Thanks to the Giving

My mom, dad and brother came to visit us in Cambridge for 10 days over this past week. It was super fun - adventures and laughs a plenty. We walked the Freedom Trail, went to some great restaurants, toured the U.S.S. Constitution (from which point my father referred to my brother as 'powder monkey', not to be outdone my 6'3" brother responded by calling my 5'11" father 'short stack'), visited Lexington/Concord & Plymouth, and of course ate a huge feast. Here are some pictures from our time together.

Me and the turkey named Tom. I will never understand why people insist on naming things they are about to eat. My mom was quite disappointed that when we went to put the turkey in the pan my kitchen was sans cooking string - as if I tie up birds and vegetables all the time. Without the proper string we combined our creative energy to come up with the chop-stick turkey. Notice my hair - dressing like food is so in this season.

In this picture my father is posing next to a stranger's truck like Nacho Libre. You should know that as this picture was being taken Dad was saying "these are my recreation pants, my robes were stinky".

Mikey and me in front of the USS Constitution in the Boston Harbor. My bro is really growing up, everyone should have a brother 9 years their junior. Highlight: sitting next Mike in the backseat while he tried to trap me with a blanket in his fart cloud which he assure me smelt like roses.
Mom and me in Plymouth. My mommie is so pretty. And she would be glad to know that while this was her first trip out east, I totally agree with her that she is from New England.

I love my family and miss them lots.

The Maui Misadventures Revealed

Enjoy this video best-friend-Holly took during one of our Maui misadventures last year in Hawaii. I was inspired by my parents recent foray into the blogworld giving pertinent information about their condo. For more information on Hawaiian Misadventures see: http://hollytopfive.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_hollytopfive_archive.html

Baptism of a Foodie

I have been sanctified & bathed in the 'holy water' of artisan cheeses and fine foreign wines. A few days ago I got a little mis-directed coming home from Newton, Mass and came upon a cheese and speciality grocery store four blocks from my house. I knew right away that I had to take my mother there once she was in town. Well, Mother and I were on our way to buy some thanksgiving dinner items from Trader Joe's when I suggested we stop over for a little morsel of cheese from this random cheese shop. One should know that this little stop became a 2 hour voyage into the recesses of cheesedom and back again. Mom and I drank deep with delight as we meandered among intoxicating ripening aromas. We sampled expensive wines paired with olives and goat/cow/sheep cheeses - we were told by an excentric middle-aged connesuire of all things formaggio that the wine and cheese-cows were raised on the same earth, making them partners from their conception... seriously!? With or without the kookie wine taster we raised our glass high to a particular pairing of a semi-soft french cheese with a chardonnay from the hills of Champagne that turned sweet on our palates. Little to say, for all of you who love cheese and love me (equally or with partiality) you MUST come to Cambridge and be swept up into the fray of Formaggio Kitchen (http://formaggio-kitchen.com/index.php). Happy cows may come from California, but happy cheese comes from Cambridge, Mass.


This day I lived out the most wise words of my father: If it's free, take two.


Erin.

Twisted Old Eucalyptus

Everyone, do yourselves a great favor and sample to buy the newest album Reprieve by the righteous babe herself: Ani DiFranco. I am particularly sad tonight because I missed her show in Boston this evening. However, I have her lyrics to keep me warm. She says things about humans, their lives and their rights. There are few singer/songwriters who speak with as much honesty as Ms. DiFranco. I think it behooves us to listen. She is poetic and beautiful and strong and pregnant... but more than anything she is real. Here is a taste of why I love her:


This is the cover of Reprieve. It is an artistic rendering of the picture below. This tree is special because it was photographed in Nagasaki days after the atomic bombing. To the photographer (Yamahata) and the many other viewers since 1945 the half-dead tree is symbolic for resilience and hope.


I have measured and found her wanting for nothing,
Erin

A Musical Recantation

In the last four years I would like to think that I have become a connoisseur of tasty music. Music is a tricky thing - it mingles the best and worst that pop culture has to offer. For instance, best = lyrical genius of Over the Rhine/Joni Mitchell, melodious stylings of Jason Mraz and prophetic kick-ass rock of U2, worst = most of Stacy Ferguson's solo jams, mind-numbing slam metal, and the production, consumption and representation of anything remotely connected to Popozao.

I love being a part of the musical elite. I think this is because I spent most of my young life being musically illiterate - I once traded by oh-so-hip-sister a Beatles album for a Debbie Gibson tape... ouch. It wasn't until late high school with the charisma of Bono and slurred jams of DMB that I awoke. Then it took years of listening and gentle guidance to become an elitist. Still, many years later I continue to owe most of my iTunes library to the great gifting of those music snobs, who taught my heart to palpitate upon the utterance of the phrase 'So, have you heard ____?' To keep up my musical education I even subscribe the to very witty and increasingly racy music magazine Blender. (Word to the Wise: do not, I repeat, DO NOT have your shady magazines forwarded to your husband's honest lovely innocent agrarian parent's home in California (see cover of Ms. Aguilera)... shame only scratches the surface of my experience when receiving this issue in Massachusetts with my father-in-law's handwritten address correction).

All that to say that today I must retract all previous claims to musical superiority.I am a fake, a fraud, a disgrace - I broke the cardinal rule of music connoisseurs - I self-reflected. And now all that is left is a shell of a previous musical elitist. I have realized the great folly at my assumptions to know better than the general listener. I have fallen, like many, into a common trap of the musically conscious: I have come to assume that things that are mass produced have been tainted by "the man", which renders them to be nothing less than an abomination to my ears. One such artist has become prey to my haughty and unconscionable preconceptions: Mr. Michael Buble. I assumed that his mommy demographic, Sinatra-wanna-be ways and bubble-sounding surname constituted a singer who's art was beneath me. Friends, I was wrong - he is a crooning delight. I wish I could pass my apologies along to Mr. Buble. My mockery of him while viewing his cameo on Brett and my favorite t.v. guilty pleasure Las Vegas lead me down a path that ended with the purchase of his Holiday Let It Snow EP. (understand that I recognize that the previous sentence was filled with many mock worthy confessions 1. I watch Las Vegas often and regularly, 2. Said NBC drama lead me to sample cameo stars' on iTunes, 3. I purchased a Holiday CD months before Christmas and intended to begin listening stat).

The Aesop message for other elitists is this: don't listen to me when I mock mainstream artists and do not fall victim of the same prejudiciary predisposition. Also, listen to Michael Buble when taking long baths, making out with boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife, enjoying yuletide cheer, and sucker-punching yourself for being close minded.


I plan to begin a new chapter in my musical education. I intend to be open and gracious and picky. To honestly and earnestly assess the notes and lyrics that pass my way, taking the indie-folk-rock with the buttery-glossy-pop - without unnecessary meanness or prejudice. I will listen until my eyes bleed, this I promise.

Sorry K-Fed - you're still out,
Erin

The Blog Returns

So, it's already the fall here in New England - and i'm a tool because my posting has consisted of nothing more than a lame midnight post on packing and a video flashback. But, sadly I have not much better today. A picture of us in the fall colors along the Minuteman Trail. I post this so y'all readers know that Brett and I are still alive and kickin'.
We went to Maine to see the colors and take a mini-break. It was beautiful, I highly suggest it.

That's all for now.
Will write again when I have something to say.

Erin

An Uncanny Resemblance

for all of you who missed my childhood: just replace her brown hair with white-blonde and you have Erin circa 1988! (sorry friends, this video has become unaccesable due to copyright infringement - you will have to take my word for it, I have found my childhood voice's doppelgänger)

Just Picture My East Coast Life

Note: I am not in the habit of making caveats for lack of humor, but this will NOT be funny - do not expect to laugh or cry or have experience any outlayers of the emotional bell curve. The blogging world has eaten a few of my blogs - so I now resist the urge to re-create something I have already spent time upon. However, I want you all to know the goodness of these past weeks in their pure picture form with minimal comment.

SEPTEMBER:




Apple picking in Western Mass with the DeJongs was so much fun - Cara and I even canned our own applesauce.


Brett is excited because he's about to fill the bag he's holding with 1/2 bushel of apples.









Best-friend JR and husband Cameron visited Boston. Pumpkin-Spice lattes, the Freedom Trail and best friends are more than a recipe for a good good time. We love the Jones’ & Freedom!









Went to Fenway Park with Harvard students & friend Matt DeJong! So fun! I am officially a fan of the Sox - including the Green Monster and Big Papi. I’ve been warned that if I get too close they’ll ‘break my haa’t” - I'm a little afraid.

OCTOBER:

New Harvard friends at a Cranberry Bog in Cape Cod - we love Agritourism!


We met with friend Dave in New York City where he lives and attends NYU law. We took this picture with magazines that were written in NYC or with NYC in mind. We assume that this proves that our location is New York, not let's say... Davis, CA.


I'm in a Book Club with ladies from the Boston area, organized by the great and illustrious Cara DeJong (pictured to my immediate left). It is so much fun! Last month we read The Other Boleyn Girl - - - daring and delcious. This month we're reading a memoir caled Miracle in the Andes - - - haven't read it yet, but everyone who isn't a big slacker like me is saying "omg, erin you have to read this book, it is changing my life, seriously!".... so I guess we all should read it (I haven't heard such lofty claims since Ms. Portman's review of the Shins) So, read... and read non-school literature (either assigned or themed) it's good for you and will make you more human, I promise.

Till we meet again,
Erin