nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky

There are those certain times, that while you're living them, you just know you want to make a conscious effort to tuck away a part of that memory, that moment. Etch it into your mind, your heart. The way she smiled during that conversation, the sweetness of that kiss outside in the rain, the way it felt to finally say what you wanted to say to him. There are those specific moments, snippits of time, that you can just feel it. Feel the need to really embrace it and be there with it, take it all in as much as you can. Because before you know it, the moment will be gone. You know right then and there that you need to make a yourself remember it. And then you find, that not only have you remembered the moment, but you have the details. The color of the place mat at her kitchen table and how the seat cushion was starting to fray just a spec. The way the rain was starting to trickle down the driveway and form a puddle by your feet. What you were wearing when you told him that you needed a little space that cool day in March.

There are other times, when perhaps you weren't thinking that this is one of these times, those things that you should for sure, tuck away, keep close, to remember down the road. Sometimes they're sneaky, these memories. You'll be sitting in your bed at night listening to Rachel Yamagata, and find yourself remembering the way his hand fit in yours. How he tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek.

Time goes by, life happens. Before you know it you're sitting on the couch at 11:30pm on a weeknight, drinking beers with good friends, rehashing the remember-when's of a couple years ago. The time that you're apartment had a flood and you all stayed in a hotel for the night. When relationships were new and your best friend couldn't eat (and let's be frank, neither could you, by association) because she had that "I'm gonna shit" feeling that you get when a new guy is in the picture.

As we grow older, and life changes happen, we realize that what is, right now, might not be, in a month. Or a year. Being able to sit around and shoot the shit with good friends, drinking beers with no reserve, with no big obligations other than feeding a new kitty can sometimes be taken for granted. If you let them.

When you sit back and think of the times, perhaps a year ago, maybe five years ago or more, when things were so different than they are now, it helps to put things in perspective. Because when you're say, ten, and you want to go play outside on the swings with your best friend across the street, and you misplace a jelly shoe, that is the biggest thing in your life. That's big happenings and thinking about it now makes you realize that you had it so easy then.

Which makes you think about the present. The way things are, right now. And how quickly things can, and do change. Because five years from now, you and your best friends probably won't have the luxury to just meetup over American Idol and margaritas. People will marry, and move, and make babies. Some of you already have. It makes you grateful and appreciative for what is, right now, this instant. The small moments that pass between friends and loved ones. Soft touches and glances across the room. Shopping at Target for three hours on a Tuesday night.

Realizing that things won't always be this way, and could very possibly change at any moment, makes you just that much more appreciative of it right as it's happening. Right now.

sneaking in

We fought. Argued. So often. We'd bicker, and I hated it. Especially before bed. You didn't want to talk about the fight the next morning. I did. I wanted answers. Why did we keep doing this? Mustn't this be a sign? You said that all couples fought. And I refused to believe that. You said I overreacted, calling me selfish for wanting to talk about it because you said you were done with the conversation. And "how could I" not accept that. I told you I wasn't being selfish. That I just wanted a plan. To work on, or towards. To make this get better. Not knowing for sure if it really ever could, get better.

I was sad. Upset. And discouraged. Thinking, wondering, is this as good as it gets? This? This is what it's like? And I began to think maybe I was overreacting. I began to cherish the good, lived for the good of it all, of us. Those few and far between good times, amidst all of the turmoil. I would apologize, over and over, for making you upset. Actually believing that it was my fault.

You said you never felt this strongly for someone before. Couldn't picture life without me. You, we, we pictured a family together. Marriage and a house and children and a puppy.

We would have our happy times. Takeout on the floor over candlelight. Ice skating hand in hand on a cold winter day. Then, inevitably, it would go back. Back to bad. To yelling and drinking and tears in the bathroom, or over chai tea at a Starbucks with a girlfriend down the road on a bad night.

Using all of the emotional strength I could muster up, I tried. Over and over to make it all work. Make it better. Make us better. Tried, with all I could, to make us the happy couple that I hoped we could be. I wanted so badly for us to just be happy together. I thought I could do that could be us.

It didn't work. After a while, it all ended up being much, much more actual work, to make us work, than it was worth. I loved you with everything I had, and pulled the hardest move I've ever had to make when I told you I couldn't do it anymore. When I said goodbye.

It's been a long time since all of that. I don't think about you as often as I once did. But I still do sometimes. And it's sneaky. It sneaks up on a warm sunny Sunday afternoon in the summertime. When I'm not doing anything we ever did together, I'll think of you then. And it will throw me for a loop. We never had a summer. I'll be on a bike ride, or eating homemade salsa at a friend's house, and you'll be there. Not physically, but you're there. And it will hit me like a ton of freaking bricks. It creeps in. You, creep in. You end up in my thoughts, just like that, and sometimes in my dreams. Into my mind at a random moment.

And maybe there are some triggers, who knows. Seeing your friend, who is dating my friend. Me, meeting a new guy. Hearing a song on the radio that reminds me of you, of us. But sometimes, there you are, again, all of a sudden. With no rhyme or reason to it all, you're back. And I don't even see it coming. The bag and box of you and your things, your reminders, the notes and cards, our pictures and your boxers, they're all stowed away. Gone are the physical reminders of you.

But those emotional reminders, those damn emotional reminders, that have a way of getting in, unexpectedly, they go, and they stick right to my heart. And then I feel it, and I feel you, like a little twinge from time to time. A reminder maybe. Of a time when. What once was. What is so different now, today. Of where I've been and where I've come.

You're still there. Here. Sometimes more than others. Often it's nothing. Sometimes it's really intense, pulling, abruptly at my heart.


I miss you sometimes, and I don't really want to anymore.

family time

The weekend away was wonderful. At the beginning of the week we had been hearing nice weather, later we heard rain. So I didn't bring my bike. Turns out I should have. The weather was gorgeous. Really, it couldn't have been more perfect. Mid 70's, sunny, not humid, not until today when we were leaving.

We all met at the Maine Diner on Friday afternoon for lunch. I rode up with my mom and stepdad, and we met my grandparents and aunt, and other aunt and her girlfriend for mostly fishy stuff, which is all good because it's Maine, and I'm starting to seafood now. A spec at least. Haddock here and there, crab cakes sometimes, and if I'm feeling frisky, scallops! So lunch was good, a really nice start to the weekend. My grandmother was wearing her little scarf which actually has real looking bangs attached. Which is just so cute, and and sweet, and a little bit sad too. And she just looked absolutely adorable as did my precious grandfather sporting his new shoes which ended up keeping him up with foot cramps later that night.

Our hotel was just fabulous. Views to die for, with the ocean just feet away (pictures to come!). I was in a suite with my aunt, with a porch that overlooked the water, right on the marina with boats docked right there. We each had our own room and bathroom, we could hear the ocean from the living room, it was just amazing. The massage that we all got treated to on Saturday was wonderful. Especially after taking two runs that morning. Runs that led right to the beach, and you can imagine how much I enjoyed that whole scene.

This morning was really nice as things wrapped up with a family breakfast for Father's Day. In light of some family illnesses lately, my grandmother's recent diagnosis, and just the more obvious fragileness of life itself as of late, it was just very very nice to get away and have some quality time with my loved ones. I feel so blessed to have the amazing family that I do. And now I need to stop lest the tears start up.

The weekend was just perfect. Only thing that would have made it better would have been if I got to see my father today. I called him today, far off in Reno. Although it's a great place to visit and travel to, and I love every second of my time there with him, sometimes I just wish he were still a car ride away, close enough to just see anytime, spur of the moment. I would have loved to have swung by and picked him up for lunch and a movie today like we used to do. We will just have to take a raincheck for September when I'm going out to see him again.

Hope everyone has had a great weekend, and Happy Father's Day to all of you too.

peace by way of water

I'm thinking maybe it has something to do with the fact that for a good solid fifteen years of my youth, into college, I was frequently in, or around water. As a kid, we'd vacation and Fourth of July (yup, I verbed that), in Maine. I'd spend sweltering, sunburned days by the beach, and love every second of it. Soon after, it was more pool oriented. Taking, and then teaching swim lessons at the local Y. I was in lifeguard training at fifteen years old (when me and Resusa-Andy became so tight). During, and after that time, it was daily swim practices and swim meets, and life guarding at the Swim and Tennis Club. Yup, the one where the unfortunate glass incident went down.

So for really as long as I can remember, water- be it the salty ocean, a chlorinated pool, or a bubble filled tub, has brought me comfort. A certain tough to put my finger on, type of peace.

Swimming for two hours every day, brought me a kind of escape. A time, although often spent with a team, was also in many ways so individual too. It was a time where time, life, actually stopped for me. Was kind of put on hold, while I would swim my worries and stress and whatever else away. It was two hours of freedom. Just to be in the water brought on a feeling of relaxation and ease.

So, not being a "swimmer" anymore, or a competitive one at least, I miss it. The water, and its effect on me. Sometimes, when I just need a break from life and daily stuff, heavier things and sometimes not, I take a drive to the nearest place with water that I can get to.

A year and a half ago when a boyfriend of the time sent me the song "Goodbye My Lover" while I was at work, and told me that my "thank you" to the flowers he sent me was bullshit, I escaped. Left work at lunch, drove to a park, and sat on a bench in front of the water and cried. Afterwards I felt better.

In Myrtle Beach a little bit ago, I left my group of friends to take a walk on the beach, alone, for an hour. I brought along my ipod and headed off in no direction really, with my feet in the sand and salty water, and just went. It was a time where I could just be. Afterwards I felt refreshed. Rejuvenated and at peace.

Today during my lunch hour, I came to the river where I'll be swimming for the triathlon in a month. I walked by the Boulevard, found a quiet spot under a tree, and sat next to four ducks, and wrote in my journal. Afterwards I felt more relaxed, more balanced.

And this weekend, I'll be taking a family trip, eight of us, to a beautiful scenic place by the sea. Between family breakfasts, Father's Day activities, cocktails (because there will be some of that), I plan to take some time on my own. Away, by the ocean. A chance to gain some clarity and balance, some perspective and direction on things. Because that's what I do. I know that when I get feeling anxious or nervous, flustered and off balance, what I really need is some quality time around or in water.
Or with my mom, which will also be a bonus this weekend.

just different.

As you may or may not know, I'm a girl who loves purses. Bags. All shapes and sizes, different colors for different ensembles. For all occasions. I'm all over it. I probably buy purses just about as often, if not sometimes more! (depending on the season), than shoes. Believe that!

There's always been something about a woman sifting through her purse that I have found I think, intriguing. Interesting. I have to watch it; if it's happening in front of me, I find I can't look away. What are they skrinkering around in there for? What will they come up with? My earliest memories of my infatuation with purse obsession go back to when I was a kid, sitting in church with my family or for school. I went to a Catholic grammar school up until 6th grade, uniforms! and knee socks all over the place. I remember going to church either during school, or on a weekend, and how excited I'd be for the collection time. Other than just for the good people watching in church, I would anxiously anticipate the collection because it meant for some good purse scenes going on, and that's what I loved.

I would watch as women, specifically I remember it being elderly women that I was really interested in, went through, shuffled around in the purse's inside hidden pockets. I was always so anxious to see what gem they might pull out in a quest to get to their money. A checkbook? Car keys? Red cakey lipstick? Maybe one of those rain, hair cap, things? You know the type, the ones that some older women wear when it's misty outside to cover up their just "set" hair? Anyway, this whole purse thing was a whole delight for me. It still is. It would offer me such a distraction. Make my imagination run wild wondering these women's stories. Take my mind away from another reading, or a song annoyingly sung by the choir, so out of tune. I loved this game.

Fittingly so, it's not surprising then, that almost 20 years later, I have this huge, strong, kind of freakish? affinity for purses and such. Having always been so interested in them, what you can fit in them, or hide, strategically, sneakily. This has been a long time thing for me. Admitting it is the first step, right?

*************************************

When I see my grandmother go through her purse, it's a different, not-wanting-to-look-away kind of feeling that occurs. Like back then, back in the church days when I was addicted to the whole purse scene, but now, different. Different because it's so close to home. I know this purse. Who it belongs to. It's story. It's no longer about imagining what this and that are for, where she lives and who she wakes up to every morning. It's what I already know about it all. What I know about her. Her story.

It's not a checkbook out of a red leather purse this time. It's not a set of keys from an embroidered clutch. Now it's a CVS receipt for a long list of prescriptions out of a Vera Bradley handbag. A grocery list to give to her daughter, since she's been a bit too weak lately to make it to the food store all on her own. It's several 'get well,' and 'thinking of you' cards that she's collected from the mailbox. Or a pretty scarf to wear on her head now that she's lost her hair.

It's a totally different set of items now. A completely different experience. Now, a not so fun at all type of feel to it all. This woman is no longer a stranger with no defined story, with a blank slate to life, with a story I can make up in my own mind and run with. It's a purse that represents so much more than just a silly handbag. It's a story, a life, of someone that I know and love.



It's a different feel now, this whole purse thing.

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.

I Am From

I am from Maine, and am often called a maniac
I am from two parents who think I'm pretty damn special (read: an only child)
I am from the 80's
I am from a full kitchen, clean clothes, and a warm bed
I'm from big hair, stone washed jeans, scrunchies, leg warmers, and snap bracelets
I am from family cookouts, Irish bread, American Chop Suey and boiled dinners
I am from a cottage at the beach
I'm from Fourth of July cookouts, and shopping at Trading Posts
I am from the Friday Night Lineup/TGIF of Full House, Family Matters, Boy Meets World, and Step by Step
I am from carefree summers, life guarding by a pool
I am from four grandparents, all still alive today
I am from the school of thought that kids should eat their veggies and drink milk with dinner
I am from please and thank you
I'm from a swing set in the backyard, not the fancy kind, and my childhood bike that was stolen
I am from tea and Manhattans
I am from games of Go Fish, Solitaire, War, and Poker
I'm from The Price is Right, Wheel of Fortune, and Jeopardy
I am from uniforms until grade six, nuns too
I am from baking, and Christmas carols
I am from an Irish family, compassion for others, and corn beef
I am from setting the table, sharing, and a canopy bed
I'm from any excuse to celebrate, birthday parties for pets, and leaf raking parties included
I am from skin that freckles within five minutes of sun exposure, and burns hell of a lot too
I am from permed hair, and overly hair sprayed bangs
I'm from biting my lips, eating when stressed, and hiding m&m's in my pockets
I am from a long line of worriers, and I'm pretty bad
I am from a Catholic college, and beer pong in the quad
I am from my mother, my best friend, who I tell everything
I'm from my dad who I share the same hands and feet with, whose little girl I will always be
I am from homemade apple pies, make-your-own Sundays, and homemade chocolate chip cookies, from scratch
I'm from a childhood that's had more ups than downs, more good times than bad, more laughs than tears, that's made me who I am today.

What I Remember

To me it seems like a lot of my childhood is a division of two parts. Pre and post divorce. My parents' that is. My memories from my youth are all very happy. Surrounded by a wonderful family, supportive parents, great childhood friends, and grandparents that spoiled me. To say that I had a great childhood would be an enormous understatement.

Although my parents divorced when I was six, I don't hold one single bad memory of their marriage. I don't hold any memories of it. Their marriage. At all. I cannot remember a time when the three of us were together, when they were actually married.

I don't remember anything, pre divorce. I remember the house we lived in, the three of us, and my friend who lived next door with a pool. I remember my childhood bedroom, and the cardboard ice cream stand that i would play in every day. I remember this little camera that I had that I thought was the coolest thing in the world. I remember what the house looked like, the rooms and a lot of how they were decorated.
But if you ask me to tell you my first memory of my family, together, the three of us, them married, us a traditional family, I could not do it. And that sometimes makes me sad.

Post divorce, many memories are very vivid. I remember my mom living with my grandparents shortly after it happened. I remember her and I sharing a bedroom, each of us in twin beds. I remember my dad moving to a new house. Wednesday nights with him, early Thursday mornings driving back to my mother's. Weeks shared, divided, back and forth, to each house. Car rides with my dad, to my mom's. Friday and Saturday nights at my dad's, driving to my mom's at 12pm on the dot each Sunday. Shared holidays. Christmas Eve's at my dad's, late Christmas morning going to my mom's. Thanksgiving one year at my mom's, the next with my dad.

I remember specific times with each parent, post divorce. I remember one Easter, taking a walk with my mom. I was in new patent leather shoes and an Easter hat. She was in a dress; I'm pretty sure. I remember that day, in my grandparent's neighborhood. I can feel the spring weather on my skin right now, the breeze in my hair. I can smell the grass, and see the pavement with the many cracks that I tried to avoid. I remember taking that walk together, my mom and I, before it was time to go to my dad's for the remainder of the holiday. All of this is so very vivid.

With my dad, I remember a specific time of us driving in the car, and O was upset, at something. Probably something silly and little, but that seemed like the hugest deal to the ten year old me. Life is a Highway was my favorite song at the time, and I remember that song coming on the radio and my dad trying to cheer me up, raising the volume and saying, "it's your favorite song!" I remember being angry. Not caring, or eat least trying to seem like I didn't. And getting teary. I remember trying to not enjoy the song because I was trying to appear angry with him, but wanting to sing anyway.

The pre divorce years, and how I cannot remember them, makes me sad when I really think about it. I try and try to just remember, just a spec of an ounce of something with the three of us, pre divorce. Us three at dinner, a holiday together, a car ride. Try as I might, I just can't seem to get a visual. I can totally imagine, conjure up an image in my mind of what it must have been like. But the real thing, I just can't place it. Freudians would eat this up. Analyze how I must have had some awful childhood, that I'm trying to repress something. That my id, ego, and superego are working to help me rationalize something. Protect me.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. It was never bad. Not at all, in any way. I don't remember any fighting, no yelling, no arguments. I don't remember any tears, no bad times at all. I don't remember much of anything. Pre divorce.

Post divorce I remember so much. The smell in my dad's new house. My mom's new apartment after she moved out of her parent's house. How when I was younger, right after the divorce, my dad would lay out an outfit for me on a Thursday morning. socks, underwear, pants, and a shirt. I'd put these clothes on, eat some breakfast, and we'd go to my mom's. I remember getting there, and finding an outfit. Laid out. On my bed, for me. From my mom. The same thing. Socks. Underwear. Pants. And a shirt.

I remember wearing two pairs of underwear to school because I felt guilty not. To choose just one pair, would be to pick between my dad and mom. And how could I possibly choose, between the two? I couldn't. I wouldn't and I didn't.

Soon after, i didn't have to. I imagine I must have told my mom one time about how I did this, the underwear thing. And I imagine she must have had a talk with my dad, because thereafter, the double outfit thing was no longer an issue. I will always remember this. My mom and I joke about it to this day, yet thinking about it sometimes makes me sad. Of me as a little girl, not wanting to choose.

I still don't want to choose. Now I don't have to. I am an adult now. My father lives on the West Coast, my mom here in the same state as me. Holidays are no longer split between two parents. No more running around, back and forth, car rides to and from their houses on the same day. No more choosing who I will stay with for Christmas Eve. No more leaving a holiday dinner early to go to the other families house. I am who I am today because of my childhood. I don't look back with any regrets. I had a great childhood, and if the tone of this seems melancholy that's not all it should be. I feel sad for the memories that I cannot produce, but I feel utterly filled with appreciation for the ones I have. I would not change a thing of my childhood if I could. I have an amazing relationship with both of my parents, which I believe is somewhat directly related to the individual time I was afforded with both of them given the circumstances.

I have a picture in a safe place. It's of my mom and my dad on their wedding day. I am wearing a diamond necklace today. It was given to me by my mom two Christmas' ago. It is a gorgeous piece of jewelry. But it's so much more than just that. The necklace was made from the diamond that my father gave to my mother when he proposed to her. Her engagement ring. Something that they shared, just the two of them, is now mine. This is one of the most treasured things I own. So special to me and so meaningful. a little piece of both of them that I can always carry around with me.

how come?

I hate these reminders of you. There's so many freaking reminders. You know, for the longest time, I felt good that I was in a new place. A new apartment, somewhere you'd never been in, we'd never been us in. There was never an us here. No shared moments in the kitchen, cooking a meal together. Nothing shared on the couch in this place, my head in your lap as we watched a movie together. We shared my bed, but not in this new place. No shared bed memories here.

And so for a while, the no shared moments, together, here, that was all good. With the newness, there was no you, no us. I didn't have to worry about looking outside at my driveway and remembering us kissing there. Didn't have to see the upstairs shower and remember what we did there.

So the newness, it was all pretty good. Because it didn't evoke memories of you. But then, the newness, the fucking newness, reminded that it was lacking you. Devoid of you. Never once was there a memory here of us together.

And sometimes it's everywhere. Sometimes you are still everywhere. You are in the way that my body falls asleep at night. The way I still bring a glass of water to bed. It's in the way that I leave the door ajar in the bathroom while brushing my teeth. It's in the way I put my hand on the passenger seat of the car.

I used to do all of these things, in the anticipation of you being there. The bed. The water for you. Expecting you to join me to brush our teeth together. Me putting my hand on your leg when I drove us somewhere.

The thing is, you're not here. You never were. Which makes it so weird, for me to still be doing these things, as if you were. As if it's going to ever be this way again. Why still, all these memories? Why still, can I feel your presence here, when you were never here to begin with? How can you miss something that you never had?

Why must you keep turning up all over the place? In places you don't belong. That you weren't ever before?

Go away. Please?

speechless, at the right time

I remember when you first told me you loved me. We were in your car, we had just gotten back to your house and we both had our seats back. Some song was playing, I can't remember what. We were holding hands. As I leaned over to kiss you, hug you, touch your face, I remember us laughing that the damn e brake got in the way. It was quiet for a minute, and that's when it happened. You had me in your arms and you said it. That you were in love with me.

How long is too long, to sit with the silence, before it seems awkward that one hasn't responded to a first "I love you?" Ten seconds? Thirty? It wasn't as if I didn't hear you. I did, you knew that as I looked up at you and kissed you, squeezed you tighter, breathed you into me more.

I did feel it then, but too many seconds had passed and I felt like the moment had gone. Too late to say it. It slipped into the heater vents as I deeply exhaled it out. But no words came. I could have said it. At any time, really. When we went back inside and cozied up on the couch with each other and a movie; I could have said it then, I just didn't. Not because I didn't feel it. I did. I let the moment pass me by. That moment, when I should have said it, was gone.

But then? As I'm writing this now, I feel like that was a cop out. I must have not said it fora good reason. I also think, when you love someone, you should tell them, right then, right there, in the moment. Given the moment is appropriate and all. No amount of seconds or minutes or hours that pass should equal the time frame of a missed chance. I felt it, but I just didn't say it. I don't know if what I'm feeling is described as regret.

I remember though, feeling it, earlier that weekend. We were at the mall and I had dragged you into girly accessory stores, and you didn't complain, not a bit. At least not that I remember now. You were adorable the way you were, with me, that day. I just wanted to eat you up. I remember it was crowded and after a while, we both just needed out of the place. We couldn't find we where parked, looked on every floor, not remembering where we had been just a couple hours earlier. This made us laugh. We said "screw it" and decided to go get something to eat and have some beers and figure it all out after. And we did, and I remember our way of walking to the car, finally finding it, me giggling, tipsy and warmer from the alcohol. It was cold that day and you took my hand and we headed for no direction really, to look for your car, somewhere. I remember, then, at that moment, was when I started to feel it. It was at that moment. It came over me in a huge wave and I remember thinking, God, I am in love this guy. I hadn't felt that, well, ever. Not like that, so sure of it. Not before you.

When we finally found the car, there was traffic, tons of it, getting out of the garage. And I was flustered and hot. And some song, I don't remember what now, was on the radio. I remember us turning it up, and we blasted that sucker. You opened the windows, all of them including the sunroof, and we blared that rap shit, and I wore your hat. We were both laughing, hysterically really. It was at that moment, that I wanted to say it. Scream it. Over the music I wanted to scream out, "I love you!!" And I didn't. Although the timing seemed so right, something held me back.

And something held me back that night in the car. In one instance the timing didn't feel totally right, the other couldn't have been more perfect. In neither situation did I have the nerve to say it.

All along though, I felt it. Maybe I should have said it, in those times. For the first time, then, that night back to you, or the next day to you, first. I didn't.

And I don't really know what all this means. I know what I feel; I just couldn't seem to get it out.

weekend in review

Oh, my weekend. Ruby reminded me that an update was due. Well I had just the most wonderful time ever. My Almost Sister and her hubby are two of the greatest people in the world; if only we lived closer. Not that an hour flight is really that far at all. But for a girl who is so much on the same wavelength as myself, who at the drop of a hat would do anything for anyone, with whom I am constantly laughing with, and really, how we just get each other, who makes me constantly smile... well, it would be nice if she lived say, an hour DRIVE away. It is a great trip to make though- quick and easy to get to, and always worth it.

Friday Almost Sister and I did some shopping and saw Music and Lyrics. I really like Drew Barrymore. I forget that every time, until I see her in a movie where I am reminded of it. And Hugh Grant. I'm not my mom, who has a HUGE thing for him, but the guy does have an accent, a good body, and isn't bad looking, at all. I enjoyed him in this movie. Saturday we picked up Almost Sister's brother. He came in to spend the night and we got on the same flight for the next day. Anyway, the rest of the weekend was spent drinking lots of Sangria (homemade even), and eating, lots of eating, and laughing.

Now I'm not a big meat eater. Not at all. I pretty much stick to chicken as a staple. Now and then I'll make some meatballs, oh and I love tacos. Infrequently I'll eat an occasional burger. That's mainly only enjoyed on a trip to Reno at this place that has the best burgers ever. And I'm not a big steak eater. I love it, when I have it. But I don't order it. Or make it. Steak tips I love, but other than here, which is probably the last place I had them, I seldom eat tips. Well that all changed this weekend. I ate, more meat than I have ever eaten in a sitting, ever. We went to this really great Brazilian place. It's a set price for the meal, pricey, but sooo so worth it. You put these coaster type things, with one side that's red, and one green in front of you. Green means keep the meat coming. Red= you need a break. They come around to the table with the hunks of meat ("hunk of meat" doesn't make it sound all that very appetizing but it SO is), and they cut it right there in front of you. And it's so fresh. And juicy. And altogether delish. For someone who hardly ever eats meat, I was in total heaven. Mmmm....

And the weekend just goes by so quickly when I'm visiting them. I was there three days and it was over before I knew it. I was hoping to meet up with Kristen while I was there, but the time just got away from us. I had a wonderful time though, surrounded by wonderful friends, with new, wonderful memories.

questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart

there were times when i clearly remember thinking that i would never ever be the same without you. and that scared me. i didnt want to be me, without you. there were days that i would walk around in a bit of a fog, because of nights spent kept awake reaching for your body that was no longer there, searching for your lingering smell on my pillow that was now gone. weekends we once spent together, were now filled with coffee shops, girlfriends, cocktails, and many tears. the journal that i started when i first felt the pangs of uncertainty about us, was being scribbled in on a daily basis now. to read it now would show a script of a very tumultuous time.

months went by and things did seem to get a little better. then a slip up. a picture would fall from the pile on my nightstand. looking through email archives id find the lyrics to love songs you used to send me. and for the next several days, it was rough. tears again, and fears. fear that, shit, no way, really? again? im going backwards? and i thought i was doing so good. ive been here before but it was months ago. why am i back here? this pattern would happen. things would be okay, then another damn slip up. and then the tears. and fears. and questioning.

then more time would go by. and weeks turned into months with no real missing you pangs. well not that brought full on tears anymore at least. i still missed you. id be kidding you if i said it was a quick and easy thing, to get over you. over us. it wasnt. it still isnt.

i dont think about you too much anymore. and when i do, at first its your smell and your arms that i miss, or your hands. then its your yelling and anger that i dont miss, and your meanness.

and i realize how far i have come.

i used to not be able to imagine me, without you. i used to not want to be me, without you. now, almost a year later, i cant imagine me with you. i cant imagine someone like me, who i have become, who i have changed into, being with someone like you.

and that's progress.

I got lost in the sounds I hear in my mind

It's been almost a year since you and him broke up. Since the last straw, the final end. You made that end decision quickly, at least that's what it seemed like. You came home that day, walked in and sat on the couch, with tears coming down your face. You didn't need to say the words, I just knew. You told me that you couldn't do it anymore. You were crying, and I put my arms around you, and you put your head on my shoulder. I didn't know what to say. I knew, with my whole heart that you had made the right decision, but I could see the pain that you felt. I could feel it on you, on me while I held you. I just wanted to take all of that pain away, make it be all over. I couldn't do it.

You tried to smile and said that you thought you had made the right decision. You talked about how hard it was, to tell him that it was over. You had been through so much in just these past several months. You said it felt like a lifetime.

A few months later, you would tell me how you still thought of him. How it was the hardest decision you ever had to make, to leave him. That you left him, still in love. You would tell me how you still thought of him, all of the time. Still felt him there with you in the middle of the night. Craved his touch, his smell. How things didn't seem to be getting any better. Not at all. You asked me if I thought you would ever be able to fully get over him. I told you that it would take some time, that I was always there for you. You apologized for feeling like a downer. For still talking about him, over beers and soft lighting, months later. You said you were embarrassed because you should be over him by now. But that you didn't know how to do it.

I remember that afternoon, in Barnes and Noble, when you told me you thought the guy drinking his coffee in the corner was attractive. And I felt so happy for you. You said it was the first time you felt something, for someone else. You actually got excited about this guy. When he asked for your number, you looked so pretty, graciously giving it to him, sweeping your long hair behind you ear.

At times like these, it began to seem like you were doing better. I told you this, how much happier you seemed now. After several martinis one night, we were in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs. Your eyes filled up. You confessed that you were trying with all of your heart to put up the strength that we all saw. You said how much you still missed him, how hard it still continued to be. You said your heart still ached.

I wanted so badly to make everything all better for you. I could feel your pain again, that night, and I remember how frustrated I was with myself because I didn't know how to make it all better for you. You hurting, it was so awful for me to see you go through. You didn't deserve it.

And here we are; it's been several months since the eggs and tears. It's been almost a year since the end and the couch that afternoon you came home and told me. You haven't dated much since then. You seem happier now. I check in now and then with you, to see how you're doing, about him. You say you don't think of him much anymore. But that you are getting nervous for the upcoming holiday, and the one after that. Most of us hope that part of your life is way in the past by now, that it doesn't cross your mind anymore. Because you seem interested in other people, other things. You don't mention anymore how that song reminds you of him, how your bed seems so big, how you miss his presence, and his hands. You always told me how you missed his hands.

What you went through was really shitty. But you have grown so much. You are a stronger person from what you went through. I know that you don't always see it. You brush it off. It's what you do. But I know you. And I know how much he meant to you. And it's okay to still think about him. It's okay to dream about him, and wonder. It's normal, and it's okay. He was your first true love.

It doesn't go away that easily.

walking on walking on broken glass

Just the week before, my best friend Drew had gone up on there to hang the weekly events calendar. And Drew wasn't scrawny. He was built; he had a swimmer's body, in very good shape, muscular. He was on the taller side, definitely an athletic build. And no one thought twice about him getting up on the glass display case. I guess it was actually viewed more as a table, for the love of God, I don't know why, but it was. And it was a weekly occurrence. Whoever was on desk duty the day it needed to be changed, would hop up on the glass case, and change the weekly calendar. It was never questioned. Never thought it might not be a good idea.

Until it wasn't. A good idea. Writing this right now, is giving me the feeling. My heart is pounding faster, I'm that girl who chomps her gum neurotically that I hate, and my palms are sweating. Aaron, you owe me one, big time.

It wasn't a big deal. I finished coloring in the smiling, sunglassed sun, scribbled in "open swim" for Friday afternoon, and proceeded to the case to hang up the events calendar. The case, was about waist high, maybe three or four feet long, and housed random swimming paraphernalia- goggles, bathing caps, water bottles, etc. I took off my flip flops, and quickly hopped up on the case. I'm on top of the glass case, kneeling. I had placed the poster sized calendar on the counter next to me, so I had to reach over for it. I shifted my weight, from both knees, to more on my left. I think I just had my left hand on top of the glass, supporting my left side at this point. And all of a sudden, it shattered. I crashed. Through the whole display case.

Glass.Everywhere.
And blood. All over.

Holy shit. You can imagine the noise this must have made. I honestly don't remember much of this after the falling part. I remember people rushing into the outdoor-like lobby. You can see the pool from the desk in the lobby, and the display case is/was in the corner. So people heard it, and they rushed in. It didn't even hurt. The cut was so deep, (stop reading now if you're skeeved out about blood and things of the like- I don't even know how I'm writing this) you could see the bone. Eww, the bone. At least that's what I've been told. I don't even remember what it looked like at the time. I just remember glass, and blood, everywhere.

I guess I thought it wasn't as bad as it was, because I started to get up, thinking it was just a minor cut. I was wrong. The ambulance showed up, and I remember that one person could ride in the back with me. I was 17 at the time, I think, and I had a good friend who was 16, also a lifeguard there. I wanted her to come with me, but my boss ended up insisting upon it. The boss that was always the biggest bitch and the last person there that day that I wanted in the back with me. And Drew wasn't even there. I wanted him there to hold my hand and tell me it would be okay.

I barely remember the ride there, but I remember getting to the hospital, and waiting. My mother was in a meeting and was unreachable, in Boston for the day. My father was at work, but luckily they got a hold of him. He called my mom, who was taken out of this big conference she was at, and they both came to the hospital. The rest is a little foggy. I had to get reconstructive surgery, because the cut was that bad. It was my muscle and everything- and it wasn't just stitchable. It needed full on surgery to reconstruct... my leg. Eww. To this day, glass really freaks me out. Glass and blood.
And poor Drew. He came into work later in the day for his shift, to find the swim club closed for business. And it was him who had to clean up the the glass, the bloody mess, my blood, that was now in the spot that once was the display cases home.

Wicked sucks. Gross. I have a big scar on my knee, and a small one on my left pinky. I guess it's a "cool" story, but not one I like to talk about too much, mainly because it just skeeves me out. But it is random, and kind of a "no way!" type of thing to bust out if the conversation is dull at a dinner party. Maybe I should have told Mr. Dinner Date that one.

Lesson learned: DO NOT kneel on glass display cases. Not safe.

the one I think I'm ready to write

***I have a few reservations about posting this. But I think it's time. And, after all the encouragement I got to my other day's acting up nerves, I say- fuck it, I'm ready for this.***

Even before I found out the news last week, I knew I needed to begin to create some distance. I didn't really want to do it, not talk as much, email as much, create that change in our relationship. But this has been going on for years. Years. This friendship, that we both know, is more than just "a friendship." There's always been a reason. You were involved with someone else, I was dating someone, I was getting over a bad relationship, you were getting over your serious thing with her. You live across the country. We see each other maybe five times a year. Always something, something that kept us apart. That never gave us the real opportunity to give the us that we had in mind a try. At least not a try beyond the constant time we'd spend together when we were both in the same city. And it was that time that we spent together, that I've been hanging on to, for years. Years.

Throughout the years, I've had other relationships, we both have. I have always put you on a pedestal. It felt good having you there. Comparing every single guy I meet, to you. No one really measured up. I have had this idealistic picture of you, or us, in my mind. For years. It wasn't the relationship that you and I once had or anything, that I was comparing to. We never have had a real anything other than this thing. It has been the idea in my head. Of what you could be to me, what we could be to each other, what we could be together, . But I never really knew. And I have based years, on the idea of what could be, an unknown potential.

And I know, as well as you, our friends, and our families, that it isn't just me that's doing this based on nothing. It's your way with me. It's our way together. The way you also compare other girls to me. The way we are when we're together, how carefree it is, how much fun we have, the chemistry we share. I began to wonder though, is what I've been hanging on to, more the idea of what could be, based actually on nothing really concrete, rather than any hard core evidence? Who's to say we would even be a right thing together? I have thought we could be good together, I have hoped we could be good together. I've prayed it and cried for it. Literally dreamt of it, wrote about it, therapied about it. But neither of us never really know. The what if thing? It can be fun, but after a while? It's no longer a game.

That was all okay, for so long, it was just what worked. What came naturally for the two of us. I look back now, and I realize, we were in a non-relationship relationship. I don't even know what we were. But it was all okay. It was fine, it worked. Until it wasn't. Until it didn't anymore. It doesn't now.

You are with someone new. Your first serious relationship. And I knew this, over the past couple of months. I knew because you did the comparison thing again. I felt sad because I felt I was getting mixed messages, but I was sending them too. I wasn't okay with hearing all about it. It wasn't easy to just go along and seem all okay with things. I was never completely okay with it, but what was my other choice? I think you've known all along how I feel about you. I have never been ambiguous about that. Everyone knew. It's out there. It just is. It radiates when we're together. It hasn't gone unnoticed. It's impossible.

So things have changed. Even before I found out the seriousness of you and her relationship, I knew I needed to make a shift. Some distance. Less refreshing my inbox for an email, less time spent thinking about a phone call here and very seldom there. More time focusing on me, and moving on. Because the way it is, the way it had been, for so many reasons it felt so very right. But it has had a hold of me for so long, I didn't think I would know myself without it. I think I was scared to actually make the break from it.

The change, the shift in our relationship, well it was something I was going to do no matter what. The time came, that I just needed to do it. I felt so torn, sad to do it, but happy about the possibility of letting the burden go a little. Finding out that you and her are even more serious than you had let on, hearing that from other people and not yet from you, well that was the push I needed. As hard as it was, and as upset and devastated that I was about it all, it was what needed to happen. Unfortunately it's a forced distance, but it's there none the less, and it's needed to happen.

I will never regret the strong hold this has all had on me. I think you are a wonderful, extraordinary person with amazing qualities, and I know that you will make someone very happy. I want you to be happy. You mean so much to me. For now, I need to make myself happy. Happy with myself. It's time. Things change, relationships change, people move on, they move forward, and sometimes backwards, and they grow. I will never for a minute, regret any of this, of all of that, of our time and our non-relationship relationship or whatever it had been. It, you, will always hold a special place in my heart. The shift now will be interesting to see pan out. How we will go from what we were to something different. We've always been us as we know, as our friends and family know. I'm not saying I'm not a little nervous. But it feels... well, it feels different than I thought it would. I feel okay. I'm more okay than I thought I'd be. I know that things change, and that change isn't a bad thing. And for us, it was time. I'm ready, for the love of sweet baby J, I'm ready.

the only thing that stays the same is change

I have a tendency of looking at moments in time, by comparing them to what I was doing, around that time the previous year. Or sometimes it's the previous week, but mostly, it's a reflection of what once was, a year ago in time.

One year ago today, I was living in a different place, with three other people, my best friends. Now, we have since moved apart; we still remain close, now only two of us co-habitate together. Instead of splitting bills and groceries among four of us, we now do for two. Instead of having three best friends at the distance of a hallway, it's now by distance of a phone call, a T ride, or a 3 hour drive. That living situation is one of the happiest memories in my heart. It's not "better" now that we're not all together; every day I miss it. It's different, but a lot of good has come of it too.

Last year at this time I was not single. I was in a relationship that was more serious than it should have been for the time we had been together. I was so involved, so emotionally invested, that I was using my energy on keeping a not so good thing going, because it seemed the right thing to do, rather than using my strength to begin to walk away. Saying goodbye was the right thing to do.

I'm pretty sure this time last year I had more money. Now rent is more, and I have more bills. The overdraft protection currently, although not present last year, is so worth the new things I have gained- which are not just limited to material possessions. So I am more than okay with this.

Last year I lacked the introspection that I have since gained. Today I know myself better than I ever have. I have learned new things about myself through the experiences, relationships, dramas and upsets, successes and disappointments, and change, over the past year.

I used to not like change. It made me feel nervous, and uncomfortable and anxious. Now I've learned, that with change, comes opportunity and growth. Now I don't so much fear it as I do look forward to it, and try to embrace it as much as possible when it happens. I learned to do this because I found I was finally ready to let myself be more open to it. I realized, that I had no other choice. You can resist change all you want, but it isn't going to just go away. I once read a quote: "the only thing that stays the same is change." This has stuck with me. Only I didn't really get it until fairly recently.

By saying goodbye to an unhealthy relationship, moving, experiencing new things, being more independent, being okay with being alone, I have been okay, and happy, with change. I still find it to sometimes be a bit overwhelming, and yeah, even scary at times. I now though, have the past year behind me which has shown me that change, it can be a really, really good thing. If only we are open to letting that change happen.

back to reality

It's time to get back to reality. I've been on a week-long binge of food, alcohol, best friends, lack of sleep, and fun. I can't believe it's all come to an end. And it's back to the grind- 5:30am it will be for the gym, three square meals a day instead of junk, water and milk, fruit and veggies, low key nights, Grey's Anatomy, emails and phonecalls instead of hugs and photo opportunities. Back to early bed times, early mornings, stressful days, statistics at work, walking at lunch, missing people, errands and grocery shopping. Laundry again, homecooked meals instead of restaurants, putting away christmas presents, taking down the tree, all back to normal. It's all over. Now, it's all just a wonderful memory.

Happy 2007. I hope the year brings everyone much love, happiness, and many, many wonderful memories to come.

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.

I'm a Carrie

I happen to be one of THE biggest fans of Sex and the City ever. I was so into the series when it was on, so into all of the characters and their lives and who each of them would be out of my friends. When I lived with D, T, and M, we would go out and say we were the girls from the show. We'd try and think of who was who. I've always been a Carrie. I have a Mr. Big. I loved every single episode of the show and watch the dvd's I own frequently, now with the commentary to hear more about the writing behind the characters and what went into it all.

And this past weekend, I had the most amazing Sex and the City experience ever! It was a 3 hour bus ride where I was in my absolute glory. I loved every moment of it. I just had to come here and write about this wonderfully amazing tour.

The ride started right outside Central Park. We got on the bus and the tour guide (Stephanie), had us look out the bus to our right, to where Carrie had said goodbye to Big before he went into his engagement party with Natasha. This is also where the scene was filmed where Miranda was in charge of the guest book at her friends wedding, and Charlotte wore that amazing bridesmaid's dress and slept with the best man during the reception. Also where, at the last scene of season six, Carrie walks down the street and gets the phone call from "John."

After each spot we saw, we were able to watch the scene on the little screens in the bus. So cool. The next stop was to that little random sex shop where Charlotte was introduced to the "rabbit." I loved that episode. We got to go into that location, into the sex store, where we got 15 minutes to shop around. From there we went by the church where Samantha met one of the only guys that she wasn't able to get- Friar Fuck. Remember him? He was that good looking priest that Samantha was into, and started to go to church for. From there we went to the Magnolia Bakery where Carrie and Miranda have eaten cupcakes outside of before. We all got a yummy freebie cupcake, and from there....oh my god... we went to Carrie's front steps. This was my favorite part of the whole tour.

Some other stops included that cool bar that Aiden and Steve owned where we all had a cosmo, the place where Carrie and the girls were trying all the different perfumes and she announced to them that she was "taking a lovah," Charlotte's art gallery, Samantha's apartment, and sooo many more.

There were tons of other stops, many little tidbits we learned, scenes we got to view, behind the scene info given to us. And I loved every minute of the whole thing. I'm such a SATC addict that I could go on and on and on about it all, because it was really, that good. So good. I just had to say something about it, because it's something I'm going to always remember. Man I miss that show.