than one million banks in the Square, even ones I've never heard of before.  Trust me, Citizens does not need 2,500 square feet for 4 ATMs. Unnecessary.  Anyway, RHT is actually pretty swanky and gives off a french restaurant vibe, red leather studded booths and subway tiled walls.  I sat down and quickly ordered a 22 oz Grey Lady from the Cisco Brewery on Nantucket.  Ratty got one too and unbeknownst me, ordered shots.  What is it with him and shots recently?  It was his thing of choice on Nantucket (which will be written about shortly, hopefully) and my liver is not really loving this trend.  He wanted something made with Jagaer but the bar didn't stock it, so they made the shot taste like it using various different alcohols and syrups.  It was actually pretty cool.  Our 22 oz beers lasted us a bit, and by the time they were done I was beat.  Ratty went to pay the bill and we realized the beers we ordered were $18 each.  EIGHTEEN BUCKS EACH!  That is like, highway robbery.  Fast forward to the next day and I see the exact same bottle of beer on sale in a liquor store for $7.49, and on sale in Nantucket for $7!  Nutso.  Guess I need to look at the price before I order another drink there.   

{Such a great beer.  They also make Lady of the Woods which is Grey Lady soaked in a Chardonnay cask for 10 months.  So good.}

{Shots.  Yum?}

{I love Nantucket!  They can do no wrong in my eyes!}

Sidebar: July 2nd is my dad's birthday.  He would have been 82.  Happy Birthday Dad!  Love you.

62. July 1st, 2010 Picture.

So I was back to work last Thursday, back after using all my vacation days, sad.   I enjoyed my time off, but wasn't nearly as productive as I was planning or hoping.  I'm going to run every day!  I am going to paint a piece of furniture, a chair!  I am going to go antiquing!  I am going to go to farmers markets all the time!  I am going to organize my room!  I am going to roast my own garlic and store them in mason jars in my fridge!  Or not.  I did go to the beach almost every day, and just plain ol' relaxed.  It was nice.  We can't all be Martha Stewart now, can we?

Of course, now that I am back to work, I decided that I need to buckle down and do something.  I wanted to run more on my vacation, I've been saying that for a while now, but had yet to follow through.  There was always tomorrow, or Monday, or next week when I have more time, but I always talked myself out of it.  SO, that being said, I decided to hit the gym on Thursday, after my long sabbatical of Pilates.  I belong to a pilates studio and the gym, but end up at pilates far more than Gold's.  I went for the first time in a few months, nervous that when I scanned my ID a red announcement would show up on the computer flashing FAIRWEATHER GYM GO-ER!   Well, it didn't but I still felt ashamed.

I got on the treadmill and ran.  It felt good to run, good to sweat and pound my feet to loud, thumping music.   I need to make an effort to make it there a few times a week.  My pilates studio is busy, and once or twice I haven't been able to get in a class because it's full.  If that happens again, I need to take my pretty little self to the gym and still work out.  I need it.  I complain that my jeans from when I was 18 don't fit anymore (WHAT?  They are cute and I really like them and I look SO skinny in themmmm!).  I should stop complaining and make them fit, right?  Or like, try and make them fit.  Or maybe make the jeans from when I was 21 fit first.  Baby steps.  K, I guess this a start to number 79 too.  Lose 10 pounds.  I guess I should buy a scale so I can see what my starting weight is.  Ugh.

62. June 30th, 2010 Picture.

So, a few weeks ago, I was ALMOST caught up on blogging.  I spent an entire afternoon in my backyard, typing away in the sweet sunshine.  I sat on my deck, music playing, sipping on lemonade, feet up, blogging away.  I had so much confidence that I was going to get caught up, I WILL GET CAUGHT UP, I said to myself.  Like the Little Engine That Could.  I think I can, I think I can.  I am the best blogger ever!  Look at my determination!  I am so great!  


Let's fast forward 2 weeks and...drumroll...I'm still behind.  This may the most I've been behind in the short little history of my blog.  Just when I think I'm almost there, it slips through my fingers like teeny tiny grains of sand.  Wahhh, poor me.  What about my fans?!  The people NEED me!  Okay enough crying and unnecessary dramatics, let's pick ourselves up by the bootstraps, or Gap cardigan, Starbucks latte and/or Mumford and Sons CD and get crackin'!

I took this cute little picture while sitting on said deck, sipping the aforementioned lemonade, while 'catching up' on writing.  Clearly my determination wasn't as strong as I previously thought, because I sat on the porch for about 20 minutes watching this little fuzzy squirrel eat peanut butter from a jar.  I was fascinated to the point where I actually tweeted about it.  That's right, I shared it, in real time, with complete strangers all over the interweb.  Am I insane?  Like, why did I think this was so great?  Maybe it was the heat, or the fact that I never ever have any food in my apartment and subsequently put together the most malnourishing meals and it is finally affecting my rational thinking and common sense.  I do have a B12 deficiency.  I wonder if that's it.  Better pop a supplement just to be sure.

62. June 29th, 2010 Picture.

Again, I was off last Tuesday and spent the day toasting my skin to a beautiful golden brown at the beach.  I could do that everyday.  An iced coffee, a good book and just me with my toes in the sand.  Life doesn't get much better than that.

Ratty texted me early in the afternoon, saying that him and his co-workers were going out for drinks around 4:30pm.  He asked if I wanted to join them, and since my schedule was wide open, I decided I would.  Ratty's co-worker is getting married this weekend and they were throwing him and his fiancee a little shower at the Presidents House.  Their party was running late, aka there was beer at the Presidents House and didn't have to pay for it, so I went over there as soon as I found a parking spot.  Ratty met me outside the door and told me that everyone was waiting for me.  He made it sound as if I was the guest of honor, and I was slightly unsure what to do.  I have met most of his work friends before, and went to Kristen's wedding last October, so ya, I'd say I know them pretty well.  He said everyone was waiting for me and he wasn't joking.  Apparently Charlie, the Prez, had said that no one could leave until I got there.  I think his exact words were 'Don't go until Ratty's girl gets here.'  They know I don't work there, right?  Like, it's alright if they don't wait for me, I wasn't really invited.

All joking aside, it was a nice time.  I was handed a glass of champagne the second I walked in, so it was already off to a great start.  Peg, Ratty's boss, was a little tipsy and told me I looked adorable and it was no wonder Ratty had the hots for me.  That's exactly what she said, hots.  I don't think I've ever seen a grown man's face turn a darker shade of purple.  I asked if he was alright, half expecting in to start gasping for air and clutching his throat, the obvious universal sign for choking.  After my champagne I was a little less on edge, and sat back to enjoy the party.  Everyone Ratty works with is really nice and super funny, the exact opposite of my co-workers.  Except for one of the Dean's who calls me Bel Biv.  He gets a cool pass.

Once I was shown around the Huntington Ave brownstone where the President takes his Boston residence, we made our way to the Squealing Pig for some food and drinks.  Peg had passed her credit card off on someone, so the bill was completely taken care of.  I love when that happens!  Not that it happens a lot, or ever really.  I don't know if I've ever seen a corporate credit card, but I have dreams of what it would look like.  Anyway, we ordered a round of drinks, but the service was less than stellar.  We waited and waited and I asked 3 times for a round of waters.  If I was paying, I would have complained.  But I wasn't, so I kept my mouth shut.

I got a Chimay, which was fantastic, and it came in cool glass.  I ordered the most amazing sandwich, which was prosciutto, gorgonzola and fig jam panini.  Heaven, pure heaven.  I'm actually dreaming about it right now, and if I wasn't hungry while watching Top Chef, I am definitely hungry now.

I didn't have to work the next day, so Ratty and I went out for a night cap at Sel De La Terre on Boylston where I ordered a Blackberry Sidecar.  It was so good.  Is it socially acceptable for a 26 year old to like Bourbon?  I think I'd look pretty good in a smokers jacket, with a pipe, holding a snifter.  Kind of like Richard from Gilmore Girls, minus the bow-tie.  And obviously female.  The service was far superior to the Squealing Pig, like leaps and bounds.  I felt like a complete idiot when I accidently knocked over my drink, but the bartender was so nice he made me another one on the house.  Two for the price of one!  K, not really, but it was uber nice of him, and he definitely didn't have to.  It was my own fault.  Damn me for my perpetual hunger, I was reaching for the menu.

Oh, and because the service wasn't so great at the Squealing Pig and the Chimay glass was so cool, I totes stole it.  That'll show 'em.

62. June 28th, 2010 Picture.

I was off on Monday, part of my 'forced' vacation, so I decided that I needed to be a little productive.  Not that sitting on the beach working on my tan ISN'T productive, I just needed to get out and do something.  Maybe put on some real clothes, take a shower, feel like a normal part of society again.  While doing our worthless shopping on our way home from Maine the day before, Ratty and I had bought 2 air tight glass jars, so I could 'make' him some vodka.  Last year for Christmas, I decided to make a gift for my family, and gave my sisters and Ratty's mom vodka steeped with fruit.  I filled up glass jars with orange slices, ginger and cranberries, then topped them off with vodka and let them sit in my basement for 3 weeks.  My sister Kate has said that she finished it and wants to bring the empty jar for a refill, I'm like a vodka filling station.  Christine just cracked hers open the other day, which I am sure made it so much more tastier since it was sitting longer, and called to tell me how awesome it was.  We joked that everyone else had laped her and were coming back for seconds and she JUST opened hers.  While the vodka was a pretty impressive gift, my mom is still talking about my wrapping.  I made big, curly ribbons from green and red grosgrain ribbon and bought big white metal tags with green and red snow flakes on them.  I made sure to put the recipe on the back of the tag, incase anyone wanted to attempt this project at home.  I was pretty impressed myself, to tell you the truth!  I set the bar high last year, how do I even come close for 2010?!  Eek.

I wanted to use fresh plums and blackberries this time around, and knew that if I went to Trader Joe's or Star Market it would cost me a pretty penny.  I decided that this would be a great time to check off one of my 101 lists and visit a farmers market to pick up supplies.  I'll try not to divulge much in this post and leave that to my actual task update, but it was so great!  I visited one I've passed on an almost weekly basis, but never thought to stop in.  I had been keeping an eye on it for almost 2 years, so I knew that if it was still open then it must be pretty good, and hadn't killed anyone, so that was good enough for me.  I was able to buy 2 packages of blackberries, 8 plums and 1 chunk of ginger and it only cost me $4!  How is that even mathematically possible?  What are the plums, like a nickel?  I don't really care if Barry made a mistake or just charges next to nothing, I walked out with all my supplies for less than $5!  I think one package of blackberries would have cost me more than that at a regular grocery store.  I think I will be paying Barry a visit much more often.  Now that we are on a first name basis of course.

I came home, washed the fruit and got to chopping.  The blackberries were so sweet and the plums were SO fresh, it was just incredible.  I obviously needed to test the fruit and was so pleased.  Nothing was sour, nothing was mushy.  Even when I sliced each plum, they were picture perfect.  The jars are now sitting in my basement, waiting for their taste test, but here is a look-see.

62. June 27th, 2010 Picture.

The Sunday afternoon after the wedding, we went to my brother Ronny's house for my nephew Cameron's birthday party.  Cam's actual birthday is the 4th of July, but since his parents typically visit Wellfleet for the holiday, and most others have summery plans as well, they threw his party a week early.  The party started at 4pm, which was perfect because there was a post wedding brunch that morning for all the guests that stayed at the hotel the night before, where I drank a lot of coffee and ate a lot of bacon, then we stopped off at a shopping mall to waste some money.


It was a really nice afternoon, and we all sat in the back yard, grilling and sipping sangria.  Chloe and Cameron wanted to play something, so since there was a wiffle ball bat in the yard, I suggested Dizzy Bat.  For those who don't know, the whole point of Dizzy Bat is to pretty much make people so dizzy that they fall down, and then everyone laughs at them as they attempt to get up.  You have to hold the bat, put your forehead on the handle and put the other end on the ground.  You have to spin around 10 times, while keeping the bat on the ground and your forehead on the bat.  Chloe and Cam made it around 10 times, no problem and walked away, completely unphased.  I say it's because they are so short and that the don't really even need to bend over to keep their heads on the bat.  Then it was my turn, and I made it around about 7 or 8 times before I had to stop.  I felt sick.  The whole time Ratty was taunting me, like, 'AMY go faster!  Come on, this is so EASY.  You aren't even trying.'  Oh you best bet I was trying.  Finally it was Ratty's turn and I was dying to see how he was going to hold up.  After all that smack talk, I secretly wanted to see him fall flat on his face.  I think Chlo did too.  He started spinning but was walking really slowly.  He started laughing and said it was a lot harder that it looked.  You bet it is!  Chlo was keeping count and kept yelling that his forehead wasn't on the bat.  "KEEP YOUR FOREHEAD ON THE BAT RATTY!  YOU AREN'T GOING FAST ENOUGH!  COME ON, I WANT TO SEE YOU VOMIT!'  Literally, this is what my little 6 year old niece was yelling at Ratty as he was gingerly playing Dizzy Bat.  It was hilarious.  Finally, he finished his 10 spins and he went right over and collapsed on the ground.  His eyes were closed and he was clutching the ground.  As soon as his eyes opened, Chloe stood right above him and yelled 'IN YOUR FACE!'.  It was pretty much the best thing ever.  So much smack talking from Ratty, and then he got owned by a 6 year old.  


Then the time came for cake and presents.  I think my present was the best, it was a Tony Hawk skateboard t-shirt, this awesome mini-skateboard, and some Mad Libs.  Who doesn't love Mad Libs?!  As soon as presents were over, Cameron went to the driveway to try out the skateboard.  It was actually really hard to use and my mom was freaking out that people were going to fall and hurt themselves.  I think Ratty liked it the best, because once he got his hands on it, no one else could use it.  He came pretty close to killing himself a few times, and when he almost went into the street, there was a collective gasp from the crowd.  He was going all of 2 miles an hour, I doubt that he would have hurt himself that badly.  Once we had each skirted death by riding a mini-skateboard, we played some basketball and did some good old fashion twirling in the yard.

{Cam's homemade birthday cake.  SO GOOD!}

{Opening the BEST.PRESENT.EVER!}

{Testing it out.  For now...}

{Then Ronny got ahold of it.}

{Then Ratty almost died.}

{What Ratty dubbed 'The Evel Kinevel' ramp that would surely kill him.}

{And Chloe lost a tooth!  That stupid mini-skateboard!  Just kidding, she lost it a few days before.  Look how cute she is!}

{Posing.}

I ALSO received my VERY FIRST SILLY BAND!  I've heard and experienced the buzz first hand, but never had one of my very own.  When Chloe heard that I didn't have one, she went running inside her house and came out with one for me.  It was green.  It was a high heel.  Does a more perfect silly band exist?!  I think not.  It's like it was made for me.  Thank you Chloe!

Everyone started to clear out around 7:30pm or so, but not us!  Ratty and I stayed until 11pm, hanging out in the back yard with a fire pit and delicious cocktails.  Sybil is like, a master cocktailier or something, and she is always making homemade basil simple syrups with freshly squeezed lime juice from her vintage juicer, topped with direct-from-France sparkling wine, or something equally as fancy.  Literally, that's what it's like every time I go to her house.  Always a signature cocktail on hand.  The best may have been Chloe's 4th birthday party, on a Sunday at 11am, where sparkling grapefruit martinis in little race car martini glasses were passed out as you walked in.  I strive to be like that when I'm an adult.

62. June 26th, 2010 Picture

Saturday was my cousin Keri's wedding in Maine.  Keri is one of my cousins on my dad's side, actually she is technically my first cousin once removed, since I am first cousins with her mom Diane.  The ceremony was in NH, but the reception was right over the border in Maine, and then the hotel was back in NH.  I am not really joking when I say that we had to call the hotel at 10pm and have the front desk guy walk us through directions, step by step, and stay on the phone with us to make sure we made it.  During the long pauses of driving, I made sure to find out if there was a bar in the hotel.  There wasn't, but thankfully there was a Margarita's literally in the parking lot.  I am pretty sure him and I are best friends for life now.  Ratty may have been shifting in his seat like 'Amy, why do you need to know his middle name?  He doesn't care that your shoes are purple.'  Whatever, it was just awkward driving down the street with him asking me 'have you passed the Rite Aid yet?'  and me going 'nope, still at the farm' for 20 minutes.


My mom drove us up to NH, or Maine, or wherever we were, because she has a firm rule that if we are ever traveling anyplace together, she must drive.  I stupidly agreed to this lifetime deal when I was 16 and didn't know any better.  The whole trip went something like this:


Me: Okay mom you are going to take exit 39.
Mom: Is it gonna be on my right or my left?
Me: Mom, most exits are on the right...
Mom: Not all of them, some are on the left.
Me: Well I've never been here before, so I assume the right.
Mom: Okay, should I get over?  Is my exit coming up?  I'm going to get over.
Me: Mom, don't get over yet!  We are only at exit 28.
Mom: Well how far is 39?
Me: How am I supposed to know?!
Mom: I'm getting over.


Ratty said that he felt like he was watching a tennis match from the back seat, just my mom going back and forth, saying a lot but not really saying anything.


The wedding was really beautiful and it was so nice to see my family.  They are a lot smaller than the Downey's and unfortunately are spread out a little bit across various states, so I don't get to see them nearly as much as I would like.  My Aunt Estelle is always giving me a hard time because I don't visit her enough.  That is why I added number 7 to my list, and really number 8 too.  My dad died when I was 11, so I don't know a lot about his family or his childhood.  I really want to learn as much as possible, so a trip to Maine, or trips, to visit my Aunt are definitely needed.  


Anyway, like I was saying, the wedding was so much fun.  My mom, Ratty and I had a great time.  The reception was fantastic and I dragged both Ratty and my mom out to the dance floor more than a few times.  I did my best to take a lot of pictures, but I was pretty much driven to fill the entire disposable camera that was at our table, so most of the good shots ended up on that, I assume.  I made sure to grab a few of me and my family, but some came out blurry because it wasn't until half way through the reception that my 'new' camera was on the slow motion setting.  What does that even mean?  I don't know, but it's annoying.  Maybe someday I'll figure out how to work this hand me down camera, just in time for me to buy a new one.  Sighhh.

{Keri and Fernando are married!}

{Me and Steph.  After some serious dancing on my part.}

{Ratty asked my mom to dance.}

{The bartenders really liked us.}

{And he has a face!!  This may be a one time thing I'm not too sure.}

{I really really like that madras.}

{Me and my cousin Kim.}

{Kim's husband Ben and their little girl Olivia.  She kinda stole the show.}

{Me and my cousin Laureen.}

{My Uncle Teddy and Aunt Estelle.}

{Me with the Mr. and Mrs. Rinaldi!}

The wedding was so much fun.  None of us wanted the party to end, by none of us I mean me, Ratty and my mom, so went to Margarita's in the hotel parking lot for some queso and chips and sangria.  I may have been a little tipsy when I shared that I had a dream the night before where my mom's landlords' dead husband was talking to me in my mom's kitchen.  Let's get Oprah on the phone, I apparently, am clairvoyant.   And that fact only comes out when nudged along by champagne, vodka, wine and sangria.