Good-bye Gloucester

The Husband and I are officially out of the Gloucester apartment. No more run ins with The Establishment. No more worrying that the apartment will fall off in a strong wind. While we still have on-street parking, it isn't nearly as terrible to find a spot.

The new place is easily twice as big and much nicer than the last one.  But I can't help but feel...off.

The island has been my base of operations for the majority of my life. Cape Ann has been kind to me. The closest sense of home I feel. Its where most of the family I see is, where I went to school, where my doctor is. It is where my thinking place is.

I am sad to see it in my life's rearview.

Where will I go to think now?
Where will I get coffee that isn't a chain?
Where will I go thrift shopping for costumes?
Where will I get canolis?
But more importantly, Where can I get linguica on my pizza?

The Search Continues

Today is a fairly dreary day in New England. I actually quite enjoy days like this. They are good for reflection. And there are some excellent jams on at work (currently: Guster <3). I keep coming back to the concept of what I am meant to do and today seemed like a good day to have a think about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually enjoy my job most days. Not always all the people I work with but who likes all of their co-workers all the time? I am good at what I do--I am a wiz with the software and being detail oriented comes naturally. And girl can multitask with the best. Lately, I just feel...empty when I leave. Emotionally drained. Stressed to the point my muscles hurt. I am the type of employee that comes in and does more than my share of the work, never shying away from taking on more. I naturally try to climb any ladder there is. But these days it all seems so… Meaningless. I am a cog in the corporate machine. I work on the fringe of large companies, adding to the empire of The Man. I just never thought I’d be here. I never thought “Hey girl, what about a business career? Or one that works hand in hand with big business?” Sure, there was a hot second in college where I thought PR was the route for me. That lasted a semester. I realized my peers were driven by the almighty dollar and that I wouldn’t survive in an industry like that.

I always saw myself as a teacher or a community leader or even working in women’s rights. My fancier day dreams lead me to a life of the stage or running my own literary magazine or (and WHOA-dream big here) having my own show on Food Network. Or to be the most academically gay person possible (see below for an explanation). Now, I feel far less sure of myself and wish I had the excitement for what could be as I used to. There are days I feel trapped here because of money. Wouldn’t be extremely irresponsible if I left and ended up someplace I made less? If we want a house, a second car, a kid, or heck-even a vacation shouldn’t I do the right thing for us and stay?

How do we, as adults, create a fulfilling life? How do we find a place in the world that balances needs and expression? Is it possible? Scratch that. Is it possible without working 2 or more jobs?

In general, I feel like I do not excel. Like I am something akin to a jack of all trades-knowing about a lot of things but never mastering anything. Maybe I don’t give myself enough credit or maybe I am dead on. Maybe I recognize that I can do a few things but don’t think it is good enough. The hardest part of reflecting on this is trying to figure out what it is that I am good at and trying to take that a step further.

My dad wanted us to start a catering business or restaurant specializing in Hawaiian food. While I’d love to honor that dream I don’t know if I live in a market where that would be profitable. I also worry I am too far removed for it to be authentic enough.

...But I can marry flavors like a boss. I have shown that in cupcakes and candy. A bakery or sweet shop has been on my radar since I graduated high school. I got accepted to Johnson and Wales for baking. It was a huge victory for me. However, having any kind of business is super risky and takes far more money than I have available. I can talk about food for daaaaaaays, which has always made me want to have a food show. But then I remember that I am fat and worry no one would watch it because of that.

In college, I worked on our literary magazine for a semester as an editor. It was exhilarating to pick the pieces and try to fit them together in an abstract story. I’ve thought about trying to start one online but have no idea where to even begin.

And then there is my love gender and queer studies. My goal for awhile was to be the most academically gay person alive. Degree in Gender and Queer Studies and working for a non-profit or queer publishing house. Maybe teaching it. I can read gender and queer symbolism easily and find it fascinating.

...I don’t even know where I am going with this post anymore. I am impressed if you made it this far. Here’s hoping today’s contemplation is a step closer to figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.

3, 2, 1: A Musical PSA

Life has been a blur lately. Rocky Horror is keeping me insanely busy this October. We're getting ready to leave Gloucester and move to Lynn in November. And, work has been... Work. One thing has remained constant: Tune-age. It's time to pull out my musical soap box again and dole out some tips on tunes to get you through the day.

In this installment, I present 3 songs you should listen to, 2 local artists to look out for, and 1 song you should probably try to forget about.

3:

The biggest band on the list (and the best come back news I have heard in a while) is the triumphant return of one of my favorite groups, Counting Crows. From Mr. Jones to pretty much anything they put out, I am there and always pleased. Not to mention, Adam Duritz started my obsession with dread on white guys (and Laaaaaaaaawd, do I still want to have dreads some day as well).



I didn't choose the awkward life, it chose me.
 

Well, the guys are back with a new album called Somewhere Under Wonderland. The first single released didn't get much play here, but the second single "Scarecrow" is blowing up and it is pure magic. This song brings carefully crafted music together with lyrics that are stirring and whimsical and perfect. (I am starting to fan girl here). The video is the first in a series and embodies the very American rock feel of the track. And it doesn't star the band (I missed the dreads, #nolies), which is very abnormal but extremely refreshing.

 

Dig it and want to listen to more? Try on: Round Here, Mr. Jones, A Long December, The Ghost in You, or Hanginaround. Want to feel moved after listening to a song? Queue up Colorblind. Simple lyrics but the delivery is overwhelming.

 

 

 

A lesser known but rad band to look out for is Walk the Moon. Sometimes described as "indie pop-art" this band is a 4 man set up full of multitasking musicians that create a fun sound to groove to. Definitely inde in genre, it is clear that there are some New Wave influences here which is probably why I dig them as much as I do. The first single to drop off their second studio album Talking is Hard is "Shut Up and Dance." The lyrics are sweet and catchy, making the already very dancey music last in your head long after the song is over--But not in that terrible way that makes you want a lobotomy.

 



 

 

Last on the list of things you should be listening to is Sheppard. This Australian indie pop band started out as a brother and sister duo but expanded (and added another sister to the mix as well) a few years ago. They dropped their first studio album Bombs Away in July and their first single "Geronimo" was released in February in Australia where is reached number one. It is now out in the US and I am hoping it makes a big splash here. Heavy on repetition and rhyme, the lyrics are quick to commit to memory making it a great song for the mid-day work slump. The almost haunting quality of the faded out female voice singing the phrase "bombs away" adds a little depth to the pure indie pop formula of the song.

 



 

2.

 

I am a big supporter of local artists, regardless of the media they work with. Massachusetts, and the North East in general, have put out many fantastic artists including some phenominal musicians. I am going to focus on two today, One gaining a lot of radio play with multiple songs that have been used on TV and one I happened to stumble upon at the Topsfield Fair.

 

Will Dailey is a Boston based artist that has 6 or 7 albums under his belt and has steadily had his music featured on TV shows since 2006. Will has a rich voice that pairs well with his retro sound. The finished product lays at the nexus of vintage rock, roots, and pop. His current radio hit, "Sunken Ship," is off of his latest album National Throat and the song is a finalist in the 2013 International Songwriting Competion.

 



 

 

The second band in this category is Gretchen and The Pickpockets. The Husband and I venture to teh Topsfield Fair every year with some of our friends, and while this year's group attendance was low we had a fabulous time with the Beautiful Amazon, the Leatherman, and the Wee Amazon. We stopped for some noms, because what is a trip to the fair without delicious fair food, and the men found us seating right by the stage this band was jamming on. Serendipitous.

 

Gretchen and The Pickpockets hail from New Hampshire but play shows all around New England (and beyond). A simple set up of 2 guitars, a bass, drums, back up vocals by the guys with lead vocals by Gretchen, and a little trumpet-they work together so well to create a sound as unexpected as it is lovely. The set we heard was covers. Gretchen has a smokey, bluesy, soulful quality to her voice that helps transform the songs they are covering to a point that it feels like you are rediscovering them. I haven't heard the cover I have posted below... but I am a sucker for covers of Lorde's "Royals." I hope its as good as their set was. JK... I can't find it to upload. So an Imagine Dragons cover will have to do.

 

 

1.

And that brings us to the less awesome segment: a song you should try to forget about. I say try because it is SO GODDAMNED CATCHY and it is EVERYWHERE.

 

Also hailing from Massachusetts is Meghan Trainor. Her song "All About That Bass" blew up the charts in a blink of an eye. Its dancey, and catchy... and the message isn't completely terrible. Her skinny bitches dig, is followed by "no, I'm just playing" which can seem like a half-hearted way of trying not to alienate the skinnier listeners. No one needs to put down another to lift someone else up, even in jest. I am pretty ok with most of the song. Yay, self-love! Yay, acceptance! Yay, body positivity! Yay, calling out magazines' impossible beauty standards! BUT REMEMBER, BOYS LIKE MORE BOOTY TO HOLD ON TO AT NIGHT. AND THEY LIKE IT WHEN YOU HAVE BOOM BOOM/ALL THE RIGHT JUNK IN THE RIGHT PLACES.

 

*sigh*

 

Really? Your mama told you that it's ok to be larger because boys like more booty to hold on to?

 

LIES.

 

The video is adorably...pink. And Ms. Trainor is adorable. But the truly best part of the video if the gentleman with the sweater around his shoulders gettin' down like he is Jimmy Junior Pesto (#allriiiiiiiiiiiiiight). What could have been a truly empowering song ends up sending mixed messages about body acceptance.

 







Back on the Horse?

Wow. So I never ended up making that Singapore Chow Mei Fun (womp womp). And life has been cray, 50 Shades of Cray. BUUUUT, a lot of awesome stuff has happened with a dash of terrible and a lot of crying.

On an extremely positive note: I am an Auntie again! The wee neice is beautiful and perfect. And has the coolest room ever, thanks to her crafty mom and carpenter dad.

I also took on a new RHPS role: Dr. Frank-N-Furter! This is/was awesome. However, the lead up to it was...not. It was a week of tears. I am pretty sure I cried myself dehydrated. I had packages of costume pieces and make-up stolen after delivery (Bless Amazon for being so great about stolen shipments/refunds.). Costume pieces not fitting. Things being comically too small. And some epic last minute punting by The Husband.

The show was good. For those who are unaware of my RHPS nerdage: The cast I am in is one I directed for a few years a while back. I spent years stage managing shows or just taking notes while directing. I am hyper-critical of my own performance (not as much for others). I got in my head, BAD. I decided EVERYTHING I did was out of sync with the movie, so I set up camp in my head and totally psyched myself out. I can say I didn't totally suck. It needs some work, but it is not the end of the world.

Even more fun, was the show the night before. Getting to see a friend tackle the same role and NAIL IT was so exciting. It isn't often a bunch of new Franks drops in your lap and this October our cast has 3! Bow chick wow wow.

More interesting posts to follow, I swear.

The Ball. It Was Dropped.

So... Clealry I dropped it like it was hot here.

Terribly sorry!

Here's a quick update:

• We're moving! In November. And sadly, I tink I might miss The Establishment.
• I can get a puppy!
• I am taking on 1, possibly 2, new Rocky Horror roles.. the first of which is Dr. Frank-N-Furter. jiggly thighs and bits EVERYWHERE.
• Trying a new dinner tonight: Singapore Mei Fun. Maybe a quick post on that soon.

Budapest- George Ezra

This song is my everything right now. It's my work jam. My putting on make-up jam. Everything but my cooking jam--That is usually the Fallout Boy station on Pandora.

 

 

 

 

Listen. Love. Jam.

You're welcome.

The Crackhead Argument

Lately, The Establishment has been quiet. Less people in and out. No children and infants hanging outside. It was the calm before the storm.

As The Husband and I were leaving to head out to Arlington yesterday, a… gentleman left The Establishment. He looked inebriated. At the very least hopped up on something. His gait was swirvey at best and he didn’t look like he was of sound mind. He was in front of us by a few yards. Then the spectacular shouting match started.

From behind us, another… gentleman started to engage the head lady at The Establishment in what can only be described as the “no, YOU’RE a crackhead” argument.

It goes a little something like this:

Head Lady in Charge: You’re a fucking scumbag!

Gentleman: I’m a scumbag? You’re a fucking crackhead! Fucking meth head!

*back and forth for a minute on each being scumbags, crack heads, meth heads and crazy pieces of shit*

Gentleman: Just remember, my cousin is a cop you bitch!

HLIC: You’re a fucking scumbag! Your crackhead!

The man ahead of us, looking like he was a tweaker who just got some sweet Shaboo, stopped and waited for the other gentleman and they walked off into the hot afternoon together.

Because Gloucester.

The "Dressing Up" Experiment

It's a fairly well known fact that getting a new 'do can make you feel like a million bucks. Fresh hair easily corrolates to fresh attitude. Last night, I did not put myself down at all while having an intimate discuss with The Husband. I even went as far as pointing it out. It went like this--paraphrased to keep the identity of the innocent secret and because I can:

MPA: Beautiful Amazon friend's butt would be much better to bongo on than mine.
TH: ZOMG, you have a good butt. Blah, blah, blah (*please read that the way Ke$ha sings it).
MPA: Silencio. I didn't say anything negative about my tush. I am merely pointing out that the shape of hers--
TH: YOUR'S HAS A GOOD SHAPE!
MPA: I am not saying anything bad about my butt. I am just pointing out that the shape of hers is better for bongoing and would be, in terms of tone, much better than mine. I am in no way saying mine is bad.

Boom.
It happened. I didn't put myself down. I could have. It would have been so easy to slip a quick dig in, but I didn't. It was weird. And surprising. But strangely nice.

So, I decided to take that and run with it. Knowing I am capable of not being terrible to myself coupled with the notion that altering something about yourself can equal a new 'tude, I decided to create an experiment. If I dress up, will it impact the way I view myself/help me further this being nice to myself thing I have going on?

Step back, y'all! I am doing (social)science.

 

 

Here is the formula:

 

(SpH*2) + (GgS/Mu*SkCardie)/HSg= New MPA

 

For those of you not up on my COMPLETELY made up fashion math:

SpH=Spikey Heel

GgS= Gold glitter Skirt

Mu= Make-up

SkCardie= Skull Cardigan

HSg= Hot Sunglasses

 

I've discussed make-up before. Black eye liner, gold and neon eyeshadow, and oxblood lipstick go a LONG way in my book.

 

The shoes are TEH SEX.

The outfit is cute. and easy. I told The Husband I felt like a fat hooker and that I was totally ok with it.

Here are the results:

I feel like people are looking at me differently. Like they feel like I am a put together person.

I feel like I look good. I even complimented my legs with hte heels on.

I have not turned any compliment into a negative.

I don't feel better about myself/more confident/anything like that.


Verdict?
I clean up well, but looking #swankyasfuck does not make me feel better about myself.

The Concept of Home

There are two things in my family that seem to be temporary situations: marriage and where you live. Something I continually struggle with, in my lighter and darker times, is the concept of home.What is it? Where is it? Where is mine? Why don't I feel like it applies to me?

Please understand that I 100% mean the abstract, conceptual meaning here. The place where you feel home instead of your physical habitat. Nor am I talking about the idea that home is where your heart is, because to quote Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog: "...Home is where your heart is/So your real  home's in your chest." I've never been one to share feelings. And while co-habitating with The Husband is great, I don't feel like I am "home" because he is there.

We moved around. A lot. Or at least a lot for the average family. Places I can remember living? 13. 14 if you count my semester of dorm living and 15 if you count my Aunt's house in San Diego where I spent most of my summers. There were 3 (I think) other places where we lived but I was too young to remember. Other than a trailer in New Hampshire, we didn't own any of the places where we lived. When you move around that much you learn not to become attached to the house/apartment/cottage/whatever where you lay your head. I have learned a lot moving around this much: Moving is terrible. Never fully unpack--you don't know when you'll have to pack it all up again. Always know where your empty boxes are or where to get some (working retail really helped here!). Use those 3M sticky hooks instead of nails so you don't have to fill holes later. Resepct the integrity of the place and clean the hell out of it when you leave to make sure your get that security deposit back. Learn to make do with the tiniest of kitchens.

That lack of attachment has always made me feel like I don't have a "home" to call my own. The nomadic instincts are still in me. I cruise craigslist all the time for apartments and condos and houses. Not that we are in a position where we could afford to move/rent/buy anything else right now, but there is a weird bit of hope that comes through when I comb through these ads. An idea of what could be. A buried need to feel the security of having both a home and a "home." To not fear the security deposit. To decorate and paint and create living spaces unabashedly. To throw a dinner party or any party really and not worry about the space. The freedom to do anything I chose in the privacy of something that is truly mine (well, ours). And to not worry about if there is lead paint in this old ass apartment if I become pregnant.

But "home" isn't just a home. It's where you are truly rooted. For some, their home country or the town they grew up in, etc. provides that feeling. I suppose, the closest I have is Gloucester. It's about as homey as I can muster. not a terrible place but there is much to be desired. Sometimes I wonder if going back to San Diego would be a better fit and make me feel more at "home". Unfortunately, I can't shake the feeling that, much like my father, "home" is Hawai'i. Beautiful, magical, mysterious, something that I feel a part of and is a part of me.

Maybe I am not destined to know. Perhaps I am meant to be nomadic, never truly rooted. I just often wonder what I am missing by having a home but never a "home."

Birthday! And What I Learned While Being 28

The Husband knew exactly what I needed for my birthday. Just us, on an adventure, shopping, and dinner. Whattaguy!

We went to Kittery, Maine to the outlets for some much needed bra shopping. Then we went to Newington, New Hampshire to the Fox Run Mall. There are two things here that I love more than anything: Torrid and a candy store that has the BEST CARAMEL APPLES on Earth.

The candy store stopped selling these delicious, godsent apples during the summer. I literally cried the fattest tears of my life when we found this out. Y U NO HAVE MY APPLES???? Its the ONE THING I was truly looking forward too, ya know, other than hanging with The Husband. I was ready to take a picture of its majesty and posting it all over the internet. Instead, I was devastated by not having a sugary apple. What has my life become?!?!

I’ll tell you. It has become skull print and I couldn’t be happier. I got a skull print cardi, a skull print sweater, and shorts with skulls, knives, 13s, and generally spooky shit on them. Not a bad haul. Thank the lawwwwd that Torrid caters to spooky loving fatties!

But before the skull bonanza, The Husband recovered the day by purchasing me my very own dinglehopper! I immediately became sad that I chopped all my hair off and am far less mermaid/manatee like now. But I have a dinglehopper! Of my very own!

DINGLEHOPPER!

Dinner was at the British Beer Company which was quite delicious. I suggest the steak and ale pie with bubble and squeak potatoes. And duck confit egg rolls!!! Nom! But seriously, bubble and squeak potatoes are the best mashed potato dish I have ever had. What is this weirdly named dish I praise so high? Take some mashed potates, add cabbage and chopped meat (they use bacon), and fry. Boom! Life changed. Don’t worry, I am sure I will make this soon and post the tasty results.

 

Almost Birthday

Tomorrow marks a whole 29 years of me crawling/walking/stumbling around the Earth.

I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE celebrating my birthday. I have actually had consistently terrible birthdays since my teens with a few decent ones peppered in to get my hopes up. This is something I have made peace with and I generally try to spend my day holed up, avoiding contact with the outside world.

 

Facebook is the beign of my existence that day. I appreciate that the FB lets everyone know when your birthday is in case they didn't know/forgot/whatev. Given the fact that most of us store everything electronically instead of taking the time to commit things to memory (phone numbers, birthdays, events, etc), it makes sense to gently nudge ourselves with information we may not recall easily. Good on ya, FB. A fair ammount of people I am friends with on the site are not people I see often but still enjoy being in contact with. A smaller margin is family and friends or coworkers I see on teh regular. A slightly higher percent are people I added in the area when I was working for a local business and trying to expand our customer base. I never unfriended them. I thought it was rude. Some of these people I knew from highschool and don't even like (I was commited to getting more foot traffic. What can I say? I am a loyal employee.).

 

For some reason, people that have never liked you (and vice versa) or don't actually know you feel compelled to wish you a happy birthday because it is popped up on the side bar. As well as people who legitimately only speak to you once a year, when they wish you a happy birthday on facebook. My phone blows up with alerts. Its overwhelming, slightly touching, and weird all at the same time. I suppose it is similar to when you are talking to someone you just met and realize a life event just happened and you congratulate them/wish them well or what have you. You have no connection but it is the social norm to do so. No one wants to look like that asshole who avoids this construct in our culture.

 

It's nice that in our busy world, we stop to wish these people in our lives-however peripherally-a happy day. It's some faith in humanity restored. Unless they are someone you have known issues with. Then I think it looks like a bit of one-uppsmanship.

 

I plan on laying a little low. Getting some lunch and then going shopping with The Husband. Nothing overwhelming, aside from the influx of wall posts.

 

There is a wee tradition at work where the day closest to or day of your birthday (at least on my side of the office) where your desk gets decorated. Since I am not in tomorrow, I got decorated today. Last year was filled with epic hand made signs and drawings of Hello Kitty and Pinke Pie (adorbs!). This year is just as nice. Thanks, co-workers! Its just enough celebration for me :)

 

 

So many drinks at my desk 

 

 

Here's to cute clothes, tasty food, and most people I know being at Boston Comic Con-hopefully too busy to drain my phone of all of it's battery. :)

"The Establishment"

I do not live in the best part of Gloucester. It is certainly not the worst, but there is a half-heartedly scrubbed area on the front of the building where you can still read the green spraypaint that says the only word you need to understand some of my neighbors-Meth.

Some of my neighbors are perfectly respectable! Others border on suspicious to say the least. A few doors down is what will hear by be know as "The Establishment." Upon first moving in, I noticed one of the many bumper stickers on their front door was a warning that a crazy bitch lived there. I appreciate the headsup. Truly. Over our few years on the block, the stickers changed and the odd cast of characters have not... At least not that much. Due to the constant stream of people in and out, The Husband and I decided that The Establishment was an illegal boarding house. After discussing it with a friend who knows the seedy underbelly of the area pretty well, and their seeing some of the individuals milling about, confirmed there was a known dealer of the drugs in there. None of this bothers me. To each their own. Until your friends come up to my car window, clearly jonesing and looking for you, I won't car. Even then... I will care some but once they are ambling in a different direction all is well.

The jonesing guy did happen. He was totally cool when we explained that even though we were parked infront of The Establishment that we didn't know any one inside. He milled around their door then shambled down the street.

Since then, the street pharmacist has appeared to leave and the foot traffic has calmed down. Sadly, with him went the very large, derpy husky that jung out of the window.

For a while a sign of cardboard let you know "PUT IT OUT OR STAY OUT!" Perhaps to ward off the previous mix of people coming by? Maybe they quit smoking? Although, one of the ladies there did ask someone walking by if they had a ciggarette. So maybe trying to quit? IDK.

We had been Establishment-incident free for a while, but then Saturday happened. Our car was parked out front and as we were getting in I noticed an adorable child, approximately 3 years of age standing outside. Alone. Well, alone in the sense that there was no adult with him. There was an infant with him in a carriage. Being naturally curious, like a 3 year old do, he was playing with the part of the carriage that sheilds the infant from the elements. It was a pretty cool day for the summer, no blazing sun but some nice breeze. The proprietor of The Establishment came out and told the kid not to play with it because its too cold for the baby.

Yeah. You read right. She left the house to tell him its too cold outside for the baby. While these children are waiting outside for whoever brought them there. She did stay out there with them, at least until we left on our bougie trip to Whole Foods. I was so concerned... Like what are you doing in this place that makes you feel it is ok to leave an infant and a 3 year old outside in not the greatest part of town?

We returned from our trip to Whole Foods and parked in pretty much the same spot. The children were now inside, The Husband pointed out as the carseat part of the carriage was missing. Then I saw the screen door. A shirtless 3 year old stood staring at me. This child proceeded to grill me on why I was parking there. Why don't you park in front of your own house? Why do you live here? The longer the questioning went on, the less I could understand him. He divided his time between grilling me and letting everyone in The Establishment know he was grilling me. We made a break for it when he got tied up talking to those inside. We grabbed our haul and walked away. The Husband reminded me you can't reason with a 3 year old.

He has a point. You really can't reason with a child that young. However there is no understanding your neightbors sometimes.

Hopefully, they will get up to their old hijinks and I can start filling you in on the regular of the weird shit going on at The Establishment.

Music I Am Currently Groovin' To

Back Story: You may not know that I love music. I crave a good tune like people crave chocolate or booze. It changes my moods, helps me concentrate, and generally gets me to a zen state that only cooking/baking can get me to. In terms of genre, I like to think I am eclectic with strong indie leanings. My iTunes is a mis-mash of everything, often confusing the people going through it ("Oh! You have Britney Spears... and the entire Nine Inch Nails Discography... And Richard Cheese... huh."). A lady needs music for every mood and situation. This aids me in making killer mix cds and playlists for long car rides, I have something for everyone.

So that brings me to today's post. It's a theme I'll probably continue with often as I discover good music or fall back on old favorites that make my bones happy. Lately, I have been grooving to some excellent ditties and I'd like to share them with you.

Albums:
These are some albums (instead of like... one or two songs) I can't get enough of right meow:

• Bastille: Bad Blood. British indie pop/rock at its finest. Super catchy in a non-infuriating way. First time listening to them? Give Pompeii or the title track Bad Blood a go.
• Fitz and The Tantrums: More Than Just a Dream. Indie pop/neo soul. A little dancy in addition to catchy. First time listening to them? Try The Walker on for size.
• Brett Dennen: Smoke and Mirrors. Considered folk pop. Whiny, nerdy, goodness. *sigh* I LOVE his whiny, ginger voice so much. New to Brett? Wild Child is my JAM.
• Crosby, Stills, and Nash: Greatest Hits. Folk rock. CSN (and occaisonally Y) make harmonies that stir my soul. Goose bump inducing. It is the sound of angels. Fucking angels. New to the glory of CSN? Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, Our House, and Southern Cross are excellent starters. You're welcome.
• Lorde: Pure Heroine. I love that they are classifying this as "dream pop". I don't even know what that means, but I dig it. For a teen, Lorde has this music thing on LOCK. Songs are very catchy but not in the typical pop way. New to Lorde? IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE? HAVE YOU BEEN UNDER A ROCK? ROYALS HAS BEEN EVERYWHERE. Well, if you are, skip Royals. Go straight to Team or Tennis Court.

Songs:
**I haven't watched most of these videos. #sorrynotsorry if they are weird.

 

• Milky Chance: Stolen Dance. I just want to dance in my chair at work everytime this is on.

• The 1975: Chocolate. I love when I can hear your accent while you sing. I want to dance awkwardly. Like, Ministry of Silly Walks but through dance. Also, there is a FANFUCKINGTASTIC acoustic version of this out in the cosmos.

• Lucius: Turn It Around. Girl group vibe with an indie sound. *tear*

• Kongos: Come With Me Now. There is something tribal...almost feral about my reaction to this song. I feel like it awakens my blood. Did I seriously just say that? #iamthatdouchebag

• Lana del Rey: West Coast. It took me a few months to come around to this. After Videogames I was done with Ms. del Rey. Alas, her smokey voice has seduced my senses. Well played, lady.

• Weird Al: Word Crimes. This. All of this. The animation is perfection in the video. And I like it so much more than the original. GTFO, Robin Thicke.

Not the most eclectic list. *shrug* It's still full of good jams.
Got some tunes you can't get enough of? Leave it in the comments.
Happy listening!
-MPA

Tutorial: Buffalo Cauliflower

In an effort to try new recipes (ala TBT #9) and to eat vegetarian half of the week, The Husband suggested trying buffalo cauliflower "wings" MONTHS ago. This has made the weekly menu a few times but always gets knocked out for other tasty treats. This week, we bought a beautiful head of cauliflower from Whole Foods and stuck to the plan (go Team Awesome!).

I watched a bitchin' tutorial from The Rad Fat Vegan on youtube and read a few recipes to get a general idea of how to make it, then struck out on my own. We had a tight budget this week so I opted to use regular flour instead of buying tummy-friendly flour (read as: GF flours/rice flour/etc), but stuck mainly to the ingredient lists I saw-which were surprisingly almost all the same.

I could have baked them longer as I longed for more crunch. The Husband did not like it. At all. Good on him for trying, though. Veggies are still an exciting new frontier for him.

Here's what you need:
Software:

• 1 head of cauliflower
• 1/2 cup of flour
• 1/2 cup of water
• 2 tbs buttah
• Your choice of buffalo sauce or hot sauce
• The Holy Trinity (salt, pepper, garlic powder)
• Cooking spray and/or parchment paper
• Bleu Cheese or Ranch dressing for dip-dips

Hardware:

• Baking sheet
• Measuring cups
• Whisk
• Large bowl or 2
• Wee bowl (microwaveable)
• Thongs
• Cutting board
• Kitchen knife

Now let's make some veggie "wings"!

1. Preheat your oven to 450 (Crank the AC if you have one in the kitchen-450 is sweat inducing- you lucky, lucky bitch).
2. Cut that beautiful head of cruciferous goodness (that's the cauliflower)! Cut out the green leafy bottom. Then cut into bite-sized florets.
   
3. In a bowl add flour and The Holy Trinity to taste. mix together with whisk and start adding water slowly. The batter you end with should be pancake batter thick or a little thinner. If you don't like the consistency, add more water or flour until you are happy with it.
   
4. Ready your baking sheet for a trip to tasty town. If using parchment paper, you don't NEED cooking spray but feel free to use it if you like. Otherwise, spray yo' sheet.
5. Now dip that shit! Cover the whole floret in batter and shake off the excess. Place on sheet. Repeat until all the cauliflower is coated, then toss in the oven.
   
6. Bake approx 10 minutes. Batter should be kind of firm but not browned.
7. While its baking, make some sauce. Melt the butter in the microwave-or if you are in a teeny tiny apartment and don't have a microwave, make a double boiler and melt some butter. Pour in Buffalo sauce (I dig Frank's or Archer Farms-the Target brand) and add some garlic powder. mix together. I think I used about half of the bottle.
   
8. Take the veg out and toss it in the sauce, coating each piece with firey deliciousness. Return to baking sheet and pop back in the oven.
9. Bake another 15 minutes or until the batter has firmed back up. Bake longer for a crunchy coating.
   
10. Plate and serve with a side of dip-dips. I prefer Marie's bleu cheese dressing.
11. Die of happiness before the cruciferous-ness works its questionable magic (wink, wink).

Happy snacking!
-MPA

TMI Time! Fat Girl Problems: The Search For Sexy

**This post will, toward the end, discuss a sexual encounter with The Husband. It is fairly detail-less and not at all porn-y but the disclaimer is there.**
 
I follow some body positive blogs on the internet and tumblr. While I identify with those that lean on the more fat positive (duh.), I feel strongly that it is just as hard to be “too” skinny as well. Lately, a lot of the blogs I have looked at are focusing on larger women wearing whatever they damn well please (Fatkinis, crop tops and leggings, etc) regardless of our fatphobic culture. The idea is to own your largeness instead of being afraid of it. To find what makes you the whole motherfucking package to someone. But mostly, to see the beauty others seen in you and feel sexy (so scandalous for a fattie!) in your skin.

 

How does one feel sexy while fat while living in the good ol’ USofA? Is it lingerie? Is it walking around the house naked as a jaybird while telling yourself you are sexy? Is it wearing whatever you please, whenever you please and not internalizing the stares or comments?

 Clearly, I have no idea. I never have. Sexy is not something I feel. There are days why the jiggle of my thighs or the swaying of my arms/wings doesn’t bother me. Days when my double chin doesn’t disgust me to some degree. For years I stopped going to the beach on the premise that I was doing others a favor-they didn’t have to see me in a bathing suit. In all actuality, it was my deepest fear that people would stare and make comments-or mistaken me for a very white, beached whale that had this misfortune of eating a plus-sized swimmer before getting tangled in her tragically ugly clearance one-piece. I mean, Jeezey Creezey, I have been in a Rocky Horror cast on and off since high school and two weeks ago wore the least I have ever worn in a show (It was a bitchin’ Eve costume I made for an Epic Rap Battle pre-show). Even then all I kept saying to The Husband and anyone who listened was how naked I felt. But the subtext there was not that I was showing a lot-I wore a tunic length tank top with a garter belt, two pairs of underwear, and fishnet thigh highs (in the RHPS that is pretty damn covered!)-but more that I felt like I looked… Fat.

Now, I am fully aware of my size. I 100% am fat. There is no sugar coating that. The word fat doesn’t bother me. If anything, the only term that bothers me is the hushed way people describe you as “a bigger girl.” Just grow a pair, say fat, and move on. Obviously I looked fat. You can’t hide what you are. My concern wasn’t that I hoped I somehow looked less large than usual… but that I looked fat in a way that makes thinner people look at me with pity. The look that toes the line between feeling bad that I look the way I do and being disgusted that I have the audacity to dress in so little in front of them. This look is what has made me take a back seat in the show since high school. I can count one hand the times I have played a major role in the show. Each one had options for remaining fully clothed. Each pre-show I was in kept with that trend. I spent most of my time doing tech work or stage managing.

 Recently, I lost a little weight. I am not trying to diet. I am trying to eat better: less take out, less meat, and more veggies. I am trying to limit gluten so I don’t spend hours in pain. Exercise and I have a very limited relationship. Will that change? Yes. Not because I feel like I need to be a size 2 but because I want the next big adventure in my life to involve children and I need to take care of myself before I can take care of others. This weight loss isn’t major. It’s a step in feeling more comfortable in my skin. Comfortable but not sexy. I give far fewer fucks about my thighs jiggling or touching or the inevitable chub-rub I get when wearing skirts and dresses. In an effort to embrace this new-ish me, I decided to leave the lights on during sexy-time with The Husband. *Please note, this incident took place at the height of my weight loss a few months ago* Lights on. All jiggly parts visible. Not cowering in the dark or hiding under a blanket. I, for the first time in recent memory, attempted to own my largess. Things were going quite well, until I looked at my shadow.

 What possessed me to look to the side where the wall was is unknown. But there, where my back should be was a tsunami of back fat that rippled and threatened to break on my head, drowning me in an eddy of shame. I could feel it move but it wasn’t until I saw it that everything came crashing (da dum tsss) down. If I can see this, how terrible must it be for him? The current is moving away from him, so I guess it is ok? How disgusting am I? How grossed out must he be that this is what he married? I have waves of back fat that could devastate a small island nation. And then I started crying. Uncontrollably. And then weeping. Unable to breath, weeping, panic attacking, nauseated, nose running, hot mess crying. Nothing gets you a one way ticket out of boner-ville like the above stated trauma. Naturally, The Husband handled it like a champ assuring me he did not feel that way and that I was beautiful, etc. It didn’t help. If anything, it made me feel worse. This is when I really jumped off the better eating wagon. Which naturally made me feel even more terrible about myself.

What have I learned from this? I have no idea how to feel sexy. Wearing next to nothing: Epic Fail. Losing weight and lights on sexy time: Epic Fail. Maybe the answer is to get a crop top and some (more) leggings. Maybe the answer is using RHPS to put myself out there more in front of others. Until then, I will rock my graphic tees, jeans, and cardigans while lamenting it isn’t cool enough out for tent-like sweatshirts.

-MPA

The Revised TBT

For the last few weeks, my thoughts have consumed me. I have been a tsunami of emotions from happy to terribly depressed. Unfortunately, this is how I roll. Even more unfortunately, it is what I am like when I turn my thoughts in on myself. To reflect on one's actions and decisions is overwhelming when your foundation of self-love ranges from very small to non-existent. It was something I needed to do, to help me make a new Thirty Before Thirty list. With approximately 13 months to go, I fear that I will fail on the majority to items on the list. Not because I don't want to do them, but because I fear failure as much as I fear death (spiders, snakes, and other assorted insects tie for the things I fear second most of all).

Here is the revised list. Here is to hoping that by sticking to it and completing it, I learn to fear failing less and embrace putting myself out there more.

TBT-Revised

1. Start a garden including veggies, fruit, and flowers.

2. Make my own cleaning products (home and body).

3. Be better about cleaning and laundry.

4. Spend more time baking and making candy.

5. Get caught up and on track financially.

6. Make ice cream.

7. Make pasta by hand.

8. Journal. Started!

9. Cook 2 new recipes a month, one of which should be non-American.

10. Learn to sew better/actually make things.

11. Read 75 books. No genre limitations.

12. Go to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.

13. Take dance lessons.

14. Join a gym and actually go.

15. Get a tattoo.

16. Learn to play the Ukulele.

17.Take more pictures.

18. Stick to a personal style instead of buying things because they fit.

19. Get a drastic new hair cut. Done, and redone.

20. Eat more locally grown/raised food.

21. Cut out gluten and stick to it. This means baking gluten free too.

22. Go on dates with my husband, at least monthly.

23. Start writing again-Blogging and journaling do not count.

24. Go back to Disney World.

25. Redecorate and refurnish the apartment.

26. Catalog my recipes.

27. Go to Cape Cod.

28. Splurge on a pair of boots.

29. Be touristy around New England.

30. Actually celebrate my 30th birthday. 

Sometimes I Drop the Ball

I posted a Thirty Before Thirty.

I have accomplished one thing-the drastic hair do. Started journaling, stopped. Started reading, keep getting side tracked.

In this time, I have inspired others to make their own lists. Win?

We are rapidly approaching my 29th birthday and I feel like my own goals are causing me to be hyper-worried about the big three-oh.

After much thought (and, admittedly, a few tears), I think I need to reassess my TBT goals. I don't think I am in the same place as I was when I made the original list, nor do I think all of the same things are important to me.

I have been spending a lot of my time wondering what I should do with my life (in terms of school and work, things of that nature). Some of it is beneficial and some not so much. It also doesn't help that I feel like absolute garbage. I haven't been watching what I eat and have been eating way too much gluten. I am starting to feel sluggish and exhausted constantly in addition to all of the fun that accompanies eating wheat-y things.

So, here is to reassessing as we change. To picking up our pieces when we fall apart and to trying to reconcile that to be human is to make some mistakes.

It's Been a While

Sorry for the lack of communicado! Here's what I have been up to:

Remember that post about how to make feminism digestable for the teens? I was prepping for that and teaching that to the young ladies where I volunteer.

105 girls signed up but I only had 78 seats. :( It broke my heart.

But the class went so well!

My topics were:

• Haute Couture or Haute Mess-why what we wear matters. In this class, we discussed the idea of what is acceptable vs. what is sold as well as the focus on celebrity fashion. This also covered those terrible who wore it better/fab or drab articles as well as the dependency on make up and contouring.
• To Has Cheezburger or Not to Has Cheezburger-why weight is the question. This covered body image lashback for all sizes as well as the altering of toys and animated characters into a sexualized body type (with much care to never actually say the word sexualized).
• Character Assassination-How our beloved fictional characters measure up to today's "standards". Covering Hermione, Katniss, Bella, Tris, Arya, and Daenerys with special consideration given to how the media defines a strong female character as well as analyzing their names to identify their strengths and weaknesses.
• The Dreaded "F"word-do we still need feminism? Explaining what feminism is, including the three waves and different types of feminism.

The girls were so receptive to the material and had some great discussions about it. Girls thanked me for teaching it and asked for pictures with me, and even said they wanted to go back to their schools to start feminist clubs. It was incredibly heart-warming and rewarding. The kind of experience that makes me think twice about what I am doing now and if I should go back to school to persue teaching. Teaching is in our blood on my mom's side of the family. My grandmother was a teacher. i had a cousin go to school for it. I started to go to school for it. However, I'd prefer to be a college professor than teach high school or middle school.

The Daily Grind

Lately I have found myself getting hyper-aggrevated while working. Either in the office or on projects I do from home. I was always the person in group projects that felt like they had to do everything or it wouldn't get done. That cleared up a bit on college because I was lucky enough to do most of my group projects with dedicated scientists that really cared about scientific integrity.

I don't know what it is that is coded in my DNA but it makes me feel like I have to work a mile a minute on everything I am doing to make sure it is done in a timely, percise fashion. I suppose that is a good thing when people are depending on you. However, I feel the need to take it further and pick up the pieces others leave behind or don't quite finish. I make their work my work and let all of the pressure consume me. While I have often felt I perform best under pressure, it is seriously exhausting. With my mind always going, it is hard to wind down at night which throws my sleep schedule off and makes me so sleepy all day. Caffeine is not much help, either.

Maybe I just need to relax. I just don't know how to. I guess that is something to work on.

Anniversary Scavenger Hunt

Clearly, I didn't get this done alone the way yesterday. I was too busy enjoying it and too nervous to drop my phone in some sand. My apologies!

I got up early enough to beat my mug into perfection.

This was a struggle, not the mug-beating but the getting up. I had stayed out late with a friend and JACKED my foot up. Naturally, I had taken my sandals off on Pavilion Beach so I wouldn't get sand in the footbed. I channeled my inner geology student and climbed some rocks... barefoot. I slid a little and jammed my toe and foot. Ouch. It's ok. Dr. The Husband fixed me up, washing sand and debris from my wound and dealing with me crying like a child when he used alcohol and skin sheild.

The premise of today's hunt is for me to travel around to places that have some kind of meaning to us and meet up with friends along the way to navigate me through the guessing. I have italicized its meaning for those who are curious.


First Stop: Pleasant Street Tea Company in Gloucester
This is our coffee place. This is were we go if we want coffee or tea and aren't running late for life. Upon arrival I cheated and looked around the parking lot across the street to see if I could easily identify any of them. Success! I go in and find our friends Jaimie and Paul along with their fabulous daughter. Order a fancy coffee and caught up while the wee one rearranged the shops furniture (the feng shui must have been off).

Second Stop: Tuck's Candy in Rockport
I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE taffy. OMG. So friggin much. The Husband has learned this well because everytime we are downtown or in town for the 4th of July, I have to stop. We arrived and I was handed off to my next guides, Krystal and Tristan. We shopped for delicious candy (taffy and old fashioned candy sticks for me!) before departing on to the next stop.

Third Stop: Pavilion Beach in Gloucester
Pavilion, famouse for The Greasey Pole and Seine boat races is my thinking spot. If I am having a rough time dealing with something or we get into a fight and I need to leave, The Husband knows he can find me here--perched on a rock. Possibly the one that jacked me up on Saturday.Still with the awesome Krystal and Tristan, we parked in St. Peter's Square, home of St. Peter's Fiesta. We deviated from the plan and went on a hunt for coffee. Lone Gull was open and we sat in wonderfull leather seats and drank our deliciousness. [Side Bar: San Pellegrino Pompelo (Grapefruit) soda is fantastic! I don't usually go for white grapefruit products but this was totes worthit!) We trecked back to the beach where we talked and I started to sun burn--something I didn't find out until much later.

Fourth Stop: Captain Dusty's in Manchester
We love ice cream. We have three spots we like it from, Captain Dusty's or Richardson's for hard serve and Long Beach Dairy Maid for soft serve.The fourth stop brough great joy to me! Waiting at the ice cream shop were my brother-in-law, sister-in-law and their two adorable wee ones! There is something so terribly adorable about listening to children order their own ice cream. One so confidently, like he was born to annihilate the cone and the other so sweetly, with a shy little 1-inch voice. After enjoying my kiddie sized wildcat (butterscotch ice cream with oreos in it. Seriously. It's real.) we headed to my next destination.

Fifth Stop: West Beach in Beverly Farms
Prior to meeting The Husband, I would drive by West Beach. Sometimes I would get huffy and be like "really, Bev Farms? You need a private beach? *scoffing noises*" Then we met and his family is partially from there. Do they neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed a private beach? Meh. Is it one of the best beaches around? Hell to the yes. It's beautiful and even though I received the WORST sunburn of my life there, I'd happily go there anytime. Perks to being a private beach? My sister-in-law and I had a cup of Chard while relaxing on the veranda. Does it get any better? I don't think it does. Fun Fact: West Beach was where we originally planned to have our wedding ceremony. It also home to many family events in the summer.

 

 

Sixth Stop: Salem Willows

I arrived at the Willos to find my pal Aimee waiting. Why the Willows, you may ask. What is so special about a few arcades, delicious candied popcorn, chow mein or egg foo yung sandwiches? It was the spot of our second date and being the gentleman he is, he gave all of our tickets to a child after. Aimee and I decend upon the madness and do the smart thing: only cash in $2 each for playing. I could have wasted all of my money on the skee ball. I have a problem. We played in one arcade where an adorable little girl stole all of my tickets when I finished playing. NBD, wee one, i don't need them anyway. Seriously, what am I going to get for 20 tickets or less? We wandered over to the other arcade where I was met with my second arcade love: Pin Ball. I am no Tommy, but I love that shit. I did terribly and it cost three quarters to play (a bit pricey, me thinks). Of course I did terribly, I played Monopoly... I hate Monopoly more than any human should hate something. #YOLO

 

 

And there was more skee ball to be played in the second arcade!

We gave our tickets to the cutest little guy who was rocking out to Guitar Hero. I didn't even though they made an arcade version of it! Guitar Hero wasn't the only musical...thing in the second arcade. They had the creepiest old display that if you put in a dime, old scary monkeys "played" music.

And the one in the bottom right corner looked like he was playing with boobs.

Dirty monkey!

Seventh Stop: Salem Beer Works (in Salem... if the name didn't give it away)

For a long time, this was our spot. If we were going out to dinner, 9 times out of 10 you could find us here. We've had a lot of good food, good beer (for him), and good laughs, like that time we both ordered foot long hot dogs and died after they came out:

                                                                            

Aimee and I enjoyed some lunch while discussing the important things in life: people we don't like, work, food, and pets. :)

Eight Stop: Tuck's Point in Manchester

This is the site of our wedding ceremony.

Aimee left me in the company of Sam and Stan, the maid of honor and best man of our wedding. Sam had a cute bouquet for me that was similar to my wedding bouquet. We milled around breifly and after almost being run over by a child on a bike, decided it was time to head to the final stop.

Nineth Stop: My In-Laws' home in Manchester

Not only have they been lovely and welcoming since day one, they were kind enough to let us live there with them for a while AND it was the location of our reception. I won the in-law jackpot, y'all.

I was blindfolded for this. I walked down the yard, led by Sam and Stan, like I was drunk. There, waiting for me was a kilt-clad Husband on one knee holding a ring he gave me as wedding gift. He proposed to another year, but naturally before he got a word in he was told the blind folding would never again happen (I know how to make him feel loved.). I accepted in front of everyone and we had a lovely bar-b-que with those nearest and dearest to us.

It was a a wonderful day, filled with pure joy and love. I couldn't have asked for a better anniversary.

 

The only thing I'd do differently? Wear sunblock.

The photo doesn't do it justice. It is way worse than it looks.