Skrinker:

If you're not one of us, if you didn't actually make up the word and have been using it since 2003/2004, and to this day, then you probably don't know what skrinker means.

Basically, it's a verb. But I guess it could go noun too. To define it seems somewhat complex, but really it's not. Once you hear what it is and what it's all about you'll get it. And I'd like to see you use it. Implement it in your daily conversation; I dare you. It feels good.

With the recent questions surrounding the term, I figured I'd go straight to the source. I sent out an email recently to the girls, for their take on the definition, and asking them to use an example. Because examples are good, and if we're doing a little tutorial here it makes sense, right?

Definition 1- To me, the word skrinker means to kind of get in something. Move about, play around, tinker with, check out, make. For instance, I skrinker around in my closet for an outfit to wear on Friday. I'm skrinkering up some plans for the weekend. Let's go in the bedroom and skrinker. To me it just kind of takes on its own meaning based on the context it's used in. Noun form I'd probably say… "I made some dinner, but there's only a skrinker of it left so I'd whip something else up too."

Definition 2- ok well...i'd say skrinker is definitely a verb. it has many meanings. the primary meaning is something like 'sneaking around' or 'causing mischief'. like k definitely skrinkers when she's lookin online, or just bein herself. it can also mean to plan. or to put something together, like to organize a party ("we should skrinker some people over") or to make a meal ("i'm trying to skrinker something to eat outta these slim pickins"). i also have used it to mean 'slink' or 'traipse' like when someone enters the room in some notable way. another one is "to look for." like, if someone was digging around in a drawer, you might ask "what are you skrinkerin' over there?"
i really could go on for pages and pages. but i guess those are the main ways i use the word skrinker. it's an excellent word, one i will proudly use, whether my audience knows what the fuck i'm talking about or not.

Definition 3- Here goes nothing:
skrinker: To move about with no apparent direction e.g. "K had nothing to do last weekend, so she just skrinkered around Worcester on Saturday." Also, it could be used to describe a mischievous person, possibly that weird guy at the corner of the bar looking to cause trouble. This would prompt a lean-over to a friend, saying, "Look at that random skrinkerer over there. You can tell he's up to no good." However, it does not have to only describe a person, for example, it can describe ideas. If you have a lot going on, you can be said to "have a lot of different thoughts skrinkering around in your head." In which case, I guess a good synonym would be "meandering."

Definition 4- I thought about what skrinker means (by the way, it ain't in the dictionary from what I can see):It means to mosey around and sometimes do random non describable activities - such as 'skrinkering online' - What? I guess just meaning lookin around and scoping scenes. K always comes to mind when I hear the word skrinker. It reminds me of being a little sneaky/discreet about what you're doing - not in a bad way, just in a silly way. That's how I see it :)

Definition 5- I'm sure the other girls have already covered everything about 'skrinker,' but here's my definition. skrinker: 1. to mosey around without a particular direction or purpose. In the setting of a day when someone doesn't have to do anything, and really doesn't plan on it, that person would be "skrinkering around" usually I think about it in the context of staying in your apt or house in your pj's and watching TV. To skrinker involves minimal movement. That is the main way in which I would think of 'skrinker'; 2. however I would also use it meaning to make something out of minimal resources. Kind of like Magiver, but with a lazy connotation. ex. instead of going out to eat we skrinkered together some dinner. You could also use it referring to an outfit or a cocktail, anything someone would normally want to put effort into making. Those are the two ways I would think of skrinker; however I'm sure it's been used in many more circumstances.

Definition 6- skrink-er \skrĭng'kər\, verb, skrink-ered, skrink-er-ing
-Verb:
1. To wander aimlessly.
2. To maneuver around in a sly manner. You may or may not have a purpose in doing so.
—Related forms
skrink-er-er, noun
skrink-er-ing-ly, adverb
-Noun:
T's the definition of a skrinkerer. A skrinkerer can be good or bad depending on who he/she is. Trina is a good skrinkerer. A bad skrinkerer is someone up to no good (i.e. the smelly drunk guy at the MB bar). A bad skrinkerer is mischievous and can cause annoyance, harm, and/or trouble.
My question is this:
Now that we know what skrinker means, what is a skrink?

And there you have it. Thank you to my wonderful girlfriends for their own takes on the word. Now you blogbuds know a spec more about my title here.

Happy Wednesday!

she's baaaack

It was that easy breezy beautiful kind of summer. I was 18? Maybe 19. Summer break before Junior Year of college. It was the year I met her, working at the air force base together, my stint as a shredder. Take that literally. I spent half of my day in a room to small to be a room, more like a closet. AC blasting, surrounded by heaps and heaps (for you Egan) of to-be-shredded paper. The other half of the day I spent next to her, in a cube that wasn't really a cube, no divider at least, doing some kind of computer work that I didn't understand, but really actually, emailing each other. Even though we were at an arms length from each other we'd script out lengthy emails about our summer nights with friends, boy friend issues and mishaps, and about what we should order for lunch. A trip to the Dunkin Donuts on base was our daily ritual. Sitting in her old school Buick, we'd make our way to just streets away to fill ourselves up on iced coffees. This was before the Simon and Garfunkel and Oasis renditions. Before we were legally old enough to buy our own booze. It was a time of curfews or rather breaking them, and dating a guy who was older than me that my father thought was too old. I loved life that summer. Work was easy and we were out by 3:30pm. It was when nights were thought to be cool when they were spent in Target's stationary or movie department. We'd go to the mall after, and frequently hit Sully's Ice cream for a frappe on our way home. It was that type of summer that you don't want to end, not that you ever want summers to really end. Going back to school, as exciting as it was to be the year of turning 21, and back to roommates and parties and a free gym, was sad in a way, in a new way. It was the summer I met one of my very best friends. The type you know right then and there will be one of those lifelong friends. Distance like West Virginia to Mass didn't matter then as much as France to Boston-ish hasn't mattered now. You vow to keep in touch with these type of friends because they have worked their way into your heart and you can't possibly imagine losing that link. So you email and call and you do what you gotta do to make it work. The friendship, it works because it's become so much a part of you that without it you'd be missing a piece of yourself that has grown to love this person. So you babysit her fish for nine months. They start out as 35 and she comes home to 5, but that's okay because you tried she says. And at 4:37pm on a Thursday that isn't going so hot, you receive a phone call from her and she's in the same! time! zone! She's home. And just like around this time in 2001, again you've got that feeling that this will be a good summer.

this blogging thing and new friendships

You start this blogging thing for yourself. To get your ideas out there, have an outlet for the stuff that floats around in your head, and heart, on a daily basis. I started this bad boy not knowing a whole hell of a lot about how things work here. And now my writing instructor is asking me, go figure?, to explain to the class what the blogging phenomenon is all about.

Which I suppose I could start out by saying what I just did. Why I started, how I feel a sense of community with this whole thing. How it's just a whole nother thing to get your writing out there, in a public forum and kind of let go of stuff, in that way. The support and feedback you get from others through this way. I could talk about how to start a blog, how to funkify it all with headers and all that crazy jazz (which I clearly keep to a basic minimum seeing as how the wordpress switch caused me to need a drink on contact with the mere thought of it). I could talk about the pros and cons of blogging, but what I really, really want to say about it all right now, is the opportunity to meet amazing people through this way.

I knew when I left for my trip to Myrtle Beach last week that I was going to miss this place. Reading about new digs and food gems, vacations in Spain, looming babies and clogged drains, girlie things and shoes, top ten lists, kids birthday parties and facepainting. And I knew I was going to be meeting Brooke, one of my first ever blogging friends, and one of the big reasons this blog that I was starting back in August just felt to totally make sense.

There are those type of friends that you meet in college, or high school even. Those you make an instant connection with, that have seen you through your best and worst times, breakups and breakthroughs. They're the clichéd friends that you would call at 3am on the rare occasion that you aren't already together. These are the ones that I had the luxury of vaca-ing with last weekend. And what a freaking great vaca it was. The weather was to die for, the beach was beautiful, our place was the bomb, it was all just so perfect.

There are the friends I traveled with, and then there are friends of a different type. Ones you don't see often, but when you do it just feels like no time at all has passed. Or maybe you haven't even met yet, but when you do, it just feels so comfortable in a way that you could only hope for. Thank god for blogging for the fact that I met my long lost twin sister. We swear we share DNA. From the name similarities, to the little things we continue to find in common with each other. From our music choices to drink selections. The tv shows we both like, and our affinity for being attracted to the same type of guy (ahem). You know when you just meet someone and it just feels like your paths were meant to cross? As though certain things happened in life to direct you toward each other? Well that's how it felt when I "met" her back several months ago. Through letters and phonecalls I have gotten to know this amazing girl that I cannot come up with enough wonderfullness for. So Saturday when we finally got to meet meet, it didn't surprise me in the least that it just had that real real comfortable, fun, easy feel to it all. The kind of feeling you get when you hang with an old friend, an old comfortable friend. That feeling like everything is just really right and you're happy and like there's no place you'd rather be that with these type of friends. Because they get you and it's just this indescribeable bond.

So in a couple weeks, in my writing class, I'm going to talk about what a blog is and how it all works. How you start one, why it's a good thing, what can suck about it. (Because I am Miss Blog Know How; you can call me that now, thanks.) But what I really want to show love for right now is the amazing group of people I've met through this whole thing. I'm laying on the cheese factor here, I know. I'll stop. I just really like all of this, all of you. And that I got to meet someone I consider one of my closest friends from all of this, well that's just pretty damn sweet.

on those girl crushes...

After writing the post the other day on girl crushes, I surveyed a few more of my friends (still working on the guys), and here's a gem of a quote from my good friend B:

"I would have to say someone I know...it would be my friend Lauren's sister in law. She is a lawyer, very smart, very classy, always put together, always looks perfect, but not snooty and stuck up, a runner, has a golden retriever, and is married to Lauren's brother who is like a child in a 30 year old man's body...so that makes her all the more normal for a rich lawyer who lives in Alexandria, Virginia. I can only hope I'm that confident and put together someday!"

the before, where it's still really good.

When it's at it's best, it can be really good. It's all about firsts. First phone call from him, first voicemail, first time out together, first kisses. Planning. Outfits, fun outings. How to wear your hair. Purchases. New undies, thongs. New shoes. A manicure and soon to be regular pedis. Excitement. Looking forward to your evening calls, to doing new things together, planning to try new things together, anticipating them.

Gushing to your friends about it all the next day. Where he took you, how he had it all planned out and how you liked that. A guy that has a plan in mind = good change for you. You tell them how funny he is, how the conversation just flowed. How you kissed him first at that martini bar and how good that felt. You're excited but don't want to be too excited. Because you know about jinxing and you don't want to do any of that. But you still share the details. How cute you thought it was when he made conversation with the cab driver, how he asked you questions and seemed genuinely interested in your life, your family and friends. How he asked for a story about each of your rings. It's a new kind of feeling for you and a good one at that. You share details about how you liked how he was donning not white gym socks, but appropriate, man socks, with his man shoes. How he said he liked your lipgloss.

When it's new and going well, it's fun and exciting. It's about the anticipation and the novelty of it all. Learning someones little quirks, him learning yours, and the realization that things are actually going well. Maybe even somewhere. Perhaps. Who knows? But it's fun.

When it's not as much at it's best, but when it's the opposite, it's not fun. When it's at it's worst, and I'm talking about new dating, not relationship stuff here, it's all the opposite. It's turned somewhat into another type of the waiting game. Because plans aren't being made they are being canceled. And phonecalls in the evening aren't happening, not with him at least. With your friends, asking if there's any update? Have you talked? But you haven't heard, from him, still. And now it's gone from two fun weeks of new undies, new shoes, plans, and dates, back to what once was.

Which isn't bad at all. It never was. You've loved single. In fact you're more used to the before than the two week time frame of fun with him. Which doesn't take away from the fun you did have, because you did. Have fun. With him. For that time it was good. Real good. New, and nice. And if the nice and the new kept going on, kept going good like it was and continued so for some time, then you would be willing to reevaluate the before. The single. For the right timing, person, and circumstances, you would let the before go. It's just a feeling when you know it's right, and that feeling has to be there.

Anyway.

And although it seems weird and you don't understand it, all the analyzing in the world, with your girlfriends over martinis on a weeknight, isn't going to make that phone ring. It doesn't really answer the questions you're asking. It will leave you tipsy and probably a little resentful. Because you end up questioning yourself and him. And we all know how this goes after three key lime martinis. It goes no where good. You know you should just take the time for what it was, fun and new and exciting. You have new shoes to show for it, some fun times behind you and some happy little memories to deposit into the dating bank. And well, it's in the past now and you're back to square one. Which is all very fine because square one, you're used to. Square one is familiar territory.

Because who knows, maybe he'll call you tomorrow, or next week or in a month. Or maybe not at all. But waiting for it or willing it to happen doesn't make it happen. And there may very well be a good reason. You hope so at least. That nothing is seriously wrong or anything like that. Because bottom line, it just is what it is.

This is dating and at it's best it has potential to be exciting and fun.

At it's worst it at least reminds you that the before was really good too.

Anticipation.

Know what's pretty sweet? The fact that I'm going on two trips within the next 2 months, and needed to pay all of $10 for them. That's two flights, one this weekend to NY to see my beloved almost sister, and one to Nevada in April to see my dear Daddo.

So that's all so exciting, but right up there with jump up and down excitement is the trip I've booked to Myrtle Beach with the lovely ladies who I intend to still be friends with 35 years from now.

I always say, I've always thought, that half the fun of a trip is the anticipation of it. Like when I went to Miami this past October. Although the intended dates of departure needed to be shifted due to circumstances beyond our control, I got to stew with excitement, times two. Unfortunate that it didn't work out as originally planned in August, but none the less, I got to experience what I like to call pre-trip foreplay, twice. So even though I didn't actually vaca, in August, I pre-trip foreplayed for it. Oh, and it was amazing. Kind of along the same lines as mixed drinks + flirting, making out + pawing at each other, pre-trip foreplay is totally my thing. Lest it seem here that the analogy I'm trying to make means that I see actual foreplay as always mandatory, let me just state the fact that I sometimes prefer getting right down to business. Anyway, I'm getting away from the subject at hand.

The point is, I love the pre-trip foreplay. The booking of the trip. The planning process of it all. Looking for the perfect hotel, the right flight, departure times, car rental. What gets me off even more (I'm talking about the trip still), is the excitement that is the planning of the outfits. The shopping pre-trip. Looking for that special bikini, although perhaps not as fun early March in unfortunate lighting illuminating ghostly white skin. But finding the perfect dress. That fits just right and you just feel amazing in. Maybe you'll never wear it again, but you have it for the upcoming trip and you're damn amused as you strut into your apartment trying it all on. The strappy sandals with the new halter and skirt. You rub a little Banana Boat sunscreen on your arm and you close your eyes and picture Jimmy Buffet and you and your girlfriend's sipping a beach cocktail with the waves crashing ahead of you.

And as the time nears closer, you get more and more antsy, fidgety, just waiting for it to come. The trip that is.

You can't control yourself. You count the days, x them off in your work agenda. Get your out of office reply ready, gather the magazines and books you've been wanting to read for forever, and probably get the highlights you've been putting off for a month or so. You book your mani/pedi and it's only one more day, and you can barely sleep. So you don't sleep. You stay up that night before, blasting the stereo in your living room as you and your roommate pack, doing fashion shows of what you should wear the next day to the beach. It's probably late now, and you're probably drinking a celebratory martini, because, well, you can. And it's almost here. Finally, you decide you should at least try to rest, just a little. So you're in your bed and you're awake, thinking, likely giggling out loud imagining the next several days of GLORY.

It's finally here and the excitement is at an all time high. You're heart is racing and you are envisioning the blue ocean, the pretty drinks you will throw back too many of, the smell of a far off hotel room, the balcony that you can only imagine will overlook a serene scene. You arrive at your destination and the pre-trip foreplay has brought you to an amazing climax. And for the next several days you are in heaven. Oh this feels so good.

Man, how I love a vacation.

these thoughts are not foolish

In this one you are contemplating something. You have to be, right? Your eyes are telling a story here. I just don't know what the theme is, exactly. I can't pinpoint it. I am sure that you are happy though; I can sense that. You look very comfortable, and content. Your body language is saying that you are at ease. You are sitting beside your best friend. Your eyes in this picture... you look like you've got a story to tell. What is it?

I wish I was there when this picture was taken. What were you doing at the time it was taken, or right before? You aren't flashing a full smile, but you look so happy. And pretty. Do you know that you have that capability? To just sit there, and maybe without noticing that a picture is being taken of you, or without a big grin even, you look remarkably beautiful, just being there?

Your eyes tell a story and I wonder what it is. I can sense all that I have mentioned, but I have so many questions, still. Where was this taken? Who took it? I think that I own that same exact jacket, another similarity we share among a thousand others. Where did you get it? How did you feel when that picture was taken?

You mailed this picture to me. In the real mail, with a letter you had handwritten me. Since then, I've seen many other pictures of you. It is this picture though, my friend, that sticks out in my mind. When I think of you, this is the image that comes to my mind. It is the first picture I ever saw of you. It's what I "picture," when I get a letter from you in the mail, an email, a text message, or a phone call.

There's a saying, "a picture is worth a thousand words." Well this picture is no exception. Seeing this picture, after corresponding with you for several months, gave me such a good feeling inside. I can't even really describe it in the words that would be able to capture the emotion that I feel when I look at it. When I first saw that picture, I could tell that you were kind, and warm. Happy and intelligent. Fashion savvy and confident. Humorous and easygoing. Content and at ease. You seemed, back then, like someone I would be friends with, in real life. We started out as penpals, but I honestly believe we have developed a friendship that will last a lifetime. Although we have never met in real life, I wait in eager anticipation for that day. We will have the best time together. I just know this. I can tell, based on that one picture of you. We were destined to be friends.

The Sounds of Silence

"I got grossed out, danced some more, some guy poked me with his boner for an entire song, got grossed out, gave a fake number to some guy who asked me, his name was Boston, left this bar around 7 in the morning."

This is why I love this girl. B may be oceans away, six hours apart, and while she's sitting in a cafe for lunch eating fruit, and cheese, and a baguette, I'm hitting snooze and coming up with an excuse to skip the gym. But this, emails that contain contents such as the sample above, are why I know that no matter how far apart, how long I don't see this girl, how many weeks we go without talking, that she is one of my very best friends, and will be, forever.

35 years from now

At first I thought the goosebumps were from the window that I had cracked open while I was drying my hair this morning getting ready for holiday festivities. But as I heard Merideth Viera telling the story of this precious group of ladies and their annual holiday tradition, I realized it was actually the tv segment, that was giving me the chills.

The Today Show this Christmas morning, featured a group of 6 or 7 ladies, and their holiday tradition. For 35 years these women have gotten together, just the girls every year during Christmastime, to celebrate their friendship and the meaning of the season. As they showed them all, laughing, drinking, crying together, I found myself with tears in my own eyes. These women have been the very best of friends for over 35 years- they have been through everything together. Marriages. Children. Cancer. Divorce. Triumphs. Disappointments. Everything that best friends go through together, they have been there on the journey together for the past three plus DECADES.

And as I was watching it, I couldn't help but think- wow. The best part of the whole segment, besides seeing these precious little ladies laugh, celebrate, and be merry together... was the thought that this will be us in 35 years.

Saturday night, the night before Christmas Eve, I got together with 5 of my best friends for our annual tradition. Quite similar to these ladies, although probably more in the way of the pomegranate martini consumption, we celebrated our Christmas together, as we have for the past 6 years. My heart has been overflowing with emotion since Saturday. These girls are my angels. My heart. They are my home and they mean the absolute world to me. Seeing this special this morning on tv has left me smiling since, knowing, for certain, that this will be us in 35 years.

I feel very lucky this holiday season to be surrounded by amazing friends and family. To those that I love that are far away (B, S, Dad), I hope that you are enjoying the holiday surrounded by friends and family. To everyone else, I wish you all a happy season, spent with those that mean the most to you.

6 in 1 day.... fish, the trilogy.

Dear B,
I'm so sorry. I was doing all the right things. Cleaning it when I should, feeding them the right amount, not leaving the light on all day (I learned that the hard way), changing the filter regularly. They were doing so good! All swimming around, playing with the little shot glass I put in there for a cute effect... they seemed happy in their new home. All was good in their new spot.

Unit it wasn't.

Until yesterday. And I swear, if I hadn't missed your call this weekend when you called me, from France (idiot, how could I miss the call?!, I miss YOU), then I would have assured you all was well, given you the update on your favorite fish, Blacky, telling you how they were thriving in their aquatic playground.

And they so were! Until yesterday. That's when it all started I guess. One died. Shit, and you know how I hate the actual scoop out and flush bit. So it was okay, I was okay... one out of the whole crew, and it had been sooo long since any prior casualities! But then today. Oh my God, today. I wake up, and one more is dead! NO! I tell T, and she goes to get it out, and there is ANOTHER dead. That's two so far. I get home from work tonight, go to check on the little guys... two more, gone! Are you freaking kidding me? I change the filter. I feed them, have a little talk with them. They seem okay? I come to do some work on the computer for a couple hours... turn around, and no freaking way, are you serious? Two more.... dead!

B, that's 7, in less than 24 hours! What the hell is going on? We're doing all the right things; what is wrong with them? With my caregiving?! They've been doing so well... and now this?!

I am so sorry.

And I'm sorry I missed your call. I missed your call, and I miss you. How is France? We haven't gotten one of your group email updates in a while. I miss our talks. I miss your singing, our singing, to Oasis or Simon and Garfunkel in your Buick. I miss our lunches and your stories. The smile you always bring to my face. I miss your smile. And as you once said, "I miss the bull shitting"... the sitting on your couch, literally, bull shitting about our days, our qualms, what the hell she's wearing on tv, what to text him back, where to go out for drinks.

I hope you're doing well. I'm sorry about your fishies. Blacky is still okay though, I swear.

Talk to you soon,
M