the daily ramblings of a connecticut girl

Can I just "aw" myself?

2010-12-15T21:11:00.000-05:00

I ran outside today. It was 20 degrees. WICKED COLD. And yet I did it, anyway, and felt good about it. Also, I wrapped up a 3-month-long project at work, picked my sick daughter up from daycare, and took care of her by myself all night from nap to playtime to dinner to bath to snuggle time to bed. Sometimes I am actually willing to admit that I rock. Today is one of those times.

2010-12-14T19:46:00.000-05:00

When we were little, my brother and I used to go on day trips with my dad most weekends. My mom worked 3-11 so our Saturday afternoons were filled with museum visits, McDonald's trips, and drives to places like Hop Brook and Hamilton Park. Ryan and I would each grab one of Dad's thumbs and we would all walk hand-in-hand. I can still clearly remember the feeling of Dad's slightly rough, dry skin as I clenched his hand tightly. His thumb seemed so much larger than mine, which made me feel safe and secure. As long as I was holding Dad's hand, nothing bad could ever happen to me.

Now that I am older, I long for that same sense of security. I have witnessed so much sadness this past year: death...loss...heartache...vulnerability...and lives forever changed. I spend too much time thinking "what if" instead of being grateful for what I have. I wake up every morning and make sure that my husband and daughter are still breathing. I even check the cat. I know that sounds ridiculous, and it probably is to an extent, but I can't imagine life without any of them. And yet I have seen beautiful lives like ours ripped at the seams in an instant. I know that I can't count on everyone I love being here forever, but I want to do everything in my power to will them to be.

As my generation enters their 30s, we realize that our parents are in their 60s. Even if they live to their mid-80s or early 90s, that only gives us 20+ more years together...which means that we have already passed the halfway mark of all the time we have to spend with them. While a very obvious conclusion to draw, this thought saddens me.

Today is the one year anniversary of my uncle's senseless death. I have already written about him recently, so I am not going to into detail other than to say that I miss him so much. Yesterday was my birthday. Last night I found out from my mom that one of my brother's best friends lost his 28-year-old brother-in-law to an apparent heart attack. His wife (my brother's friend's sister) found him when she went home to pick him up to go pick out their Christmas tree. My heart just breaks for her.

I am sorry that this post isn't very uplifting, especially since we are so close to the holidays. I just had to get it off my chest. My thoughts are with everyone who lost someone this holiday season; especially Angela, Heather, Rose, and their families.

2010-12-05T21:05:00.001-05:00

I am totally exhausted. I don't know how stay-at-home moms do everything they do. Or single moms, for that matter. Today Ashlyn was a little on the cranky side (verging on a lot on the cranky side at various points during the day) and Jeff was downstairs creating a presentation for one of his classes. It was freezing cold outside so I didn't feel like leaving the house, which basically meant it was up to me to entertain my little girl for about 13 hours straight right here. We played with blocks and Legos and nesting toys and the Playskool Busy Ball Popper (which she LOVES!)...we read books and practiced standing and took a bath...then, this evening I broke out the new camera, the Rudolph headband, ornaments, lights, and Ash's "Team Santa" outfit to attempt a holiday photo shoot. She single-handedly destroyed a number of my wrapped presents (crash! sideswipe! reacchhhh and thrust), shoved a strand of lights in her mouth, and bounced a breakable ornament like a ball. I took over 40 pictures but I can almost guarantee that not *one* will end up on our holiday card. Ash threw a tantrum when I put her pjs on, arching her back and flailing around wildly, nearly knocking herself out on the changing table. Then there were slight hysterics and salty tears followed by a large bottle and bedtime. As I'm sitting here typing this, I can barely keep my eyes open and it's just a little after 8:30.

A year ago tonight Jeff and I didn't even know who she was. We had just gotten home from my baby shower. Right about now Jeff was putting together the swing and I was sorting through the new clothes, ripping out tags and arranging them into piles that varied by size. (Looking back at the 0-3 stuff is almost surreal; how was she ever that little?!) It was also the last time I ever saw Uncle Billy. Hard to believe. I know Ashlyn so well now and it's crazy to think that he never met her and never will. If you had told me that night what I would be dealing with a mere week from then, and where my life would be now, I don't think I ever would have believed it.

I have been thinking about him a lot lately...I mean not a day has gone by that I haven't, but I guess the holidays/anniversary certainly make it that much more pervasive. I wish more than anything that we could bring him back. I had a dream two nights ago that he was sitting at a table writing a note and he looked upset. I could distinctly see myself walking over to him and putting my arms around him as my dad watched in the background. It would be so wonderful if that were possible. Life is too short, and you never know when you are giving someone a hug for the last time. Just make sure you always hug and love like you mean it.

I couldn't love Ashlyn more if I tried. I look at my perfect little girl when she's in my lap, eyes half-droopy with sleep; when she's squealing and her two little bottom teeth are sticking out; when she's pouting and waving her hand in my face to "go away, Mommy"; and when she wakes up in the morning, beaming and kicking her feet together because she's so happy to see me, and I think that I just can't lose her. She has to live until she's at least 100 and even that isn't long enough. I hope she's always as happy as she can be, and that if she isn't, that she reaches out for help. I want her to know that she is the best thing I have ever created, that I am already so proud of her. Despite all of the day-to-day craziness of raising a child, there is nothing in the world as rewarding or fulfilling.

2010-10-26T20:20:00.000-04:00

I usually love fall. Well, I still do. But for some reason this year it is absolutely flying by, and that makes me sad. I always heard that once you have children, time goes by *that* much faster, and I've come to realize that's not just a saying. It's so true. Ashlyn will be 10 months old on Friday, and we'll be dressing her up for her first Halloween (don't worry, we aren't actually going to take candy from anyone since she obviously only has two teeth in her head)...where has this past year gone?! And wasn't it just September? Now it's nearly November. The next thing you know, I'll be sending a pig-tailed Ash off to kindergarten. Whaaattt. Make it slow down already.

I should be using this time to work on Ashlyn's scrapbook or my children's book, but my head is so clogged with Sudafed that I can't even think straight. So I grabbed the old laptop in the hopes of blogging something interesting. I should have known better. First I went to facebook (ahem, addict), then CNN, and then I found myself here because I thought "Now at least that's something worthwile" but it's really not if I am rambling on about what I just did five minutes ago. It's not entertaining at all. Ugh. Jeff is at the movies, the little bunny is in bed, and here I sit. I am contemplating reading or watching TV now because that's what people do best when they feel sick. GAAAAHHHH this is so boring. I know I should erase it. But I guess there are bound to be just as many UNinteresting days in the life of Tara, so I might as well document them for posterity as well.

All right, off to watch House Hunters or something equally as mind-numbing.

2010-09-18T19:24:00.001-04:00

I honestly love Connecticut. I may be biased since I've lived here all my life and therefore find it comfortable, cozy, familiar and home...but even objectively speaking, I think it's beautiful. Today I wandered up to "The Quiet Corner" (which I lovingly referred to as "The Boring Corner" during my UConn Storrs days) to check out Roseland Cottage in Woodstock with Laurie. I discovered Roseland Cottage's existence online last month while researching various historical New England sights.

It was cloudy and cool this morning, and on the drive north I noticed that several of the trees had already begun their seasonal change; their leaves glowed red and orange against the gray skyline. While the Pomfret/Putnam/Woodstock area of Connecticut might not be the most exciting area of the state, I enjoyed the ride because the winding roads, antique shops, apple orchards, and distinguished-looking schools were all new to me, and I liked the feeling of exploration and discovery in my home state.

While the Roseland Cottage tour was fairly interesting, it wasn't my favorite part of the day. Afterwards, Laurie and I wandered outside to the beautiful garden in front of the house, and we played with a few Colonial toys on the grounds (it happened to be Civil War Reenactment Day). We checked out the oldest standing bowling alley in the world (part of the cottage, believe it or not), and listened to some Civil War era music on the lawn. Then we headed up the road to the Vanilla Bean Cafe (a favorite place of hers, and a long-time memory of mine: the last time I visited was at the end of my freshmen year in 1998).

We enjoyed our lunch and good conversation, and then headed on to Mrs. Bridges Pantry for tea and scones. http://www.mrsbridgespantry.com/ Looooved this! What an unexpected find in adorable Woodstock. Mrs. Bridges is basically a British Tea Shop, and they also sell my favorite foods from London including Walkers shortbread and Dairy Milk chocolate bars. We ordered a pot of tea to share (Yorkshire Gold, to be exact) and two blueberry scones (well, one each). It was the most delicious scone I've ever had in my life. And just to be sitting there with the tea cozy in front of me, the little silver container of sugar cubes, and lots of old people (hahaha) made me feel all warm inside. Okay, I know that sounds lame, but seriously, it's how I felt. I was happy to be having such a fun, cozy, and interesting experience just an hour away from my house even though I felt far-removed from reality for a bit. Does that make sense?

On the way home, we stopped at an eclectic gift shop called Celebrations where they had quite the selection from hand-crafted wine classes and artwork to inspirational journals, soaps and jewelery. I wanted to start my Christmas shopping but was almost too overwhelmed. I retraced my steps a few times before leaving empty-handed. But I have a feeling I'll be back...

I loved today because it was low-key but it was time well-spent. I learned a few new things, I enjoyed each small experience for what it was worth, and I feel like I uncovered some well-hidden secrets in my own back yard. Looking forward to the next adventure.

2010-09-06T21:17:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I wonder if my uncle is okay. People who know me well know that I am a firm believer in life after death and the paranormal. For the past eight months I have been looking for a sign that he is around, that he has seen Ashlyn, that he is at peace. Late at night when I am in her room comforting her or rocking her back to sleep, I'll occasionally hear a noise behind me and wonder if he's watching over us. The rational part of my brain knows that it's not him, but my heart longs for a sense of comfort or closure that, due to the nature of his death, I know I will probably never find. The fact that he missed meeting my daughter by two weeks continues to haunt me. I will always wonder if she could have sparked something in him...some interest? Life? I don't know. I mean I guess I am putting too much on one person because it was beyond one person's control. He didn't stay here for his wife (the love of his life for almost 30 years). He didn't stay here for his two sisters. He didn't stay here for his career even though he had worked there loyally (and with many of the same people) for almost his entire life. Everyone misses him. I can still easily hear his voice in my head...he would almost always start the conversation with "Your mother told me ___________" since he and Mom talked often. I can hear that, and I can hear the conversation we had over the phone the day before he died. It was my birthday. I teased him because he had spent $13 Fed Exing my card to me to make sure it arrived on Saturday (my birthday was on a Sunday). I had no idea that there was a good reason he was Fed Exing that card...if it arrived on Monday evening, he knew he would already be gone. He wanted to make sure I had it before I heard the news.

I could cry just writing this, but honestly there are days when the tears won't come. After eight months, some of the initial shock has worn off but the "why why WHY" will never go away. I hate that I will never have a satisfactory answer. I can read all the books in the world on the topic but not one will tell me what my uncle was thinking or why he chose to do what he did. All I know is that I, like everyone else, wish there was something I could have done to have prevented it. I wish Ashlyn's arrival could have sustained him for a little while longer, I wish her new life could have reminded him of how amazing this world can be, I wish we could go back in time to our home videos where Uncle Billy's biggest concern was making sure his wiffle ball pitch went over the plate so that Ryan could hit a homerun. I just hope that he is better off, wherever he is, since he felt like he couldn't be here anymore.

I love my little chunkaroo.

2010-08-24T21:11:00.000-04:00

Yes, that's one of a zillion nicknames I have for my little bunny (Ashlyn). People will tell you that parenthood is amazing, that nothing beats it, that you will just *know* instantaneously what being a parent means as soon as you hold them in the hospital. And I will agree with that to an extent, but I have found that my love for my daughter grows exponentially (at least!) by the day as I get to know her better. When they're newborns, they are sweet because they're small and new and needy, but they don't light up the room with their smile. They don't belly laugh through mouthfuls of pureed mango or stick their tongue out over their two baby teeth. They don't reach for you when you stand over their crib in the morning, and they don't squeal with delight when you come home from work. Ashlyn amazes me on a daily basis with her ability to explore and grasp new things (both tangibly and conceptually). She is my new favorite hobby.

Tonight she fell asleep on Jeff's lap about halfway through her bottle. She looked totally content with her rosy cheeks, green and brown flowered sleeper, long eyelashes, and little puckered mouth. I took a few pictures of this innocence, and then carefully lifted her onto my shoulder. Her head nuzzled into me and I hugged her even more tightly. As I stood there, I thought I might explode from within with love. I can't explain exactly how much love I have for this little girl, but the sheer amount is staggering. She will be 8 months old next week, and I can only imagine what the next few weeks, months, and years will bring. Yesterday at work I daydreamed about taking her to see London, one of my favorite places, when she's five years old. Even though I know five wouldn't be the best age to travel 7 hours on a plane. Even though she will probably have a very young sibling at that point, and we most likely won't be traveling over the Atlantic.

I just want to share everything with her. I want to teach her and watch her experience life. And life is too short to even begin to show her the whole world, which I want more than anything.

2010-07-26T17:42:00.003-04:00

Badge # 439.

That number will stay with me forever now, even though the first time I ever heard it mentioned was on Wednesday or Thursday of last week. That was before I knew what an inspirational person Dan Naimoli was…before I knew how many lives he had touched…and before I understood the depth of the impact his loss would have on the entire surrounding community including his family, friends, the Meriden police and fire departments, and the National Guard.

Dan is the brother of one of my best friends, Angela. Last Tuesday, July 20th, I was driving home from zumba class when my cell phone rang. I will never forget where I was (Route 85 in Salem, CT) or what time it was (7:26 p.m.) when I answered. I could immediately tell that something was wrong by the tone of Ange’s voice, but because we were merely a week and a half out from her wedding, I didn’t think anything of it. Any number of last minute details might have come crashing down around her, so I tentatively asked, “What’s wrong??” I don’t think I could ever have been prepared for her response, “Everything’s wrong. My brother died.”

On Thursday night I drove to Angela’s parents’ house to help put together photo collages for the wake. I was tired of sitting around, feeling helpless. Hundreds of memories were strewn haphazardly across the kitchen table. Dan with his two boys, Nicholas and Robbie. Dan looking handsome in a tux. Dan in Osh Kosh overalls, circa 1986, walking with his mom. Dan and Ange through the years including New Kids on the Block sweatshirts and Halloween costumes. Dan hugging his dad in the kitchen. This vibrant life that was pieced together through moments now being cut up and placed on cardboard backdrops. “Doesn’t he look exactly like Dan?” someone exclaimed as they carefully placed a photo of Robbie on the photoboard. “I want this one in there, even though it’s dark,” Ange’s mom said. “It’s one of the only ones we have with of him in his police uniform.”

Dan’s death made the local news. You could find a legacy video about his life and public service on wfsb.com. The Meriden Record Journal published numerous articles about him, and about his dedication to the community. If you visited Dan’s facebook page, you would see that many of his friends and colleagues changed their profile pictures to Badge #439. The goodbye messages, poems, and memories piled on as the news traveled quickly; as people became aware of the fact that their friend was truly gone.

I knew that the wake wouldn’t be easy. My heart was literally breaking for Angela and her entire family, especially because it was so close to her wedding day. When I saw Dan lying there in his uniform with his white gloves on, and noticed how photos of his smiling boys were placed gingerly on top of his jacket, I lost it. Throughout the course of the evening, I noted that a wide range of people came to pay their respects to Dan: old, young, black, white, uniformed, non-uniformed. You could almost visualize all the compartments of Dan’s complete life coming together in one room. The only thing missing was Dan himself. His many accolades and awards covered tabletops. His Eagle Scout ring rested on a black velvet case. His friends stood or sat silently, at a loss for how someone so young, yet so accomplished, could be taken from us so soon.

I knew the funeral would be even more difficult. First of all, Jeff had to watch Ashlyn so I was attending alone. I woke up that sweltering morning and couldn’t even begin to imagine how Angela and her family were coping. To me, the most difficult aspect of funerals are comprised of those final moments in the funeral home. Saying goodbye to someone you know so well and love so much, knowing that you will never *see* them again.

I arrived in the church parking lot around 9:15 a.m., and the funeral was scheduled to begin at 10. I planned on meeting our friend Dani there around 9:30, and texted her to say that there was still plenty of parking available. Well within a matter of minutes that turned out to be inaccurate. Carloads and carloads of people filled up the parking lot quickly. I saw a woman get out of her car and hold up her camera. I looked at her incredulously, as if to say, “What could you possibly be photographing at an occasion like this?” I turned around. There, hanging over the street from an extended firetruck ladder, was a huge American flag. It was beautiful.

People congregated on the sidewalk. Mostly young people. Mostly dressed in black. The Red Cross handed out bottled water. The temperature slowly climbed to a hot and sweaty 87 degrees. Men and women in various uniforms milled around. They must have been overheated, but of course they never complained. Around 10:10, a bagpiper made his way down the street, carrying bittersweet, mournful notes behind him. I was already close to tears. Dani and I stood behind a number of policemen, firefighters, and soldiers who were all lined up in formation at the base of the sidewalk and all the way up the stairs. Policemen from Groton, New London, Manchester, all over Connecticut. The hearse pulled in. The casket was draped in a boldly colored American flag. I caught a glimpse of Angela’s face as she walked up the steps. She was crying.

The service was beautiful and moving. Never before have I left a funeral service thinking, “God, that was amazing.” But it was. One of Vivian‘s (Dan’s mom) eighteen siblings happens to be a priest, and he came down from Canada to lead the service. He spoke honestly and from the heart, both as a priest and as an uncle to Dan (“Denn” as he pronounced it, being from Canada). At one point he addressed only Dan’s immediate family: Viv, Gary, and Angie; although he said “I guess the rest of you can’t help but listen.” A little laughter. The music was gorgeous and filled the space with light and sound. “Be Not Afraid”; “On Eagle’s Wings”; and even the songs sung every Sunday took on new meaning here.

Dan’s Uncle Robbie, long-time family friend (and almost sister) Stephanie, and close friend Sidney told stories that portrayed Dan’s sense of humor, his compassion, and his ability, above all, to be a real friend to people. A true hero, in his sister’s words.

We moved on from the church ceremony to Sacred Heart Cemetery. I swear traffic was stopped on every single street corner in the entire city. Any police officers that were not attending the funeral that day were on duty, holding cars back to allow the funeral procession through. Cars gleamed in the blazing sunlight, hazards flashing, and had to loop around a few times just to allow room for everyone to park. I’ve never seen so many people at a grave site before. I’ve never seen police officers cry before, either. It was a day of many firsts.

I knew they were going to do the 21-gun salute. I have heard Taps played at funerals before. But I had never experienced the most poignant and haunting, yet so fitting, tribute that they gave Dan. Because I was so moved by this aspect of the ceremony, I have to copy the words from Angela’s cousin’s blog (thank you, Josh) because while I remember the gist of what was said, I was so choked up at this point that my mind was blurry.

Audible conversation heard over walkie talkies:

“H (headquarters) to 439 (Danny’s badge number)”

“439”

“439”

“H to 439…watch ended.” (Although in my memory, they said “Watch over.” Someone can feel free to correct me if I’m wrong).

I heard a few gasps, I saw shoulders heave, and I didn’t see anyone who wasn’t crying. It was sad, it was beautiful, it was echoing, and it resonated. You could hear the sirens throughout Meriden.

The sun continued to beat down on us as every uniformed officer lined up, two-by-two, to bid farewell to Dan. When I saw the first officer remove his white gloves and place them on the casket, I thought it was a nice gesture. I didn’t realize that every single officer that followed would do the same. Some cried, some kneeled, others placed their hands gingerly on the casket. Some kissed the wood of the casket. Some held each other for strength. I was touched when a few went over and offered their condolences directly to Angela and her family. I cried again.

I think one of the moments I will always remember from that day was when a man addressed the crowd and said “You want to know what brotherhood looks like? Look no further” and pointed towards the scores of uniformed officers (policemen, firefighters, and National Guardsmen) lined up in formation. They are all heroes. I think everyone that attended Dan Naimoli’s funeral now not only has a better understanding of what an amazing (and modest) person he was, but also what an amazing community we all live in. As Dan’s Uncle Leo (the priest) said, we will have to live our lives as Dan lived his. And after learning about his, I couldn’t be more inspired.

2010-04-03T22:10:00.004-04:00

So it's been awhile. I have a three month old now and she is everything we could have ever asked for and so much more. Her smile literally lights up the room, and she does this adorable thing where she sticks a little bit of her tongue out and then breaks into the widest grin you've ever seen. It makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world.

I knew a lot would change once I became a mom, but while everyone always tries to prepare you for the more stressful aspects of parenting..."you'll never see your friends again...you think you're tired NOW?! just wait!...if you can get through the first 6 weeks, you're good," etc.; no one explains that part of your daily life will stay the same but it will be forever enhanced.

I remember one day late last summer, Jeff and I were sitting on the deck and I was feeling a bit melancholy (and no doubt hormonal). I watched the wind rustle the leaves and sighed as I realized that our days as a couple--as just us--were numbered. I thought to myself "You better take this in right now because nothing will ever be the same again." And while that thought still holds true to this day, I was wrong to mourn the "before" part of our life just then. Jeff is still very important to me; he is a constant in my life and now he is also known as "Daddy" to my beautiful daughter. Our "after" doesn't mean that three's a crowd or that we won't ever have time to ourselves again. It just calls for some minor adjustments. Now that we're developing more of a routine, I can honestly say that I love being a mom in addition to being Jeff's wife. I can't imagine my life any other way...it's like we've always had Ashlyn with us.

This afternoon I sat out on the deck and took in the sunshine while writing out thank you cards for Ashlyn's christening. Jeff raked the leaves and cut down branches while Ash sat contentedly at my feet, playing with her rattle and cooing. I still have time to relax. I can still enjoy the sunshine. And at the end of the day, I fall asleep knowing that my little family is safe and sound. Life doesn't get any better than this.

Oh, and this song makes me cry because it's so true:

He didn't have to wake up
He'd been up all night
Layin' there in bed listening
To his newborn baby cry
He makes a pot of coffee
He splashes water on his face
His wife gives him a kiss and says
It's gonna be okay...

It won't be like this for long
One day we'll look back laughin'
At the week we brought her home
This phase is gonna fly by
So baby just hold on
'Cause it won't be like this for long.

Four years later 'bout 4:30
She's crawling in their bed
And when he drops her off at preschool
She's clinging to his leg
The teacher peels her off of him
He says what can I do
She says now don't you worry
This will only last a week or two.

It won't be like this for long
One day soon you'll drop her off
And she won't even know you're gone
This phase is gonna fly by
If you can just hold on
It won't be like this for long...

2009-10-20T18:30:00.002-04:00

In 7th grade, I would occasionally take a blank notebook out into the woods with me after school. I would situate myself Indian-style on the trunk of an enormous dead tree, prop my back up against its living counterpart, and think that nothing could be more romantic: a girl, alone with her thoughts, exploring the daily trials and tribulations of life. Today, I felt like that girl again. Not in a romantic sense, but more due to her innocence and vulnerability. She was sensitive. Always so sensitive.

Tonight I took a walk after work by myself, down to the beach in my jeans, clogs, and Jeff's hoodie. It smelled like October, and smells always transport me to another time and place. All of a sudden I was eight, playing in the brook behind Amy and Chris's house...then I was fourteen, riding my bike around the neighborhood streets at our new house. Then Ashlyn gave me a decent kick in my side which brought me back to the present. In two and a half months, I am going to be a mom. And I have been through all of the mood swings lately to prove it: from excitement and anticipation, to nervousness and crying fits. I honestly feel like I can't control my emotions right now. Unfortunately they come flying out of me no matter who I'm with or what I'm talking about. I believe this is unnerving to some people who either have never experienced pregnancy or haven't experienced it in a long time. They ask me questions and expect a certain reaction, and if I don't provide the appropriate amount of enthusiasm, they assume that I'm not happy, or that I am preoccupied, or they merely sigh in exasperation at my lack of response. That is exasperating to ME because I am an honest person by nature (some prefer to call it blunt or realistic) and I don't do well forcing fake excitement or enthusiasm if I simply cannot muster either feeling at that particular moment.

It's amazing, the amount of advice you receive when you're pregnant...from so many various avenues. And everyone has the best intentions, but after months and months of hearing what foods to eat, and how to maintain a certain level of exercise, and "maybe you should try this" and "maybe you shouldn't have done that," it really makes me want to scream. Loudly. At the top of my lungs, even. I am seriously trying to take care of myself in addition to this little girl who's growing inside of me, and I know that I am making all of the right decisions when it comes to her health and well-being. I just wish that other people would realize that and back off sometimes. I am not twelve anymore. I have learned so much in the nearly thirty years that I've been here, but somehow I still end up feeling like that vulnerable girl. Not because of what I think of myself, but because of what others think of me. I just wish I didn't take everything to heart. It really does get to be exhausting when I'm already having enough trouble sleeping at night.

She's a girl!

2009-08-19T19:45:00.002-04:00

Well, the technician said she was 95-99% sure she was a girl, but that it was our decision on whether or not we wanted to paint the room pink. ;) I think they have to say that to cover their bases, or cover their ____. Jeff and I are beyond ecstatic. We can finally call our daughter by her name when we talk to her or about her (except it's still going to be a secret to everyone else!) Everything about her is growing perfectly...she's an adorable 11 oz. and we saw everything from the bottoms of her little feet to her two kidneys, her wonderful heart, her spinal cord, her arms, legs, and brain. It was amazing. Towards the end of the ultrasound (about 25 minutes altogether), the technician just calmly says, "Oh. It's a girl." I couldn't believe it! I was so sure that SHE was a HE, but I was wrong. There is something to be said for father's intuition...

When we left, Jeff and I headed over to Babies R Us and started looking at cribs, changing tables, and bedding. Then we set out to buy her one outfit each and ended up with at least five (including one from our cat, Nutmeg, because we couldn't resist.) We are already so in love and can't wait for her to arrive.

Anticipation

2009-08-18T18:23:00.002-04:00

My friend Angela always says that she likes Fridays better than Saturdays due to the anticipation of the weekend...because the waiting/anxiety/excitement leading up to the weekend is occasionally more rewarding than the weekend itself. Jeff and I have been looking forward to tomorrow (more specifically, to the date August 19th at 1:50 p.m.) for months now, and here we are, 20 hours out, and I am wondering if I will feel slightly deflated after I *know* for sure whether I'm having a boy or girl. I don't think I will, because this is such a big discovery, but then again, the guessing games and dreams and intrigue have certainly served their purpose as well.

I will say that I am excited to move onto the second phase of this pregnancy: creating a nursery theme (yay!) and researching the items we want on our registry. Now when I go into Babies R' Us, I can actually direct myself to gender-specific items and fall in love with the idea of having a little boy or little girl all over again.

Definitely stay tuned. I will be sure to post the news tomorrow. Pray that the baby cooperates!!!

2009-08-09T11:44:00.003-04:00

I am beginning to get a little stressed. Forgive me that all I ever write about lately is my pregnancy, but there are so many elements to be taken care of before the little one even arrives that I feel completely overwhelmed sometimes. Like, in a panic, break down into tears "what are we going to do" overwhelmed. For example, take what happened this morning. Jeff merely *mentioned* the idea of us keeping my desk in the nursery when the baby arrives because we don't really have any room for it anywhere else, and I completely lost it..."what a stupid idea, I can't work at home with the baby in the nursery, I don't want the baby to have to share his/her room with me!!!" (imagine all this being screeched out, my face becoming hotter and redder as the ridiculousness of the idea continued to infuriate me). There's no reason for me to go off at him like that for merely making a suggestion. No sane reason, anyway. But prior to that incident this morning, I had spent about an hour researching childcare for my unborn child (a child who might be a daughter or might be a son; we don't even know yet, but since childcare is so sought after in this day and age, there are possible waiting lists, a worse possibility of the center having no room, and all of this must be determined nearly a year in advance, before I'm even ready to imagine myself dropping my baby off at daycare.)

And childcare is not inexpensive. It's another piece of the adulthood budget that we have yet to figure out...how are we going to get there and how can we ensure we're making the right decision? Added to the stress is the fact that my face is breaking out like a 14-year-old's and the fact that I still feel unattractive in addition to weird about my growing, still-not-quite-popped-out belly, my constant absentmindedness (when I'm used to having such an excellent memory) and all the other daily stresses that come with work, friends, relationships, etc. Sometimes my head feels like it might explode (certain days from excitement, others from sheer panic). And what I want right now is a relaxing glass of wine and I can't even have that. Grrrrrr.

2009-07-29T19:40:00.002-04:00

I forgot to mention that I think it's a boy...for whatever reason, no idea if I'm even close to right or why I believe it is a boy. But today I came home from work, and as I was rolling the garbage can across the expanse of lawn to place it back behind the shed, I thought of all the possible future baseball (wiffleball) games that would take place there, and how I would come out and offer my 6-year-old and his friends lemonade and he would say, "Thanks, Mom" and it truly brought a smile to my face.

2009-07-28T16:59:00.002-04:00

Hmm. I just realized that I started this post right as Gilmore Girls was coming on. That was stupid of me. And Lorelai and Rory are opening a box of incredibly delicious looking cheese pizza and that act is sending waves of "you must go get pizza NOW" thoughts to my brain even though I'm PRETTY sure that all of the cravings I've had so far this pregnancy have merely been excuses to eat whatever the hell I feel like eating at the moment, as opposed to actual, honest-to-goodness food intake needs.

I hit 17 weeks yesterday and I am desperately wondering if the baby is a girl or boy. Jeff and I have been calling the poor little thing "it" for lack of the appropriate gender word, and that is seriously getting old. My baby is not an "it." He or she has a name, and I need to call him or her by that name so that I feel more attached and less like he/she is just a foreign object lodged in my stomach. We find out in 22 days and yes, I am willing to accept bets. ;)

I am still not really showing yet, except I look a little chunkier than usual and my regular pants are beginning to feel tight. I am looking forward to the day when my belly "pops" so that I feel less fat and more pregnant. I know, people think I am ridiculous for even saying that--"Tara, it's not fat--you're PREGnant" but it is hard to believe when you look in the mirror and see the Pillsbury Doughgirl staring back at you, as opposed to one of those adorable pregnant mommies with the pretty basketball bump and not an ounce of fat anywhere else. (Thanks, Heather, for that visual).

This summer flew by, mostly because the weather has been subpar and dismal and my bouts of morning sickness forced me to spend several weekends propped up by couch cushions and sustained by ginger ale and saltines (neither of which did anything to alleviate the nausea). I had a lovely time at girls' weekend in Vermont, and Jeff and I just came back from a relaxing long weekend at the Cape, but other than that, the days have been ticking away in the mundane fashion that they normally would. Which I suppose I should be thankful for since in just five months, we will have a BABY and we definitely have a lot to accomplish before January 4th arrives. Finalizing the name decision (we are set with our boy's name but not completely on our girl's name), choosing a nursery theme, registering for all sorts of baby contraptions that I currently probably don't even realize they exist, taking classes at the hospital, etc.

I know it will be an exciting time, and I am looking forward to every minute of it, but I guess all I'm saying is that to truly feel that this is all happening, I need to a) look the part; and b) find out if my baby is a boy or girl so we can start focusing on their future life with us. I have no idea how some people are able to hold out for 9 months without knowing!!! My friend Kara is due to have her baby in a week, and they decided to be surprised. I give her a lot of credit because I don't have the patience to wait 5 more months. It would be one thing if I grew up in my parents' generation, where finding out really wasn't an option, but this day and age, if instant gratification is available, I'm all for it.

I'll be sure to keep everyone posted with the news.

2009-06-21T13:31:00.002-04:00

My fitness kick was going amazingly well (sans the whole treadmill incident) until Jeff and I discovered that our first child will be arriving in January. Now, I didn't abruptly drop the gym routine in order to embrace the whole "eating for two and who cares how much weight I gain" mentality; rather, the gym kind of dropped me. I will be 12 weeks along tomorrow and while I can't say I've been throwing up like a champ (that only happened once, thankfully), I have been enduring what I can only describe to the average non-pregnant person as a constant 4 week hangover: the lightheadedness, nausea, extreme fatigue, wanting-to-sink-into-the-couch-and-never-leave-it feeling that rarely lets up. I had always heard that pregnant women have the tendency to feel "tired" but that word doesn't even begin to describe the exhaustion and the effort it takes to literally grow another person. While I go from day to day and it seems like I'm not physically doing ANYthing, I end the day with the sense that I just completed a triathalon. I haven't felt like myself in weeks--I have no energy, and sometimes it takes everything I have in me just to drive to work, sit there all day, and drive home. Then at home I make dinner, watch TV or read for maybe 3 hours and fall asleep. A riveting life!! (which makes me wonder--why the hell am I so tired?!)

But enough whining...I just had to bring you all into the world I've been experiencing since May 9th (the day before Mother's Day, how appropriate) when I found out that next year at that same time, I would be a mom myself. Jeff and I are beyond excited (when I have the energy to muster up the excitement) and luckily since we've been together for 9 years, we have been discussing name choices for at least a few years now and have condensed the list into a short one we both finally approve of. There were many names we did not agree on (for example, Jeff kept bringing up the name "Miles" as a "cool middle name" and all I could think of was good old Miles Standish so I told him to "Keep on thinking." I know there were plenty of names that I threw out there that caused him to throw me a look of equal distaste, but of course I can't remember which ones they were because obviously I felt they were perfect.)

We are definitely going to find out what we're having, most likely by mid to late August, and that will be another extremely fun time. For the record, I believe we're having a boy since nearly all my friends (except Heather) have had boys in the past two years. Jeff says he keeps picturing a blonde-haired, brown-eyed girl in his head, so we'll see. Maybe we'll make a bet and the winner will have to take the loser out for lunch on the day of the ultrasound. No matter what, we will be happy with the outcome. We're planning on having two kids, and would love one of each, but whatever happens is most likely what's right for us, and we know that.

Today I woke up for the first time with a little more energy, so I'm thinking I'm turning the corner on the whole morning sickness business. I am going to make it my goal to get outside and walk more (if this rain will ever let up!!) and also to really strive to eat well...I have to say I've given into a few cravings already including Tostitos queso dip (no nutritional value whatsoever), pizza, a vanilla milkshake, and chicken tikka masala (mmmm love Indian food!)...and the only real aversions I've experienced so far are coffee which I never crave anymore (amazing) and sometimes veggie burgers and Fiber One bars. Totally weird, I know.

So my first ultrasound is scheduled for Thursday and I am really looking forward to seeing the baby for the first time (to me, seeing is believing) because I need to connect all of these symptoms to something tangible. While it is real in a sense to me now, I know that everything will fall into place once I can see and understand what's truly going on inside of me. I'm sure I'll have an update once I experience that, so stay tuned.

2009-05-02T09:35:00.002-04:00

Well my fitness routine was going well until I took a major digger on the treadmill Wednesday morning (that expression dates back to my semester in London when I fell down on some cobblestone road in Salisbury--one of my roommates said, "Whoa, Tara, you just took a major digger!" I thought that was hilarious). Anyway, I have been hobbling around for three days now because my knee is banged up and I have a bruise the size of a personal pan pizza on my other leg. It's partially my fault but honestly, this gym employee kind of yelled out and went racing across the room to the weight section, so I thought someone was hurt or had dropped a weight on themselves or something. I craned my head to the left for maybe 8 seconds and the next thing I knew I was on my knees at the end of the treadmill with the belt still going (speed: 6.0) and for the life of me I couldn't get up quickly enough so scrape, scrape, scrape went my knee. And the worst part was, not one person came over to help. They all kind of gasped and continued to work out and then (helpfully) told me that I was bleeding. Um, yeah, I know.

Overall, it's frustrating because I have been really proud of myself for getting back into running and for actually doing a decent job of it...I just don't want to lose a lot of time between now and summer. I was hoping to get back to the gym by Monday but we'll see how it goes because right now it even hurts to walk. On the bright side, I am currently enjoying a lazy Saturday to myself--guilt-free because I really can't do much even if I wanted to. My plan for the day includes reading more Columbine, watching TV, playing the piano, looking through old photos and eventually getting ready to go to The Playwright later...which will involve actually getting dressed in something other than sweatpants and a hoodie.

In other news:

1. I've decided that I really want Sirius for my car. I've been Howard Stern-less for far too long, and I only catch bits and pieces of the show when they replay it on the weekends now. Also, "The Pulse" plays every single song I have ever loved; it's like my very own personal Tara station.

2. I cannot believe it's May already. Where the hell has the time gone? I feel like it was February yesterday. I also feel like last year was yesterday. And I am going to be 30 in 7 months which is CRAAAAZY to me. I do not feel like my age, which might explain why I am carded for R-rated movies. Also, because I look like I'm 17 apparently.

3. Work has been going really well lately. Over a year in the department, and I can still say that I am happy and feel validated by so many people there. It's amazing what a difference a job environment can make.

I think that's about all for now, only because I want to go relax. :)

2009-04-08T19:44:00.003-04:00

FINALLY. I got my arse back to the gym. Ultimately I think I just became tired of my own incessant whining. My bouts of "I'm tooooo tired" and "I don't understand whyyyy I'm not losing weight" (insert Artie Lange WAAAAHHHHH here), compiled with my scary, angst-filled fits of rage (envision clothes flying around the room, landing in heaps at my feet after being yanked off in distress) became too much for me to handle. I broke down (but this time in the right way) and hauled myself to the gym at work for the first time in over a year. I prayed to the gym gods that I would be able to successfully complete a mile without keeling over...and I was able to run TWO. My dad always says that you just have to do something a few times in order for it to become part of your routine, and he's right. (my dentist also said the same thing to me yesterday about flossing, but that's another story). So I've been waking up at 5 a.m. in order to get to the gym by 6 which has been awesome. I feel accomplished and productive by the time I sit down at my desk around 7:30 which is something I haven't felt in forever. I just have to keep this up. All right, enough with the personal cheerleading.

In other news, I have decided that I really should learn how to cook. I mean I have owned a crockpot for three years and you know how many times I have used it? Not once! I am the most undomesticated person I know. Wait, is undomesticated even a word? Do I mean undomestic? For some reason I keep thinking of cats as domesticated. But my point is, the kitchen scares me. I am completely out of place among recipe books, pots, pans and well, when it comes down to it, uncooked/raw meat. Nothing makes me more grossed out than when I'm handling a slimy, rubbery chicken breast. You want me to do WHAT with this? I know, I know...I am totally lame. So my (late) New Year's resolution is to look up and begin saving crockpot recipes to try out. I want to try the recipes out secretly, though, so that if I fail, no one will ever have to know.

Which is a good segue into why I have never attempted wailing at Guitar Hero. I am horribly afraid of sucking at something in front of people--even if they're my friends. For whatever reason, I have yet to make it past the emotional scars of middle school. I can still remember being called out for my various deficits, from my poofy hair to my utterly unremarkable athletic skills. I was chosen last in gym class almost every time. All right so this went from a personal cheerleading session to a woe-is-me post, but I'm not really upset about any of it. I am just matter-of-factly attempting to learn about myself and why I am the way I am. Sometimes I think I have come so far and other times I feel just as shy as I did back in kindergarten. I see people with real confidence and a true ability to believe in themselves, and I wonder why I can't feel that way all the time. Why do I still feel insecure when I am honestly putting so much effort into every aspect of my life? Sometimes I stumble on my words when I'm talking because I'm trying to quickly get out what I have to say...just in case the person on the other end doesn't want to hear it (as if I am not that important!) What is that about? That's something I've been focusing on recently; I'd like to change that behavior as well.

Well my eyes are pretty heavy which is funny because it's only 8:24, but I still have to watch Lost and find out who got voted off of American Idol before bed...it's a big night. So thanks for reading/listening. I will hopefully be posting more frequently because my intermittent blogging is driving me crazy. I love to write...so I am going to write. Alleluia.

2009-03-29T09:35:00.002-04:00

I've never been a fan of Sundays, dating back to my elementary school days. I think my mom worked 3-11 most Sundays so it was usually me, my dad, my grandpa, and my brother hanging out at our house on Sunday afternoon. Now don't get me wrong, I loved them all as a 6-year-old, but I think I felt slightly outnumbered in the girls camp. I wandered around the house while Dad and Grandpa drank their beer and watched football (that was mainly for my Grandpa, as I know my dad could care less about any sports) and Ryan played video games. I didn't always know what to do with myself. (for some reason, a Road Runner coloring book keeps flashing through my mind in addition to a dreary, gray day pressing itself into the large bay window over my dad's head). I'm sure I read or played My Little Pony and took care of whatever homework I had from second grade...but those afternoons tended to drag on, and I knew that Monday morning and school were right around the corner.

I occasionally still feel like this, although as an adult I now realize that all time is precious, and I shouldn't spend 52 days a year wishing the day away. It helps that I really like my job now because Monday mornings aren't as painful as they used to be. When Jeff and I lived in New London, I spent more than half of every Sunday whining and feeling sorry for myself that it was back to another week, back to the same old routine.

But I have always loved rainy Sundays. They are to be enjoyed by everyone...cozy inside and no need to even get dressed or make a plan for the day. No real motivation to accomplish anything of substance, just movies, TV, good books, warm comfort food, (I think I just heard thunder, yay!), and blankets. Today my parents are coming over for Jeff's amazing pasta fagioli and some red wine. I miss them and don't get to see them nearly as much as I'd like to, considering they're only an hour and 15 minutes away. I know I can count on good conversation, great food, fun stories and another memorable rainy Sunday.

2009-01-25T00:56:00.003-05:00

I miss Ange. It's not often that I have the opportunity to hang out with my girls. Ohhhhh I had too many martinis but who cares?! She is great. We played "Singstar" which is basically just a glorified karaoke game. We blasted songs from the 80s and 90s like they were going out of style, we drank martinis, we had wine, we ate pasta, we talked and we laughed. I am sad now because they left at 12:30 and now it's 1:00 a.m. and I wish they could have stayed. I'm sure this is going to sound ridiculous but I wish I had girls that LIVED in my TOWN. Not in Vermont or Manchester or New York. But heeeeeeereeeee. It's 1:08 and I want Angela here. I want to blare into a microphone with her, to butt bump her while singing...uummmm well I can't remember what exactly we were singing. Geez. We sang some Nickelback and some STP and yeah I really don't remember much else. But it was awesome. Night night.

25 Random Things

2009-01-19T11:29:00.002-05:00

1. I love to write but I don't do it nearly as often as I should. I kept a personal journal on and off from 4th grade through college, and it amazes me that I had such dedication (or maybe it was merely teenage angst) and passion back then for writing pages and pages in a single entry. Now when I get home from work I usually just want to read, watch TV, check CNN.com, and go on facebook. Luckily my career enables me to write on a daily basis which does make me feel a little better about not writing for myself.

2. I am not very graceful. Never have been, never will be. I am constantly tripping, falling, ramming into things, getting bruised, dropping objects on the floor, etc. I don't know what it is but I have spent my entire life crashing and burning. Falling down entire flights of stairs, breaking my wrist rollerskating, falling off my bike, breaking my ankle (twice), and constantly watching things slide from my grip (my deodorant, my hairbrush, tupperware--you name it, it's on the ground).

3. I work really hard to maintain my weight. I've lost 30 pounds on Weight Watchers since joining nearly 3 years ago and every day is somewhat of a struggle. I eat healthfully for the most part but I find it hard when I see skinnier people consuming however many calories a day and staying the same weight when I have one bad day and notice every single ounce gained. I try to keep a positive self image but after battling a negative one for so many years, it can be difficult at times.

4. Jeff and I met in Chorus at UConn. He was sitting in the Tenor section and I was an Alto, and he was always laughing and being friendly to everyone around him. I could tell right away that he was truly a genuine person (and the cute floppy brown hair and shining brown eyes didn't hurt, either). I developed a crush at 17 when I was a freshman (he was a sophomore) and soon found out that he was still with his high school sweetheart of three years. So we became friends and I waited my turn...we finally started going out my junior year. He was well worth the wait.

5. My favorite city in the world is London. I spent the fall semester of my senior year of college there and I have been there a total of 4 times. It feels like home to me. I love Oxford Circus and Trafalgar Square, Covent Garden, Piccadilly Circus, and Leicester Square. And Jeff proposed to me on Tower Bridge on September 12, 2005.

6. I love clothes from JCrew, Ann Taylor Loft and Banana. If money wasn't an object, I would seriously buy new clothes every week. I'm not shallow or vain, but I just like the way I feel when I'm wearing a certain pair of cute pants or a nice sweater. I have been told that I am "preppy" which I suppose is accurate...I might describe myself as "classic." I love cords and sweaters and cardigans, jeans and flats and button down shirts. I don't wear a lot of t-shirts/sweatshirts/sneakers out unless I'm exercising or going for a walk.

7. My favorite author is Jodi Picoult. She writes vividly and realistically, and while I don't love all her books equally (a few favorites include "My Sister's Keeper," "The Pact," and "Salem Falls"), I find that she tends to write in a voice that I can relate to. I had the opportunity to meet her at a book signing once and unfortunately I was so nervous I could barely even pay her the compliment that was inside my head. She ended up telling me she liked my coat.

8. Speaking of famous encounters, I suppose I should tell one of the stories that has become one of my claims to fame. When I worked at the Goodspeed Opera House, I met Julie Andrews who was there directing "The Boy Friend." You would think I would tell her how much I enjoyed "The Sound of Music" when I was growing up (loved it!) but oh, no...I was making platters of cheese and crackers for the Opening Night party and since I am clumsy (see random thing #2), I was having an issue cutting the cheese in perfect little squares, so I had a plate of misshapen cheese pieces to the side. Anyway, Big Jules comes in from rehearsal and exclaims "I'm starving!" so I run over with my plate of misshapen cheese pieces and say "Would you like some rejected cheese pieces?!" to which she replied "Rejected cheese pieces would be lovely. Let me just go get some bread." No joke.

9. My parents have one of the best relationships I have ever known. They are each other's best friend, they still have date night every Friday and honestly enjoy being with each other. I think they were an excellent example for my own relationship with Jeff.

10. We have a cat named Nutmeg. I love cats!! Throughout the course of my life, my family has had many cats: Natasha, O.J., Buckwheat, Frisky, Cupcake, Fievel, Tuxedo, and Oreo.

11. I have my Teaching Certification and am certified to teach K-6 in Connecticut, however, I know that teaching isn't where I am meant to be. I had applied to 54 teaching jobs in 2004 and couldn't land a single interview despite being in the national educational honor society...so I ended up at Goodspeed for 3 and a 1/2 years and now I am working as a Strategic Proposal Writer at Aetna. I like my job because it involves strategy, editing, writing, and every case is different and dynamic. OH, and the people in our department are young, driven, and smart. And great.

12. I only have 2 wisdom teeth and to date I haven't had to have them removed. However, I have been feeling a dull pain where my right one is and am wondering if it will be time soon (they told me it would be time years ago).

13. One of the hardest things I've ever had to go through was when Jeff's dad died in 2003. We knew for a year that it was coming, but we didn't know when. I was 23 when he was diagnosed with cancer and honestly had no idea how to deal with my boyfriend/best friend's father dying. I know it was obviously way harder on Jeff, but it was one of the first times I felt like my listening skills and love were just not enough.

14. I love rollercoasters, water slides, and almost any other amusement park ride...but I HATE the bumper cars. This all stems from one incident when I was probably 10 or 11, and I couldn't get my car to face the right way...so I was driving the wrong way and getting hit by EVERYONE while simultaneously being yelled at by the ride operator when everyone was staring at me. I was a crying mess by the time I exited the ride (never did get my car to face the right way!!) and I have never been back on the bumper cars since.

15. I am incredibly nostalgic, sometimes to a fault. I love looking at old photos, home videos, yearbooks, discussing memories with my family and friends, watching chorus concerts and even sometimes (don't laugh) reading an old Baby-sitters Club or Sweet Valley Twins book. There's just something about that safe and innocent piece of your childhood that will always feel like home to me.

16. I hate when people tailgate me on the highway, but I also hate it when the car in front of me is going 20 miles an hour when the speed limit is 45. I am usually sandwiched between the two (someone on my ass and someone in front of me that is never going to get where they're going). Ask Jeff. I am a bad driver magnet.

17. My brother and I used to use his glow-in-the-dark Construx to create outerspace in his bedroom. We would spread out the Construx all over his floor (strategically, of course) and then turn off the lights and pretend we were above The Milky Way somewhere.

18. I love theatre. I wish I could see more shows...but over the years I have seen "Les Mis", "Phantom", "Rent", "Mamma Mia", "Wicked", "Fiddler on the Roof", "Doubt," "A Streetcar Named Desire," "The Glass Menagerie," "The Lion King," etc. and countless Goodspeed shows.

19. I value my husband, family, and friends over anything else in my life. I really would do anything for the people who are close to me. And I love listening and giving advice (when asked for it).

20. I once made up a song about Lunchables to the tune of "Silver Bells" on our family trip out West in 1995 (somewhere between Utah and Arizona). Lunchables...lunchables...oh how my brother loves to EAT them! Ham and cheese, turkey breast...this is what my bro loves beeeesst. Crackers and cheese, two kinds of each, it just melts in his mouth....while his sister looks on in...pure envy. (You get the point).

21. I love listening to music and singing. I like a wide array of music from alternative (Fleet Foxes, Kate Nash, Band of Horses) to high school favs (Tori Amos, Indigo Girls, Dave Matthews Band) to 80s (any of it) and 90s (grunge--Pearl Jam, STP, Candlebox)...also musicals, old favs like Simon and Garfunkel, etc.

22. I am currently craving Birthday Cake Remix from Coldstone. Yum.

23. I believe in ghosts. My dad had a personal experience and I love all paranormal shows (especially "Ghost Hunters") but I have never experienced anything myself.

24. I am mostly Irish. (75%) and then a little Polish and French (Canadian).

25. I love the Howard Stern show. And Artie Lange cupcakes.

Happy 2009!

2009-01-01T11:58:00.003-05:00

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
Became a strategic proposal writer, welcomed my brother's new fiancee to the family, adopted my cat, drove to Boston, bought an Altima, visited Charlotte, NC, started a book club, initiated Artie Lange Cupcake Day, made it through layoffs, assisted with Open Enrollment in D.C., attended a Lia Sophia party.

2. Did you keep your New Year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don't really do resolutions. I try to be the best person I can be every day, although it definitely shows more on certain days. I would like to get back on the Weight Watchers track, though. I've been kind of a slacker.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Scott and Kem just welcomed their baby boy on December 11th.

4. Did anyone close to you die? No.

5. What countries did you visit? The U.S. (namely North Carolina, Vermont, D.C., Massachusetts, Maryland, and Virginia).

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? I will let you know :).

7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? January 14th...my snowy 1st day at Aetna. That day really determined how the rest of my year would turn out. I feel like it was fairly successful.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Proving myself in my position at work and developing a career for myself.

9. What was your biggest failure? Falling off the Weight Watchers wagon.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Nothing worth writing about.

11. What was the best thing you bought? We were pretty frugal this year. I didn't buy my cat, but I would say that her vet bills are well worth the happiness she has brought us.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? The behavior of U.S. voters! (agreed, Sarah--can't really beat that one).

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? I don't want to go into it on a public blog.

14. Where did most of your money go? mortgage, car payment, taxes, groceries, gas (over the summer). Ugh I am a grown-up!!

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Besides the new job I was really excited about visiting with the girls in Vermont. It was a wonderful weekend getaway.

16. What song will always remind you of 2008? "Foundations" by Kate Nash.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? same ii. thinner or fatter? Fatter, I guess, but not by much, and post-holiday season, I will change that. iii. richer or poorer? richer, although with the economy I feel poorer.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of? Exercise

19. What do you wish you'd done less of? Eating unhealthy food, caring too much what people think about me.

20. How did you spend Christmas? At my parents' house celebrating my brother's engagement.

21. Did you fall in love in 2008? Have been in love for 9 years.

22. How many one-night stands? None.

23. What was your favorite TV program? Grey's, Lost, Ghost Hunters, The Biggest Loser

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? Hate is way too strong a word. I don't actually hate anyone.

25. What was the best book you read? "The Kite Runner" and "Memoirs of a Geisha"

26. What was your greatest musical discovery? Fleet Foxes, Kate Nash, A Fine Frenzy

27. What did you want and get? a new car!

28. What did you want and not get? nothing, I really have everything I want at the moment.

29. What was your favorite film of this year? I didn't see many movies, but the most anticipated would have to have been Sex and the City.

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 29. Jeff and I went out for breakfast, then spent all day Christmas shopping in Mistick Village...then went to Starbucks for caramel apple spices, and then to the Daniel Packer Inne for a romantic dinner by the fireplace in the pub downstairs. Oh, and we had homemade fudge from the general store.

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Being able to save more money. It has been hard.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? someone described me as preppy. Not sure about that...but classic, I guess.

33. What kept you sane? Who said I'm sane?

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I don't fancy celebrities. Boring, I know.

35. What political issue stirred you the most? The election and the economy.

36. Who did you miss? Heather, Corrine, Jess, and I did miss my brother but just saw him.

37. Who was the best new person you met? quite a few from the new job...

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: That is extremely hard to do and I am not feeling all that creative this afternoon. Sorry!

2008-12-27T15:56:00.002-05:00

I have a number of things I want to write about, and none of them are really connected so this entry may seem a little disjointed. You're probably thinking "Whatever, Tara, at least you're actually writing something for a change." I know I haven't been the most prolific blogger recently.

So I will start with a conversation I had with one of my favorite girls (well, favorite little girls). Caity turned 8 this year and she has been into "High School Musical" since it came out in 2006...so of course she wanted the "High School Musical 3" DVD for Christmas. I asked her about it when I went over there Christmas night, and she looked slightly disappointed when she replied that she had received the HSM video game and Barbie doll, but that the movie was sold out. I said "Well Santa must have had to deliver a lot of those this year; I'm sure it was a popular item on kids' wish lists." She half-smiled and replied seriously, "Yeah...but I just thought that the elves might be able to make the movie or something." I wanted to laugh and give her a huge hug at the same time. I love the fact that she still truly believes and can speak about the elves as if they are real people, working hard up on the North Pole. It's so refreshing to talk with someone who isn't jaded about the outside world, who doesn't fully understand current events or have to worry about anything more than not receiving her favorite DVD on Christmas morning. I hope she has a few more years left of that innocence and that she continues to enjoy the simple experiences that make up a treasured childhood.

This Christmas was special in many ways. I am fairly spoiled by Jeff and my family every year around this time between my birthday and Christmas. People with December birthdays often complain that they are overlooked during the holiday season, but that has never been the case with me. Growing up, my parents always made sure to have a separate family birthday party for me, as well as separate presents (and no Christmas wrapping paper on my birthday presents!) This year was no different, even though I turned 29. Of course I appreciate the attention, but that's not what made the holiday special this time around.

My brother proposed to his girlfriend Sakshi on Christmas Eve at the beach near our house. They came over with my parents to see our tree, and when we saw them coming up the sidewalk, Sakshi exclaimed in a somewhat shaky voice, "We have something to tell you!" Jeff guessed right away and whispered in my ear "They're engaged" but I was in shock. It's funny, I've spent almost my entire life with my brother (minus the 2 and 3/4 years that I was an only child), and somehow I had never imagined this day. That may sound unreasonable, but when he was growing up and people asked him "Are you going to get married someday, Ry?", the answer was always "No way!" followed by a nasty grimace. He went through girlfriends in high school and even in college, but I guess to me I never truly thought any of them would become a significant part of his life. But that was before he met Sakshi.

She is beautiful, and funny, and charming. When Ryan teases her, she gives it back to him like no one in his life ever has been able to (not even me). I think that characteristic has allowed him to respect her. In the past, his other girlfriends or girl friends merely took the teasing in stride and played the doormat role which didn't (and doesn't) impress my brother. If you want to be taken seriously, you need to be ready to argue and to prove your point. He has a strong personality and likes the challenge of someone who will put him in his place. Ryan and Sakshi complement each other in a way I never thought possible. I remember when he first called home to tell us about meeting her at grad school in September 2006, he said: "She looks exACTly like Princess Jasmine from "Aladdin", Tara." And he's right, she does. She's from India, has a perfect British accent (whe she says his name it sounds like "Rine" instead of "Ryan") and they both completed the MBA program together so she is obviously extremely smart. It almost brings tears to my eyes to think of my little brother finding this amazing love...and while I had noticed their relationship becoming serious for a while now, I guess I just never imagined this next step happening in the near future. It has made me realize how much he has matured even in the past year, to make this decision and to want to dedicate the rest of his life to her.

In my head, I can still see Ryan with a shock of blond hair making crazy faces, playing Sega Genesis, holding my hand on the beach when he was 4...I can see us dying Easter eggs, licking cake batter from the beaters, playing basketball, creating a universe out of Construx. I don't always see the 6 foot 5 muscular person that he has become. I can't always comprehend that he is 26 now, with a classy apartment in Charlotte and a well-paying job. But this Christmas Eve I opened my eyes and truly saw all of him for the first time--from the little brother he used to be to the adult that he has become. I really think that Sakshi has been an important piece in his development...I can even see elements in him that could only have been developed out of care and consideration for her. And all of it makes me extremely happy.

Christmas comes this time each year...

2008-12-06T18:22:00.002-05:00

I am sitting on the couch staring at the naked tree in my living room. Stockings are hung by the buffet with care (we don't have a fireplace), "The Christmas Song" is blaring through the TV speakers (thank you, seasonal holiday channel!) and I am sipping a glass of pinot grigio. Nutmeg just discovered the colorful light display that is spiraling out from the electrical outlet in disarray (checking to see if they still light up from last year), and I am awaiting Jeff's return home so we can decorate the tree together. Our 2nd Christmas here in our house...hard to believe. Oh, he's back! More later...

2008-11-09T12:15:00.007-05:00

Well I am back from Open Enrollment in D.C. which proved to be an even more worthwhile experience than I had originally imagined. Being there during and after the election was both meaningful and interesting for me (despite the fact that only weeks prior to the trip I was whining about being overpoliticized and about the constant TV coverage). On Wednesday the 5th I had a health fair at the Department of Justice from 9 a.m.-2 p.m. I left the hotel in the morning with a sense of optimism and an overall lighter feeling because I felt that change really was on the horizon for the first time since I was 20. I am looking forward to real action as opposed to rhetoric in the upcoming months and years, but this election was definitely a step in the right direction. After all, America has endured eight years of incompetence and uncertainty, and I know we have all felt the ramifications. I passed a number of newspaper vendors on the way to the Metro but didn't have room to carry one in addition to my health fair materials. I should have purchased one while I had the chance--after my meeting ended, they were completely sold out across the city and even in Alexandria, where my hotel was located.

After the health fair, I decided to follow Pennsylvania Avenue down to the Capitol Building to take some pictures and observe people's reactions. For the most part, people seemed subdued which I thought was strange...however, I believe there had been a lot of celebrating the night before, so it may have just been due to lack of energy. About halfway to the Capitol, I noticed a long line of people standing outside in front of a building, taking photos and video, and reading whatever exhibit was in front of them. I looked up and realized that I was at the Newseum in downtown D.C. Apparently the Newseum displays 730 front pages and headlines from 66 different countries on the sidewalk in front of the actual building daily, and I happened to be there for an unprecedented day. I captured whatever I could with my camera but it would be difficult to pin down the excitement and the passion that seemed to seep from the people around me in front of those headlines. I loved being in the middle of it all, especially since I am an avid news reader and watcher.

But of course the day wouldn't be complete without a Tara anecdote. I continued walking down to the Capitol, by one of the reflecting pools, past an art museum, to a park bench right outside the building. I called Jeff and relayed my excitement over the Newseum (definitely a place I want to actually check out the next time I am in the area) and then hung up when he had to take care of something for work. I decided to walk through the grounds a bit before returning to the street, and as soon as I walked under the first tree, I felt something heavy and wet land in my hair. "Hmmm," I thought. "Please don't let that be what I think it was." I reached up and touched my head and hair and of course it was green bird crap and I nearly lost it because I had no napkins or tissues or anything that would be conducive to getting the crap out of my hair. A token to remember the day by. At that moment, I wasn't thrilled, but people do claim that it's good luck, so we will see what happens in the coming months. As my friend Sarah says, I am cautiously optimistic.

2008-10-25T14:43:00.003-04:00

Ahhh, a lazy Saturday. Finally! It seems like every weekend since Labor Day has been completely booked with plans from Friday night until Sunday afternoon. But right now I am still in my sweats and hoodie and it's nearly 3 p.m.--love it. For the most part, I am incredibly happy to be out with my friends, driving across the state for parties, meeting people for lunch or dinner or drinks, etc., but every once in a while it becomes exhausting. I definitely needed a break, and this cloudy, dreary, dull-looking day is the perfect kind of day for sleeping in (also a rarity), lounging around watching TV, and cleaning the house. Also the perfect day to update this blog which I feel like I never have the time for.

So what's new since I last wrote...Jeff and I celebrated our second anniversary (already!!) on October 14th. We had dinner at Bravo Bravo in downtown Mystic and then stopped by the Hilton where we had our reception. Since it was a Tuesday night, the place was relatively quiet, so we went to the front desk and asked if they wouldn't mind letting us into the ballroom. They were so pleasant about it and opened the doors, turned on all the lights, and let us wander around. In typical Tara fashion, I had my tiara with me and placed it on my head for a photo opp. with Jeff. Being in that room made me feel an array of emotions from nostalgic to wistful to happy and to melancholy. It's hard to believe that I spent a mere six hours of my life in that room and yet it created such an amazing impression. I will never forget that day and I hope that we continue to celebrate it with as much enthusiasm each passing year.

The next few weeks at work should be fairly entertaining. This Tuesday, Nate and I are going to pick out our pumpkin for our team's pumpkin carving contest that is scheduled for Thursday...then on Wednesday my new team is having a team lunch...on Thursday we're having pizza with my current team and then doing the carving outside on the picnic tables...and on Friday the entire department will be judging our pumpkins for the winning entry. These are only a few of the reasons why I love working there so much. The following week (from the 3rd through the 6th), I am flying down to D.C. to assist with open enrollment meetings. So far I have one meeting scheduled for Wednesday at the Department of Justice which is right downtown. The meeting is from 9-2 and then I plan on changing into comfortable clothes and checking out all of the monuments again. It's been over six years since Jeff and I went there in the spring of 2002.

I will also have the opportunity to telework two days a week starting when I come back from D.C. I am really excited about this because although gas prices have started falling, I have managed to put over 10,000 miles on my car since I bought it at the end of April. It will be interesting to see what a difference working at home makes not only in our budget for the month, but also in the extra time that I will gain from not having to commute 2 hours a day. When I sign off my computer at 4:15, I can go directly downstairs to work out on the elliptical instead of getting in my car and driving for an hour first. I will be working at home on Tuesdays and Fridays so stay tuned for how all of that is going.

I managed to reconnect with two people (both were important to me at one time in my life) last week on facebook. I realize that it might sound lame because facebook has become synonymous with lazy communication and lack of human interaction, but it certainly does serve its purpose in allowing people to network and touch base once again. The first person was one of my best friends in 6th grade that I admired. We were only close for about a year, but I think when you are 11 and 12 years old, you truly gain insight into the person you will eventually become, and therefore those friends definitely help create who you are. She lives a few states away now, and we wrote messages back and forth and then I mentioned that my dad burned a bunch of our home videos onto DVDs last year, and that I have her singing in our living room as well as a solo she did in our 6th grade concert on DVD if she wanted copies. I don't recall her parents every videotaping school events, but since my dad taped EVERYTHING, I thought maybe she would be interested in looking at moments long gone by. I was right--she was so excited at the prospect of seeing her younger self, and she said her husband would be, too. I couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the day because I know how important all of those videos are to me (and I constantly thank my parents), so to give someone a piece of their life to them, I don't know, I just couldn't think of a better gift to give, especially after all these years.

The other person that I reconnected with was one of my 4th grade students from when I was student teaching at my own former elementary school. She is a great kid, and I saw her photo in my hometown newspaper this month for receiving a $1,000 scholarship. She is in 9th grade now, so I figured she might be on facebook. I sent her a message to congratulate her, figuring that at 14 she would most likely be too cool to write back to an old student teacher (especially four years later!) but I was happily surprised by her message:

"oh my goodness!!!!!oh my gosh i miss you so much!! I love Holy Cross it's awsome and yes I am doing dance. Trying to get better and better everyday. My teacher says im improving so much. Holy Cross is a lot of fun. I made so many new friends. Caitlyn and I had another student teacher together who was so funny but we like you better. Christina goes to Westover now and Lumbardh is at Woodland. Hmmm who else? Jamie is doing good too she also goes to Woodland. I can't believe you guys are married. that is so cool!! I wish I lived near the beach, your so lucky. I was just thinking about you the other day and how you made that desert for us and showed the layers of the earth, and how christina went up on stage to sing. How are you? Are you teaching? Your class can't be nearly as fun as ours was. haha I'm just kidding im sure it is."

How cute is that? I know that I am not meant to be a teacher because I really love what I do now and I can see myself being very successful at it, but this part of teaching is the one aspect of it that I will miss. There is no greater reward in life than to make a profound and positive impact on someone. She said she actually thought of me the other day...and I haven't seen her since the summer of 2004. That really is the point of life, I think, to truly make a difference to as many people as possible in our short time here.

2008-10-07T21:15:00.002-04:00

I am so tired of politics. And economics. And debates. But they are practically everywhere and nearly impossible to escape. Of course I care about what happens on November 4th-who doesn't-but since February, some form of political news show or parody has graced my television screen thanks to my politico-loving husband. From Rachel Maddow and Chris Matthews, to Tina Fey and Sarah Palin, from Barack Obama to John McCain, and Hillary to Bill and Keith Olbermann...I've had enough.

Just a few minutes ago I had to walk out of my living room because I can't stand watching debates, or any kind of competition for that matter (i.e., ice skating at the Olympics--I find it stressful waiting for the triple lutz to turn into a triple klutz with a crash at the end). Real life continues to play itself out daily, but it seems like no one is taking the time to notice. There is more to life than the Dow Jones industrial average, than the plentiful "drill baby drill" Sarah Palin speeches (if you Google "Sarah Palin quotes", you will find 2,630,000 results), than the constant bickering between Republicans and Democrats. Call me selfish, because I guess in many ways, I am, but I don't always view things in a high level fashion; if it doesn't pertain directly to me, I become increasingly stubborn and disinterested. And this is not to say that I am not going to vote (because of course I am) or that I don't have an opinion on these subjects or on the politicians themselves (I do). However, these subjects are not all I think about. I would rather hear about a friend's problem, read a stimulating book, watch almost anything else on TV, go on the elliptical machine, and play with my cat, than get caught up in the next few weeks of drama which I am sure will only escalate as we approach Election Day. I am not interested in the barrage of emails I've been receiving that are anti-Palin, pro-Obama, pro-women, put your name on this list, sign here, do that, join us, whatever. I think that politics are a personal issue, and should stay that way.

That said, in the spare few hours that I have been able to wrangle the TV (just kidding, Jeffrey :), I of course have gotten sucked into all the "Drama in Real Life"-type shows on the Investigation Discovery channel. What a surprise, right? I can seriously sit through 48 Hours: Hard Evidence, Extreme Forensics, Life of a Crime, and Wicked Attraction for hours at a time. I guess because all of the stories involve real people and surreal stories. I am fascinated by the victim in most cases and the murderer in others (Derrick Robie and Eric Smith, for example). I wonder if my strange interest stems from the Beaudoin murder of 1977. It happened next door to my childhood home...before I was born, obviously, but my parents had just met the children the night before they were killed when they came over to see if they could play in our backyard. Extremely eerie. My parents were one of the few couples to call 911 when they woke to the crackling of fire and smoke early that July morning. (Lorne J. Acquin killed 9 people--8 of them children--when all was said and done, and then set fire to the house). I guess I always want to understand people, to get to the bottom of who they are and what makes them act the way they do...but these shows never really get me any closer.

Well, looking back on this entry, I guess I am actually the weird one. I know that the majority of America is probably watching the debate right now, and weighing their options regarding Election Day while I am blogging about child murders and creepy TV shows. I'm not even sure if this has been coherent or if it makes a point at all, but I was overdue in posting, mostly because my mind has been so cluttered with politics and Newsweek and SNL sketches. I will be back soon with more about my own life as promised, but until then good night.

2008-09-14T13:45:00.002-04:00

I love rainy days and taking walks with close friends (Holly) and the Yale Co-op bookstore and Kate Spade organizers ($75.00) and pencil cases ($45.00) and adorable (cliche) magnets that read "Be the change you want to see in the world" and "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." I love cute tan J.Crew jackets with ruffles that cost $198 for no apparent reason, and I love expensive medium chai lattes that cost $3.89 when a hazelnut coffee is merely $0.90. In this economy, it's difficult to find money to spend on groceries or on a haircut (I am probably at least 2 weeks overdue on that front), never mind for indulgences such as the ones listed above. I don't need Vera Bradley thank you cards to adequately thank my loved ones, I don't need to buy every book that I read (what? the library?) and yet I do. Lately, Jeff and I have been working together to find ways to cut costs and save more since this economy is negatively affecting our usual budget. September is our trial month--we are doing our best to be frugal and go out as infrequently as possible, and to date we have been fairly successful. We're not Ralph Waldo Emersons by any stretch of the imagination, but we realize that to live and still feel productive in today's world, we have to take it down a level. So if that means we can't always go out during the week when friends ask, or if we just order one martini instead of four :), it's nothing personal. It's just business.

Conversations with the best 9-year-old ever

2008-08-18T20:23:00.002-04:00

I've known Megan since she was 2 years old; her parents moved into the house across from my parents' when I was up at UConn. She and her younger sisters, Caity and Norah, are like my little sisters. Megan has always been incredibly smart for her age...she talks to people as if she herself were an adult, and she even has the ability to absorb information and vocabulary like you wouldn't believe. Just recently she figured out how to instant message me through her dad's email address on MSN Messenger. See for yourself what an amazing kid she is:

Tara says: are you excited about turning 10? I remember I was scared to enter the double digits.

Megan says: not really I feel a little sad

Tara says: yeah I think I felt nostalgic, too...like my childhood is going away. boooo

Megan says: mine too, faster than you think

Tara says: exactly. but you'll have a lot of fun these next 10 years..and 5th grade was one of my favorite times in childhood, too.

Megan says: really mine was 3rd

Tara says: oh yeah? what was your favorite part of 3rd grade?

Megan says: my teacher, Mr.Senich

….... a few minutes later.......

Tara says: well I can let you go watch TV if you want

Megan says: no no its my turn to go on the computer

Tara says: okay, I just don't want you to get bored of me

Megan says: are you kidding i never get board of you

Tara says: aww thanks!

Megan says: :)

...............

Tara says: hey have you read any good books lately? I'm always interested in hearing about them to see if I read them when I was your age.

Megan says: yes im reading the sisterhood

Tara says: yay! really? maybe I can take you to see the 2nd movie

Tara says: have you seen the first one?

Megan says: no

Tara says: well I have it on DVD, I can bring it home next time I'm at my parents' house

Megan says: please

Tara says: definitely, we can watch it together, make some popcorn and everything

Megan says: maybe we could have a movie night

Tara says: exactly!

Megan says: :)

Moments later...

Megan says: im having a party friday

Tara says: is that the pool party?

Megan says: yes

Tara says: how many kids are going?

Megan says: and instead of presents i want 8 kids to write checks to my friend Alyssa

Tara says: is she sick?

Megan says: she has cancer

Tara says: oh how terrible--when did she find out?

Megan says: ya but it is treatable, she found out this May

Tara says: oh thank goodness it's treatable...how scary, though

Megan says: ya, she lost all her hair from the treatments

Tara says: aww, does she have a wig?

Megan says: yes, but she does not wear it in the summer

Tara says: too uncomfortable and hot

Megan says: she went to camp for kids with cancer

Tara says: have kids been nice to her since she found out she has cancer?

Tara says: did she go to the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp?

Megan says: yes, they recently had a ziti dinner for her at the Firehouse

Tara says: did your family go?

Megan says: no, we made a donation

Tara says: well it all certainly counts

Tara says: I just volunteered at a camp for kids with cancer; I'm just wondering if it's the same one Alyssa went to.

Megan says: oh really, I am not sure what camp she went to

Tara says: yeah that is a famous one, and it's in Connecticut...it might be the one.

Megan says: she went to a sleep away camp

Tara says: Well I hope she gets well, and that your friends are able to contribute a lot of checks to you on Friday that you can give to her.

Tara says: yep, it was a sleepaway camp

Megan says: I'll ask her when she gets home

Tara says: we put together the bunk beds in the cabins for the kids

Tara says: definitely do that and ask her about the camp--it's an awesome place.

Megan says: I will. I have to go now. I need to create my invitations so mom can mail in the morning. Good night! We will plan on the movie night

Tara says: okay sounds great...have a good night! I will talk to you soon

Megan says: bye

Note: You can't tell me she's not amazing. I talked to her mom tonight on the phone to ask if it was okay to have a "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" movie night with her for her 10th birthday, and her mom told me that it really was Megan's idea to donate all of her "birthday presents" to Alyssa. I love her!!!

2008-08-09T22:20:00.002-04:00

Holy crap. I don't think I could possibly feel much worse. Too much sangria. Wine. Peaches. Apples. Lemons. Limes. Roxette. Boyz II Men. Don Henley. I am sad now, and exhausted. I just tried to call Jeff but he's at the Radiohead concert. I am sitting here completely, well, inebriated for lack of a better word. I want to go home but the problem is that I AM home!! I am not driving anywhere so it should be okay but noooooooo. I want Jeffrey. Oh I want him to take care of me noooowwww. So pathetic. Ahhhh "Ray of Light" by Madonna. Appropriate. But still not making me feel any better. Want pajamas. And other comfy things. Like blankets. And someone to brush my teeth for me. And oh wow just want to go to sleep. Stupid Tara. Too mucccch sangria. Too much wine. I want Kara to call me so I know she is safe. What the hell. I just re-read this and don't remember writing any of it even though I just thought of it 5 minutes ago. Madonna is "appropriate"? Did I say that? I want dinner. I told Rachel I wanted Chinese food. She replied with "LOL." I didn't think it was that funny. What the hell am I going to eat, really? And my face is sunburned. Ohhhhh. Want to sleep night night. Crying from Aerosmith is on.

Nice. P.S. Kara just texted me. She's home safely. Yay. Pass out now for sure.

2008-07-17T20:22:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I don't find my daily life to be all that exciting which would explain the lack of posts recently. It's like, hmmmm...wake up, feed the cat, brush my teeth, shower, get dressed, say goodbye to Jeff, listen to Coldplay on the way to work, get coffee, arrive at work, say hi to Steve, Mark, and Melissa (cubemates), talk about the cat (still a new subject), respond to RFPs, harass Diana on IM, ask Nate questions about our programs, go to crazy busy cafeteria for lunch, respond to RFPs, drive home, feed the cat, say hi to Jeff, go on elliptical, shower (again), read, watch TV, go to bed, repeat.

Occasionally I'll have a meaningful conversation during the week but most of my day consists of witty banter and lots of eye rolling (me). It's fun but not truly worth writing about. Although...in my book club, we just finished reading "Bitter is the New Black" which is basically a memoir about this girl's life during her two year period of unemployment. I told the other girls that I would love to be published someday, but that my journals throughout the years were written about mundane subjects (similar to the tone of this blog).

How do you take a 7th grade break-up and make it resonate with your audience? Do you have to embellish certain details or even fabricate parts of your "memoir" to capture the reader's imagination? When I write about my life, it seems false to me to add intrigue that wasn't originally there...for example, my parents have a happy marriage. Jeff and I never broke up in the eight years that we've been together. I went through the same teen drama and crappy parent/teacher conference conversations as the next person, but does that truly provide valid material for publication? Well, it's my life so I would love to think that it does, but when it comes down to it, despite all my own quirks and experiences, I am merely living a similar existence to many other women out there.

I really don't know why I have always had this desire for people to read about my life. It makes no sense to me because in general, I'm not big on being the center of attention. In fact, I hate when everyone is staring at me or giving me compliments (really, my face turns the color salmon, as someone described it just yesterday). When I read my old journal entries, I see a bright, observant girl--somewhat of a dork in the earlier years, but I guess my favorite part is that reading the journals allows me to follow this "character" through life as she experiences things for the first time. Even though I am the "character", I am far removed from her because she is not truly who I am anymore (if that makes sense).

I've mentioned before that what is real fascinates me...people's thoughts, what drives them, what makes them crazy...and as we all know, my obsession with all things real occasionally gets me into trouble. And anyway I'm not quite sure where I'm going with all of this, but I have to keep writing or I'll lose the ability altogether. I used to be better at it. My pen used to fly furiously across the blank pages, and I miss that feeling of release that used to come from pouring my heart out in my journal. That could be the other reason I want people to read it; I know it's supposed to be for you, but I put so much time and energy (literally years) into writing it that it seems pitiful to just throw it all away.

I don't know. It's a constant debate, and not one that's going to be settled tonight.

2008-06-29T13:16:00.003-04:00

I am feeling better this week-thank you all for your comments, emails, and advice. Yesterday morning I was shopping at the Colonial Market downtown (which is directly across from the beach), and I realized how happy I was just to be running errands. I walked slowly through the aisle, glancing at the gourmet ravioli; fresh bruschetta; and artichoke hearts, olives, and mozzarella lined up neatly in the Greek/Italian station. This may sound silly...but I actually felt kind of classy. There's something about that New Englandy feeling--sunglasses on top of my head, cute red flats and a fairly put-together outfit wandering around inside an oceanside market--that made me feel like I have truly come to embrace my life. Remember back in October when I was writing about how I longed for new material things such as a snazzy car or professional wardrobe (in addition to an exciting new career, of course)? Well, now I have all of that. And this may sound even more Connecticut snobbish, but my next stop yesterday morning was through the drive-thru at Starbucks...how cliche is that? I felt like if I only had a cardigan tied around my shoulders, then I could seriously pass for a Nantucket stepford wife or something. However, just as certain people think corporate America is evil or overrated (and I am still very much in the habit of romanticizing the entire experience), I think that the snobbish New England image is okay, as long as you yourself are not a snob. I've decided that it's possible to look the part and yet still be a very down-to-earth and friendly person.

As many of you already know by now, we've also added a kitten to our "family"--a 9-week-old calico that we affectionately named Nutmeg. I am thrilled to have a cat to come home to after a long day, and it makes daily life even that much more interesting and fun. I guess the only aspect of our lives that is missing is children, and that day will come soon enough, I'm sure. But for now I am just going to enjoy being a New England snob in evil corporate America, because I am the happiest I've been in years. Life is great.

Here we go again...

2008-06-20T22:58:00.002-04:00

The following is a post that I wrote for a message board where I am anonymous to most people. However, I decided that although I appreciate their input, I also want to know what the people I know in real life actually think about this situation (so please excuse the fact that I'm talking to you like I don't know you...I am too tired to make the language more 'familiar'):

I am a pretty sensitive/nostalgic person, I'll be the first to admit it. I didn't have the best job for the past couple of years, but I started an amazing position in January and have been so grateful and enthusiastic to be there that some people probably think I'm crazy.

That being said, I completed an 8-week training program with 13 colleagues, and I even became teary when the training was over and we had to move upstairs to our actual floor and positions. Silly, I know!

Today one of the trainers, and one of my favorite guys on the team, announced that he was leaving, and since he is going to a competitor, he had to basically pack up his things and go immediately. I will admit that I had tears streaming down my face. I had gotten to know him well during our training, and we had the same sarcastic/dry sense of humor. Some of the sales directors on the floor saw me and looked at me like I was a freak. One of my friends there said it's just because I have a big heart, and when I called Jeff he said, "Awww, you probably cried, didn't you?"

I'm not sure if it shows weakness to become upset in a professional position, but I find it hard to detach myself from good, intelligent, and witty people that you interact with on a daily basis. Am I wrong?

2008-06-07T20:59:00.002-04:00

Today I ran the Susan G. Komen 5K Race for the Cure at Bushnell Park (shout out to Jeff, Renee, Diana, Emily, Steph and Peter. Good job, guys!) and while my time wasn't spectacular, I am proud to say that I completed the race and definitely finished the final stretch with an enthusiastic burst of energy.

I would have been more prepared, but Diana and I kind of neglected training weeks ago once busy season kicked in at work. I found myself lacking energy at the end of the day, and it was too easy to blow off the gym when we both complained of our complete tiredness. However, I am putting this in writing because I WANT to be more proactive about training and exercising, and I am usually more successful at doing so if I commit to it in writing. I have been fighting a battle with 5-7 extra pounds since the holidays and I need to have some sort of breakthrough before I literally go insane. All the gymming it and diligence I exhibit as I plan my every meal just hasn't been paying off lately (and by lately I mean since January) and I am definitely at the verge of frustration which is not a fun place to be. I've been there before and don't ever want to go back.

In other news, I couldn't be happier with my progress at work. The position itself is stimulating and interesting, but the environment is miles away from any other work environment I've encountered. For example, on Friday alone, we unveiled June's IC Wall (Information Consultant) and the theme was Hollywood. There are photoshopped renditions of the entire IC team and the 2 managers (about 30 people altogether) in various versions of Lord of the Rings, Shrek, Harry Potter, Star Wars, and Titanic. The accompanying quiz asks us to match the National Accounts employee to their celebrity lookalike (someone once told me I looked like Michelle Williams from her "Dawson's Creek" days...I don't think anyone is going to guess that one correctly!)

For lunch, I actually ventured off campus to the diner with Diana, Glen, Peter and Brian which was nice because it had been a long week. (side note: I am freaking out right now because some guy is literally shouting on the street in our quiet neighborhood, and while I would have expected that at our old apartment, it is a bit jarring here). Anyway, this week I also proposed an Artie Lange Cupcake Day...Artie Lange is on the Stern show for the non-Stern fan members of my audience :) and Crumbs Bakery in Manhattan has named a cupcake after him that he buys all the time. So I heard Jason in my row singing a Bababooey song (another Stern reference) and I IMed him my cupcake idea...he thought it was awesome so I sent around an Outlook email with voting buttons (woo-hoo, high tech!) to all the known Stern fans in the department, and I am ordering enough cupcakes for 8 people for this upcoming Thursday, June 12th. The Official Artie Lange Cupcake Day.

Oh, and since we work at an insurance company that supports Wellness initiatives, our department had scheduled a kickball tournament DURING WORK HOURS last Wednesday from 2:30-4:30. I, of course, chose not to participate (I could still hear jeers and taunts from 6th grade gym class and "Tara, you got us all out!" and "Ohhhhhh!!!" every time I would kick the ball, someone would catch it and the entire team would be out). Even my gym teacher hated me...no joke! But it's still pretty cool to have the opportunity to play.

I just love how FUN most of the people in the department are, and how driven the majority of them are. The environment is a perfect balance for me. I accomplish so much on a daily basis and have really learned a lot about the process, but there's always something interesting around the corner. I have a great (very patient) mentor, and so far I've developed a good rapport with my manager. Really, on the work front, things could not be better. What a complete difference from a year ago. The other difference is the validation...I cannot tell you how many supportive comments/praise/feedback I have received since starting at Aetna in January. The trainers were thorough in their evaluations, colleagues that I have worked on RFPs with have written me emails saying "you're the best" or "Thanks so much for your help on this case", and it literally blows me away. To come from an environment where I put in 110% every day and was never rewarded in any kind of way (be it words, money, recognition, etc.), this aspect of my job hasn't ceased to amaze me for a moment. I think that some people take it for granted, but I will never, and I think that it gives me a positive perspective that some people don't have there.

Okay, well I've gone on and on about various topics. Thanks for listening, as usual. Our pizza is here and it's time to watch "Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King." Happy Saturday night, everyone!

Koyaanisqatsi...see below

2008-05-24T20:41:00.000-04:00

2008-05-24T19:38:00.003-04:00

Last week, before we left for my brother's graduation in North Carolina, my dad and I sat in the living room (my parents' living room) silently. We are a lot alike, my father and I. Observers--patient--always thinking. So I knew he was contemplating my brother's latest milestone in his usual quiet manner before he even said "When Ryan was packing the other day, I thought 'So this is really it..." implying that now that he and I have both left, our parents' role in our lives has evolved into something different than "Daddy, I fell down the stairs-I need a band-aid" and the games we created during thousands of backseat car rides. My dad's nostalgia always gets me because, like mine, his memory is vast and he is able to capture the details and describe them in a way that I can truly remember. Not many people I know can do this...people have a tendency to forget. Oh did that really happen? I'm glad you remember that, because I certainly don't. I don't know how people forget the moments in their lives when in the end, they make up everything you are.

As we were sitting there, we fell back into silence after I reassured him that Ryan would be back, and may even eventually find a position in New York City or somewhere closer...but Dad was adamant. "Yeah, but...it's still not here." And don't get me wrong, he is not wishing for my brother to stay at home and find a local job at all. But there's a part of him, as there's always a part of me, that wistfully wishes that some things could stay the same even as our lives take different paths. After a few more moments, I began thinking of all the events that had happened even in that very room that defined me. We moved there in August 1993, before my freshman year at Masuk. I recall the living room being bare, the French doors shiny, and our neighbors bringing banana bread into the chaos that was our new home. I can fastforward a few years and see myself sitting cross-legged at my 16th birthday party, surrounded by my friends, laughing and watching "A Miracle on 34th Street" in the background. I can visually see Rachel, Kim and I making up a dance on my back deck.

As I quietly played these images through my mind, I turned to my dad and said, "Did you ever think about how many people have been through this space, this living room, over the years?" I explained how I can sometimes see events play out in a sort of time lapse...people coming in, sitting on the couch, going to the refrigerator for a drink, coming back, leaving, watching movies, going outside, flirting, laughing, hugging, crying. I said, "It kind of reminds me of Koyaanisqatsi."

This film was fascinating to me, even as a child. My dad played it for my brother and I sometime in the mid-80's, and the haunting, melancholy score stayed with me for years. It basically shows the juxtaposition of people and technology and what humans have done to the Earth by merely developing as we have. In certain scenes, the time lapse speeds up to show hundreds of people flying through the grocery store, up the escalator, through the streets of big cities. Anyway, I thought of my old house like that...capturing the moments from chorus concerts to high school graduation to new boyfriends and break-ups to college and another graduation. How would my life look if I were able to capture it in the style of Koyaanisqatsi?

The trip to North Carolina was great. I proudly watched my brother's face at the hooding ceremony last Sunday night, right before he received his MBA. I saw the person he has become, and not just the little brother that he always has been to me. He has come a long way from sniffing packs of Carefree bubble gum when he was 3...from making forts with his stuffed animals, playing Contra and Ninja Gaiden, and saying "NO! Duh, duh, duuhhhhh!" in that manic, shrill voice as he cocked his head.

We have both succeeded.

2008-05-04T16:55:00.003-04:00

I hate dust. I am sitting here attempting to write and to concentrate on stringing words together, when all I can see is a sheen of dust on the hardwood floor beneath my couch. It's driving me crazy even though I just vacuumed and dusted yesterday. I am that type of person. The type who takes care of homework first as opposed to going outside to play on the swings first. The type who mows the lawn before going out to lunch with friends. Of course I will definitely swing on the swings and meet my friends for lunch, but only after I have completed the necessary tasks; all in due time. I hate having chores or responsibilities hanging over my head when I am supposed to be enjoying myself. So here it is, Sunday evening, and all I want is to relax and sit and write, while the sensible side of me feels like I should march downstairs, grab the vacuum cleaner again and go to town on the dust bunnies, wreaking havoc on their little dust bunny village. But I won't.

This weekend has been rewardingly long despite the fact that I slept in until 9:30 and 10:00 both days (that is unprecedented for me). We didn't have a lot going on so I spent the majority of yesterday afternoon and this morning propped up on my couch (with the dust bunny village below) reading a very interesting story called The Thirteenth Tale. I call it a story rather than a novel or a book because it certainly was written by a storyteller. I loved the twists and turns surrounding the twins, and I really became enraptured while reading. It's not often (especially lately) that a book has been capable of consuming me, and I thoroughly loved the feeling...of escape. And honestly, in my life there's not a whole lot to escape from. But every once in a while, it's comforting to live someone else's pain, to embrace someone else's emotion, even if that "someone else" is merely a fictional character.

Occasionally life gets too real. This past month or so it seemed as if I was constantly grappling with various thoughts regarding certain friendships/relationships in my life. I am confident in my communication skills to a degree, but when my words have the ability to instill hurt in someone, I often hold back. I guess you can say I've been kind of a lazy friend lately...giving advice when sought after, but otherwise remaining objective and stoic to a degree. For some reason I just don't have the energy most days to truly delve into everyone's situation. But this tiredness makes me feel that I am missing out on real conversations, that I am taking the easy way out by sidestepping confrontations and concern.

Overall I know it's just the fast-paced busy season at work that has been affecting my motivation in the evenings...and I know that it will pass once I have been immersed in the environment for a few months. I've been feeling drained lately--a good drained, but drained nevertheless--in many ways. I have to push myself to run or go to the gym after work, and while I have been trying to focus on eating healthy options, there's been a slight setback with various obstacles at work: Panera bagels "for a job well done," a Chili's lunch tomorrow for Cinco de Mayo, a farewell party for a colleague, etc. I still love corporate America and I'm trying to figure it all out, but in some ways it offers as many temptations as America itself. When I'm working hard to meet a deadline and to mail 2-3 cases in a week, and the head of National Accounts says "Hey, have a bagel for all your hard work", it's not always easy to pass up.

I am trying to keep the Tara I know and love in check. I want to be healthy, motivated, hard-working, successful, and a good friend all at the same time. I guess I'm just trying to balance each compartment and integrate them the best that I can. I know that sometimes one piece of the puzzle is bound to slip out of place for a passing moment, but as long as I am aware that I'm not complete without all of the pieces together, I guess that's one step in the right direction. It's my focus during these next couple of months to put 100% into everything that I do. I don't want to let anyone down, the least of all myself.

2008-04-27T16:00:00.003-04:00

It's been a whirlwind of a month. April has practically come and gone and I barely have one entry to show for it. It's all right, though...admittedly, sometimes living life is more important than writing about it.

Here are some new developments in the life of Tara:

I've been running a few miles after work 3-4 times a week with Diana
We invited additional members to join my book club (our next choice is a memoir entitled Her Last Death by Susanna Sonnenberg; I am intrigued)
Responding to numerous RFPs during busy season at work
Buying a new (pre-owned) 2006 silver Nissan Altima--yay!!!--which forced me to clean out my old car that I had for 7+ years (I never realized how careless/messy I was until digging out three small bagfuls of loose change from the seats, side compartments, etc.)
Consolidating our boxes of memories/cards/photo albums that had taken over the spare room downstairs. We might actually be able to create a guest room now!
Watering our lawn and pretty tulips daily because the crab grass had taken over

So nothing too wild and crazy, but so far it's been a decent spring. Right now I'm sitting on my couch wearing a long-sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, and jeans and I'm chilly...and all I can say is that I wouldn't mind if it were a little warmer out.

2008-04-13T15:36:00.000-04:00

I tried on my wedding dress yesterday afternoon. It had been hanging in a downstairs closet at my parents' house since the day after our wedding, and I finally sprang it free when I went home on Friday. My parents didn't necessarily want to store it for me, but we had no room for it at our New London apartment, and so there it sat for a year and a half next to my entourage of prom dresses. Now it will live in our cedar closet downstairs.

I have to admit, it still looked pretty. (If also pretty wrinkled.) Due to the fact that I didn't want to spend money on officially "preserving" the dress, the material certainly scrunched up quite a bit, and the bottom layer is covered in dance floor dust. As I glanced in the mirror at the delicate cap sleeves and the fitted bodice, I could immediately replay the events of the day. Breakfast at Friendly's with the girls. Hair and make-up. Walking down the aisle with Dad. Holding Jeff's hand at the altar. Tears came to my eyes and I couldn't tell if it was because I was happy from reliving the memory or sad with the realization that those events will never play out in real time again.

I went out on the deck barefoot in the dress and called for Jeff who was doing yardwork. I actually scared him half to death because he was literally right below me and I didn't see him...so at first he sounded a bit annoyed and was just like "What?!" but then he looked up, stopped what he was doing and came up the deck stairs. I became teary again and twirled around for him like a 6-year-old would before her dance recital. We hugged, and then I came back inside, peeled it off and gently placed it back in the garment bag. I'll admit that I kind of embraced the garment bag before bringing it downstairs to its new home.

We'll be married for exactly a year and a half tomorrow. I can't believe how quickly the time has flown since that day. It seems like we were just testing out cake slices and meeting with our photographer, and now here we are and those are no longer concerns of ours. Three of my close friends have children that they didn't have on my wedding day, my brother is graduating with his MBA next month which he had just started that fall, I have a new career, and everything and everyone is moving forward.

There's really no point to my saying this other than the fact that I have truly been trying to make every day count. Because before you know it, 548 days have gone by, you've brushed your teeth 1,096 times since your wedding night, and if you're not careful to appreciate every day, some of the little things might pass you by. I know this sounds melodramatic, but there's so much that I want to do with my time here, and so many people that I love and want to see, that I just hope I reach all of my goals.

Irish coffee

2008-03-22T23:46:00.003-04:00

Irish coffee personifies everything about my honeymoon to me. One of my favorite moments in Ireland took place on our second to last day in Dublin. Jeff and I had spent the entire day trekking through the city in the absolute pouring rain, my hood squinched up around my face and both of our jeans soaked up to our knees. The first ten days of our trip had been been absolutely beautiful, but of course we had to experience a torrential downpour at some point or it wouldn't have felt authentically Irish. Since it was late October, of course the rain was freezing cold as it pelted our heads and sloshed up against our sneakers...we had to seek coverage under random buildings where homeless people huddled in their blankets among their belongings.

We found McDaid's pub on Harry Street just in time--a longtime literary hangout of some of Ireland's writers and playwrights from the 1940s. It was the coziest little bar with such an intimate feel. Dim lighting, candles flickering on the tables, five or six tables pushed up against the side of the wall, and my warm Irish coffee. I recall sitting there with Jeff's arm around me with the rain and wind crazily howling outside and thinking, "This is it. This is love."

Tonight we went to Hanafin's, the local Irish pub in New London. I ordered an Irish coffee and Jeff ordered his standard Magner's hard cider. He put his arm around me and we quietly observed people and sang along to the music as the band played loudly. The Tullamore whiskey warmed my throat and I thought back to Ireland and how content we were then...and I realized that I love him even more now. Whether we're in Ireland or Connecticut, it doesn't matter, because when I put my arms around him, he feels like home.

Creepy.

2008-03-15T20:54:00.002-04:00

Last night I slept over my parents' house because my mom and I were driving to a baby shower in Concord, MA this morning. The bed in my old room is actually the same bed that they bought me when I was three. The same bed that they hooked a yellow gingham guardrail to so that I didn't roll out and flop onto the floor. The same bed that had been moved from our old house to our new house and also positioned throughout various places in my bedroom over the decades. Same mattress, too. So you can imagine it's fairly stiff and uncomfortable after...let's see...25 years.

Anyway, I spent the entire night tossing and turning, dreaming about work and Jeff and rain and some strange hotel and three caterpillars on my pillow (in the dream, not for real!). I woke up this morning and wondered "What the hell could caterpillars possibly represent in a dream?" I looked it up online and I don't think I could have been more surprised by the accuracy of the definition:

Caterpillar
To see a caterpillar in your dream, signifies a stage in your own personal growth and development where you are on your way, but have not yet reached your goal.

Now I am not one to believe everything that I read, but that thought has certainly been going through my mind lately, both inside my head and out. I'm just trying to figure out how my mind was subconsciously able to transform that thought into three caterpillars and send them to my dream hotel pillow. Very random. The brain is a tricky and interesting thing.

2008-03-08T09:16:00.002-05:00

I'm the only one who cried yesterday afternoon when our "class" packed up all of the materials that we've acquired over the past eight weeks--binders, notebooks, handouts, Valentine's Day cards, pens, highlighters, candy, photos--and headed upstairs to the fourth floor to find our individual cubicles. It was embarrassing to say the least, but thankfully I've been with these people long enough for them to know that I'm not usually a basket case, and that if I'm crying it's probably for a good reason. I seriously must be the most sensitive person I know which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it's definitely something to contend with. I become attached to everything and everyone and every experience, and for some reason I find transitions hard even though I know that this is only going to continue to be a wonderful experience.

I can't say enough about the quality of the people that I work with. Our class has become really tight which I think is only natural. We've worked together, bounced ideas off of each other, complimented each other, provided moral support or a shoulder to cry on when things became frustrating (no, I'm not the only one who cried during the course of the eight weeks! ;), and ate lunch together every single day. I know that they all have my back because yesterday we were at happy hour after officially moving to the floor, and I got teary again. Wait, wait, there's a good reason for this. Remember I had written that there were only four of us ICs, and that we had been banished to one room towards the beginning of training without a Survivor buff? Well, obviously the four of us stuck together and developed this amazing rapport...through humor, teasing, assisting, and once again, bouncing ideas back and forth. We found out last Friday that Alan ("Ace") is moving to the Hartford office. Alan is hilarious. He provides the comic relief in every situation, he is the one who continuously called me Tarabyte even when it became less popular, and his key phrase whenever I would respond correctly to a question or give him advice was "You're good. You're good" which he delivered in such a deadpan way while pointing at me. Anyway, he had to leave HH early to go to another function, and I became teary. Alan gave me a hug, Emily kept saying "She's so sweet, I love this girl," I heard someone else say that I care so much about each and every person, and Samantha told us that I was making everyone else cry. Frank leaned over to me and patted my head and told me that I'm a sweet girl for caring so much...I mean these people are so supportive, and the fact that they were truly there for me meant a lot.

I stayed out later than mostly everyone and danced with some of the people who are already established on the floor at Aetna. They were so friendly and accepting, and even took my hand to lead me out to the dance floor. I think that every career move I've made so far in my life has brought me out of my shell a bit more. The Tara I knew when I was growing up would never have been confident enough to dance in front of people, to tease them, and to just let go. But this move especially has allowed me to grow as a person, both personally and professionally. I am incredibly happy and satisfied with my job in a way that I never thought possible. I have found the place where I belong and I have found an amazing group of colleagues and friends as well.

When I was still at the bar (after a lot the people from my class left), I received a voicemail from Diana asking if I was driving home or if I was still there, or if I was okay...and she said that she wanted to know that I was all right, or that she'd worry about me. Then around midnight I received a text from Edgar saying "I hope you are ok. I should have stayed" and another one around 1:00, Samantha texted me and said "Are you okay?" They are awesome. Each and every one of them. I can't believe how much I have come to care for all of them in such a short time. I didn't even know these people at Christmas or New Year's...and now they are so important in my life.

I think that's all for now. Unfortunately I have a pretty bad sore throat this morning and I have a feeling it's the beginning of a cold. But here's to a relaxing, rainy day of hanging out in sweats, a long-sleeved t-shirt and my messy hair pulled back by a headband. I plan on catching up on all of the TV shows I missed over the past week (working on our trade show and studying for the 3-hour final exam!), and maybe going to CVS later to get some meds. Other than that, I've got nothing but that's fine with me. I'm content to just sit back and relax. It was a long, challenging, and wonderful eight weeks.

Talk is Cheap

2008-02-24T16:59:00.002-05:00

I know I've mentioned this before, but it doesn't take a lot to make me happy. Interesting conversations. A mug of coffee. Laughter. Trekking to the bar with a friend, collecting snowflakes in our hair. A comfy couch. Warm pajamas. All of the above.

On Friday they let us leave training at 2:30 because the snow was coming down like crazy. All day long I contemplated whether or not to attempt the drive home or to stay over a friend's house. My friend Diana (from training) lives fairly close by in Middletown, and she convinced me to stay over. The whole night was honestly a bit like a sleepover, and very relaxing. Mostly because we didn't have to be anywhere, and we could just sit. And talk. Diana made us tea when we first arrived at her place and then we talked cross-legged on her couch, pet her cat, watched TV, and talked some more until dinnertime. We bundled up in layers and walked a few blocks to Eli's, stomping through snow. Over dinner we held more in-depth conversations about our past, observations we've made, experiences we've had over the years and just life stories in general. I loved it. To me, one of the most fascinating things in the world is learning about the defining experiences that make a person who they are.

After we got home from the bar, she lent me some pajamas (and an Army sweatshirt), I threw my hair up in a messy ponytail, we sipped sake (that was my first time trying it!), watched a movie and eventually went to sleep. Yesterday morning was a lot of the same--we talked, shared stories, watched part of "The Amityville Horror" and discussed our views on the paranormal. We discovered that we would both love to become published writers for different reasons, and we sipped coffee from purple mugs. I don't know if I've ever had that much fun being snowed in somewhere before.

Yesterday afternoon I ventured over to Angela's to continue my talking and coffee lovefest. We ordered paninis and vanilla chai at a cute cafe and talked for over an hour and a half about a variety of subjects. Angela and I never run out of things to say to each other despite having known each other for over ten years now, and I love that about our friendship. I think that even with good, well-established friendships, there is always an opportunity to learn something new about someone, especially if you are willing to actively listen. There's a difference between nodding your head and saying "uh-huh" and truly becoming engaged in the conversation.

It's funny because we were talking about how we both have the constant desire to be *productive* all the time, and Ange mentioned that she wanted to develop more hobbies. I didn't realize it fully yesterday, but one of my favorite hobbies (besides writing, reading, and editing) is listening. I just had one of the best weekends in a long time because I was able to do just that. Don't get me wrong--I definitely enjoy talking and laughing myself, but when it comes down to it, I like being the important person on the other side of the conversation. I love validating people's feelings, showing them that I understand...or if I can't truly understand, that I can at least imagine why they are feeling the way they feel.

Friendships + coffee + listening= love. It's as simple as that.

Idol Chatter

2008-02-19T21:42:00.002-05:00

Can I just say that I absolutely heart David Archuleta on American Idol? Oh my God he is so lovable. I want to SCRUNCH HIM UP! Okay, that is all.

2008-02-19T19:41:00.004-05:00

I don't have a lot of energy to expend on writing a real post tonight because I am exhausted. However, due to the incessant whining I've been hearing from a few of my colleagues (ahem, Samantha and Alan "Ace") these past couple of days, I thought I would give it a shot. APPARENTly people have actually been checking this site recently and have proved despondent over the fact that the last post was about lullabies and it was written more than a week ago. So, fine. Here is the amazing life of...Tarabyte. Yes, I did really just say Tarabyte. During the second week of training, we learned that one of Aetna's databases houses 16 terrabytes of information. This, of course, lead to me chomping at the air all the while proclaiming that "I bite," which then lead to the nickname permanently affixing itself to...myself. Quite endearing. I was about to give a presentation the other day and our head instructor looked up at me and said, "Ready, Tarabyte?" Seriously.

Anyway, other than the nickname, I am still loving my job. But I know, that's not inherently interesting to any of you out there reading this and frankly I don't feel like going into details of my daily life there only because it would turn out to be this one enormous run-on sentence that would probably take you an entire day to READ and an entire day for me to write, kind of like this one but with a more emphatic and excited tone. That's how much I love my job. Which is great, it really is. But dull to read about...we'll save it for a conversation over martinis, shall we?

In non-job related news (hmm this might be difficult), this past week I:

1. Started going to the gym AND on our elliptical machine. Go me!
2. Broke out in a crazy facial rash that itched, burned and turned various shades of red before receding. Ew, that sounds really gross. Anyway, it was merely an allergic reaction to Clean and Clear facewash. Nothing contagious.
3. Hung out with Mom and Dad!!! Always a wonderful time. We went to the Book Barn and had lunch (with Jeff, too, of course).
4. Became addicted to Kate Nash and constantly had one of her song lyrics buzzing around in my head while attempting to "populate" an RFP. Oops, work talk. But really, how can you not love a song with the title "Pumpkin Soup"?
5. Had an amazing dinner at Lupo with Megan and Lily.
6. Gave advice to a friend who was going through a hard time.

Whew, and you wonder why I don't have a ton of energy to post a blog entry on a daily basis. There you have it, folks. My life in a nutshell...as fascinating as it may be. Be back soon--or as soon as I feel like it!

2008-02-06T22:32:00.000-05:00

This may seem silly, but occasionally when I am home by myself, I like to put on this beautiful CD called "Global Lullabies" by Freyda Epstein. It's a collection of lullabies from around the world in various languages, and it is the most calming music you'll ever hear. I have a particular favorite entitled "Shaker Medley." The lyrics and melody are simple but they are soothing and sweet which sometimes is exactly what I need after a long day.

The first time I encountered this CD was when I worked as a toddler teacher at Bright Horizons. One of the aspects of our center's mission was to teach children about different cultures and have them embrace whatever characteristics made them special. I can remember many an afternoon rubbing the little toddlers' backs as they fell asleep to this music at naptime...little Talia whose ponytail would be splayed across her blotchy cheek, Jonathan (Jon-Jon) who would sometimes wake up in a panic-stricken nightmare and need to be rocked back to sleep, and Rishi, one of my favorites, who would sprawl out all over his cot...and usually end up in a pool of drool. Their innocence always moved me. No matter how hectic my day was, or how crazy they were acting before their naps, you couldn't stay angry looking at their beautiful faces and listening to that CD. I loved each and every one of them in my own special way.

I just did a bit of research on my favorite song which turns out to be a Shaker hymn:

"Love is Little" comes from South Union, Kentucky, ca. 1834; its words are "Love is little, love is low/Love will make my spirit grow/Grow in peace, grow in light/Love will do the thing that's right," expressing in its mild simplicity the Shakers' abiding belief in humble faith and fellowship, rejecting the excessively charismatic preaching and apocalyptic prophesizing common in that age of religious reform and zealotry.

The entire lyrics, from what I can gather (the whole song is nowhere to be found on the internet!) are:

Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...
Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...

Grow in peace
Grow in light
Love will do the thing that's right.
Grow in peace
Grow in light
Love will do the thing that's right.

Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...
Love is little, love is low
Love will make my spirit grow...

I have a little nogan filled with love, sweet love, love
Mama sent me here with it
To feed her simple doves

It is sweet, it is sweet
It is very, very sweet
Chick, chick, chick, chick
Pretty chicks,
Come and eat...

Then the Chorus repeats again.

It's beautiful. It really is. I highly suggest it for children...or for adults.

2008-01-30T20:19:00.000-05:00

Today in training, they officially split us into our two designated groups: the ten Sales Consultants in one room, the four Information Consultants in the other. I felt like I was on "Survivor." Come to think of it, I want an Information Consultant buff to wear (preferably in a pretty aquamarine blue or jungle green shade). In the first two and a half weeks, we've completed the industry overview and Aetna product line as a class and so for the next five and a half weeks we're focusing our efforts on our specific job responsibilities as SCs and ICs. This may sound a bit ridiculous, but I felt kind of sad about the separation. I've come to respect each and every one of my classmates, and I truly look forward to seeing them every day. Going from a class of fourteen to a class of four is somewhat of a shock. I already miss the general banter, witty responses and engaging conversations that have consistently taken place in our "homeroom." We've spent about 100 hours together there since January 14th, and I've already created so many wonderful memories and experiences with these people...I guess I'm just not ready to let it all go so soon. (Obviously they are going to be right across the hall, but the fact that we will no longer be experiencing new subjects or programs together kind of hit me.)

As I packed up my nametag, various binders, notebooks and pens to move next door, I realized that the reason Ididn't see this coming is because I hadn't looked ahead on my training syllabus. I guess I was just happy-go-lucky and figured that we would continue to experience presentations, participate in activities and brainstorm together. I had gradually gotten comfortable with the setting--had picked out a favorite seat in the lecture classroom, loved my seating situation in the computer lab, and was overall just starting to feel like I fit and now I'm being moved. I know it doesn't really seem that drastic, but my happiness has been hard to surpass these past few weeks and I'm just hoping that the training will continue to exceed my expectations. So far it has been one of the most positive work experiences I've ever had. And I feel like I've made some very good friends out of the deal as well.

The good news is, yesterday I had my first informal evaluation with the four trainers. They said that I am doing "a fantastic job" and that they were very happy with my quiz scores (a 90.6 on the first one and a 92.4 on the second). The cool thing about the trainers is, most of them are in their late twenties or in their thirties, so it really is similar to talking to a colleague. They are professional and respectable, but also have a young and interesting edge that separates them from the usual manager type. I find myself responding really well to them, and I'm looking forward to working with them in the future. I feel so lucky to have landed in this position. I know that I deserve it, but I still can't help but feel that it's absolutely where I'm meant to be.

Wish me luck filling out my first RFI (Request for Information) tomorrow. It's an all-day task!

More updates to follow...

2008-01-22T19:09:00.000-05:00

Ahhh, it's 7:10 p.m., the beautiful time when I can finally relax and stop thinking. This training--while I love it--does have the tendency to use up a lot of mental focus and brain power. In fact, so much so that I actually dreamed about health care plans and various medical terms last night because it's becoming so ingrained in my mind. Scary! (Although, come to think of it, there was an incredibly violent portion of my dream where I saw someone being shot execution-style in front of their house. Perhaps I should be more concerned about that? Yes, probably). Anyway. I love this time of the day. Everything is peaceful. The refrigerator is humming quietly, the heat is cranking slowly through the pipes and Jeff's not home from the gym so the TV isn't blaring with Hillary and Obama bickering (just yet). It's a nice segue from hectic to soothing.

This morning I heard the song "We Are the World" on the radio. That was my favorite song ever when I was six and I think I honestly wandered around singing it for months (my parents even have me on video singing it at Hubbard Park). It's too funny how I literally feel like I'm back in first grade as soon as I hear that song. It doesn't matter that I'm driving to work or that I'm "dressed for success" or that I'm married. The chorus belts out "There's a choice we're makin', we're savin' all our lives" and I am transported back to Meriden, Connecticut with my size 6x jeans, zip-up pink hoodie, matching pink Velcro sneakers, (fairly awful) blonde bob haircut and maybe all of eight teeth in my head, belting my little heart out. I'm grateful for the simple pleasures in life. I think I always have been. Feeding the ducks. My Care Bears lunchbox and matching thermos. The backyard turning into a frozen village after a freezing rain storm. Mom giving me ginger ale when I had a stomachache. Being allowed to stay up until 9 on the weekends and having a Pepsi. Going down the slide on my swingset.

When I have quiet time, I like to think back and reflect upon the experiences that have made me who I am. I know that I have come so far in many ways, but I also know that there are future goals I have to set. This year I have to focus on new goals to ensure that I continue to better myself...that I never become complacent or lazy in who I am. Life is how we define it, and I want to feel like I've enjoyed as many moments of as many days as possible.

2008-01-19T22:04:00.000-05:00

Oh my God. I am going to have to officially declare myself a loser. It's 10 p.m. on a Saturday night and I am a) home alone b) listening to the 1990s music channel on TV c) online and d) the song happens to be "Step by Step" by New Kids on the Block, circa 1990-91...and for those of you who were previous fans of NKOTB, this song wasn't even cool back then! They had already jumped the shark by the time I was in sixth grade. (And the song is absolutely terrible.)

For the most part, though, this particular music channel evokes a wide variety of positive emotions in me. The 90s played such a dynamic role in my life--I guess because between the ages of 10 and 20, I established so much of who I eventually became. Whether dealing wtih braces or boyfriends or learning about love, friendship and loss, I remember listening to the radio on a daily basis and completely (melodramatically??) empathizing with the person singing the lyrics. (Example: "I Love Your Smile" by Shanice, "or, oh wait, here is an actual journal line from July 6, 1993: Oh, God! The song “Someday” by Mariah Carey is on—the one I sang all day after Matt and I broke up. You know how it goes, “Someday, the one you gave away will be the only one you’re wishin’ 4!” Well, I am. Anyway, if you haven’t already guessed, we’re goin’ out again. I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really like him.") Memories always have a tendency to embed themselves throughout the lyrics for me...I can't listen to certain songs without being transported back in time. It makes me smile to hear "More Than Words" by Extreme, and this afternoon Laurie, Ange and I tested out our lung power with hits by Alanis Morrisette, Matchbox 20 and Usher, to name a few.

One of my favorite music periods was during the late 90s when I was finishing my senior year at Masuk and entering UConn as a freshman. For some reason, a number of songs from this timeframe evoke a poignant sense of nostalgia every time I listen to them...some of them were probably from "Dawson's Creek," others were dorm favorites and of course many songs from 1997 remind me of high school graduation, prom, random car rides with friends, etc. Ugh. The song "Jump" by Kriss Kross just came on, making me want to retract my previous statement...oh and now "Butterfly Kisses." BARF. I'm going to sign off now.

2008-01-15T21:12:00.001-05:00

I love training. I feel like I am finally where I need to be, career-wise, at Aetna. Everyone in my "class" (there are 14 of us) is bright, proactive and motivated to do well in order to achieve personal success. We've held brainstorming sessions, given brief presentations and listened to various lectures, and I can honestly say that I haven't felt this productive or positive in months. I have learned an incredible amount of information in two days, and at times it is overwhelming (last night I fell asleep on the couch at 9 p.m.) but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. It's certainly an intensive classroom environment, and we are all expected to play an active role in the dialogue--both by participating when one of the trainers or presenters poses a question or topic, as well as by raising questions ourselves when we are unsure of an acronym or health care term. After completing grad school, I never thought I wanted to be in a classroom setting again, but this is different because my entire career lies ahead of me, and the foundation for my future basically begins with these next eight weeks.

Yesterday when we were moving from our original meeting place in the lobby area to the training classroom, we took an escalator. Halfway up the escalator, I smiled to myself because 1) I was wearing a cute suit from Ann Taylor Loft; 2) I had a hot vanilla coffee in my hand; and 3) because I was at Aetna and I had worked very hard to get there. That pretty much sums up my emotions so far this week. I feel accomplished. Out of the 14 people in my class, 10 were hired as sales consultants and 4 of us were hired as information consultants (I will be an IC). The Sales Manager gave us some interesting stats: they received 239 resumes, of those 239, 49 received a first interview and only 20% of that final number were hired. I know I shouldn't be bragging about those numbers but I honestly just feel proud of myself, and I had to share. I think I am usually fairly modest, but I don't think I've ever worked this hard for a position or wanted it so badly before. I am looking forward to the next 38 work days!!

Of course...

2008-01-13T09:00:00.000-05:00

There is going to be a blizzard on my first day. Just because so far January has been pleasant and sunny and the days have been beautiful and walkable even. I'm not a neurotic person by nature, but I am definitely looking forward to making a great first impression tomorrow...oh, wait. I just realized that there is one thing that I am a tiny bit neurotic about, and that is punctuality. Training at Aetna begins at 7:45 a.m. My commute will be between 40-45 minutes on a good day, but add 6-8 inches of snow to that mix and you're looking at a few hours. So. If I wake up at 5 a.m. I should be good to go. All right! Nothing like starting a new job with that hanging over your head...and my car just hit the 160,000 mile marker. Gaaahhhhh!!!!

Okay, this is boring and basically just a rant that belongs in my head. Sorry.

2008-01-03T20:55:00.000-05:00

I will be a career girl soon. (Envision a cute suit, sleek ponytail, heels, portfolios, RFPs, me chewing ever so slightly on the end of my pen as I narrow my eyes and contemplate just the perfect phrase to complete the narrative response). My writing career has arrived and all is right with the world. Well, all is right with my world, anyway. I have been striving for this moment for as long as I can remember, and I am really proud of myself for achieving success at last. Two challenging interviews, tons of company research, and a five page paper on consumerism in healthcare later, I received an official offer and will start my new position on the 14th. I'm very excited about entering corporate America. Last January I had written down some goals and ideas regarding my career path (in a stream-of-consciousness fashion) because I knew I wouldn't stay in the non-profit sector forever. It's interesting to see what a difference a year can make:

"I need to decide what I want to do for the rest of my life. It’s seriously been bothering me for the past couple of months. I feel restless…and uneasy…and worried that I am not going to amount to much of anything. I mean how do we end up where we are, career-wise? I want to be a writer. However, writing is not a feasible full-time option. I am more than willing to begin writing every day in the hopes that someday I will be able to freelance…or finish the young adult novel that I so enthusiastically started. But what am I going to DO to make a difference? Where am I going to be in five years? I hate not knowing the answers. I’m 27 and I really wish I was more on the career path that I had imagined myself on—being an associate editor or a proofreader or a writer somewhere, anywhere. I guess I’m just waiting for something to happen…which is not very proactive of me. I am determined to change my job within the next year…and I’m looking forward to a fresh start."

And here we are in 2008, and I will be enjoying my fresh start. I have to give major thanks to my dad for always telling me to write down my goals and focus on them to make them happen. Despite the fact that finding the perfect job occasionally took more time and effort than I was willing to give, the outcome is well worth it. I also want to thank my mom, Jeff, the rest of my family and friends for their constant support and encouragement. Thank you for believing in me, and for believing in my abilities. I don't think that I would be where I am today without the positive thoughts, phone calls and emails. There were days when I honestly thought that I didn't have the talent or the intelligence to obtain such a professional position, and I appreciate those who reassured me otherwise. I know now that I have it in me; that I am smart enough to take on a new and interesting challenge. I'm looking forward to reporting on what I learn during this next step.

Until then...

2007-12-18T18:50:00.000-05:00

Last week I went over my friend Tani's house for kind of a birthday/holiday celebration (her birthday is at the end of November, and mine's December 13th). After one martini each and an hour of reminiscing and interesting conversation, she broke out her tarot cards. Now I'm usually fairly wary of those types of things--psychics, tarot cards, palm readings, etc.--because I don't want to know what's going to happen in my life, for better or for worse. What's the point of living if not to find out what's around every corner? But that night, I thought, why not? I'll just take everything with a grain of salt since I believe I'm essentially responsible for creating my own future. I spent a considerable amount of time shuffling the cards in the hopes that my mind would know when to quit on a positive note. Well, unfortunately I must have no telepathic ability whatsoever because my cards showed some strange emotions and figures in my life: a jealous male figure, an overpowering female figure, loneliness, bitterness and a miscarriage. Hurray! Talk about a lively drinking game. Of course I am not going to allow the reading to weigh heavily on my mind, but one aspect of it did stick with me. Tani told me that the "loneliness" card was listed as part of my present state of mind, and she looked confused about it because she knows that I am very happy in my marriage, I have a group of great friends and a wonderful family. Overall, I am pretty well-balanced. But I stopped her and said, "You know, that's weird. The other day I was home with Jeff and yet I realized I was feeling lonely." She seemed surprised.

I know that the loneliness has nothing to do with Jeff...but I was thinking that maybe I do miss a few of my friends (around the holidays especially). Some of these friends are people I haven't talked to in years, and others are close friends that I feel are drifting away. Both types of relationships make me feel slightly empty inside because I guess I believe I failed the friendship and the person in some way. When I think back to a few of my best friendships, I can't truly understand what went so fatally wrong and why. I know that I dwell on the negative in this case too much, and people are always telling me "Some frienships are bound to slip away after a while" or "That's only natural"...but to me, it's never natural. I guess that I just feel if I maintain the effort and really care about someone, that the friendship should never fail. Once I'm attached to someone, I find it incomprehensible to let them go without a fight...but it has happened to me on more than one occasion.

During Christmas, I want to see everyone I care about. As you know from my last entry, I love presents and thoughtful (material) things, but mostly I love talking, gatherings, drinking wine, laughing. I am currently sitting in my living room and I am having this vivid daydream where ALL of my friends and family are sitting in this huge circle on my hardwood floor (I know my living room would never comfortably hold all those people but that's why this is a dream), and we are all talking, laughing, and sitting so closely to one another that one person's red fleece blends into another person's blue wool sweater in a cohesive yet fuzzy purple blur. I want to hug people, to tell them I love them, to make them understand how much they mean to me. As I'm writing this, tears are literally springing to my eyes and I don't know why.

I am making a firm resolve to take care of the friendships that mean so much to me during the New Year. I seem to recall that one of my New Year's resolutions last year was to "not care so much" because I was constantly getting hurt...but you end up feeling lonely either way. And I'd rather be lonely with friends than without.

2007-12-04T21:33:00.000-05:00

When we were in church on Sunday, the priest's homily focused on Advent and the holiday season, and how we shouldn't become too wrapped up in consumerism (yes, the present pun was intended). He was advising us to connect with the spiritual nature of Christmas as opposed to the material, but honestly, I'm just not the most spiritual person. Well, maybe that's not accurate. I'm not a very religious person. I may be Catholic but there are many aspects of the religion that I disagree with; many instances where the church sees things as either "black" or "white" when in reality there are various shades of gray. I'm not entirely sure what I believe in (I know that some may find it interesting that I believe in ghosts without ever having encountered one, but when the issue of God is raised, I'm more scientific and seeing is believing). However, regardless of the fact that I'm not incredibly religious, I find ways throughout the year to help people, to enhance their lives. I don't need Christmas to remind me to be a good person or to give of myself freely because for the most part, I live my life with the intention of making other people happy in the process.

That said, I sincerely love Christmas and all that it has to offer. So what if some of the things are tangible (ornaments, white lights, crisp outdoor air, "O Holy Night," cherry-flavored candy canes--I'm obviously not a purist--"Claymation Christmas" on TV). Maybe it's the comfort of childhood that can be found within those holiday traditions, or the knowledge that no matter how far away your family is, you know that you will be close to them during the holidays. There's an immeasurable number of factors that make the entire month of December one of my absolute favorites of the year. I don't think it's possible for me to stay grumpy...all someone has to do is put on an iTunes holiday mix and in five minutes I'm singing along at the top of my lungs, acting out Ella Fitzgerald's every movement "Off with my overcoat, off with my glooooves...I need no overcoat, I'm burning, burning looove!" If only every day could capture the anticipation of Christmas.

When I started this entry, my first thought (a selfish and greedy one, I might add) was to write about how I would love to go on a shopping spree this season. If you were born in the late 70s like I was, then you remember those Toys R Us commercials where the kids won a shopping spree and they had a certain amount of time to race through the store, and I don't think they even paid attention to what flew into their cart. It was a lot of random, rushed grabbing from shelves and tearing down the aisles. I remember Ryan and I would turn to each other, our eyes as big as saucers while watching the spree go down. Now, as a respectable adult (ahem), just for 10 minutes, I would love to have the opportunity to go on that kind of crazy and out-of-control shopping spree at...Ann Taylor Loft. Or Pottery Barn. Or J. Crew. You get the picture. Velvet blazers, cute heels, beautiful picture frames, cocktail dresses, a side table...everything I could ever want for the holiday season. Am I a Grinch? Probably. But just remember...I always give to the Salvation Army...I am here for my friends...I help when I'm needed. So to quote "A Charlie Brown Christmas," "All I want is what's coming to me. All I want...is my fair share." ;)

Happy early Christmas to you all...and to all a good night!

2007-11-25T14:49:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about starting a book club. I'm constantly looking for something productive to do with my time, and as you know, lately I've been facing some difficulty in the book-choosing department. I'd love to have someone else recommend a novel for me, and I'd even be willing to try new genres and authors.

Many of my friends are already avid readers, but we never take the time to truly discuss what we're reading or how it relates to real life situations. I think it would be interesting to get to know my friends on a more intellectual level, and similar to Scrabulous (an online version of Scrabble for you non-facebookers), it would keep my brain warm and active in a way that a gingerbread latte could not. Besides that, people tend to become reclusive during the winter months, and this would be the perfect way to ensure at least a few jovial gatherings, full of revelry, witticisms and the like. All right so I exaggerated that sentence because it's Sunday afternoon, I'm bored, it's quiet, and large words have the tendency to entertain me. But seriously.

About a year or so ago, I read Elizabeth Noble's first novel entitled The Reading Group which takes place in Ireland. She has a Maeve Binchy-esque way of delving into the characters' lives, intertwining them and making the reader care about each and every story. It all revolved around a group of local Irish women who created their own book club, and the plot was enhanced by showing their reactions to certain pieces in the novels they were reading and how it corresponded to their families, friends, and everyday lives. I'll have to find this book downstairs, because I remember in the back there were guidelines on how to create your own reading group. I've been intrigued by the idea for a while now, but I think I'm ready for the next step. Oooh we could even occasionally meet at Borders to make our group seem even more official! Okay, I'm excited now.

2007-11-13T19:51:00.000-05:00

I think that I've become a fairly articulate and eloquent speaker by default. I say "by default" because it's certainly not through any natural ability of my own. When I was in kindergarten, I was so shy that I refused to play with my fellow five-year-olds. I sat alone in the corner stacking colorful plastic blocks that interlocked (I believe they were used for counting and one-to-one correspondence) while the other kids played house or dress-up together. In 2nd grade, my peers thought that I was a snob because I wouldn't speak to them. I had three close friends throughout elementary school (Sara, Jessica D. and Jessie B.) and they were all that I felt I needed. We played "Witch" on the hopscotch boards during recess and took turns hosting sleepovers. I often let them speak for me even if I didn't agree with them or their actions. It was easier. It was non-confrontational...and I regret it now.

It's funny, but sometimes when people ask me to describe myself, the word "shy" still rolls around on my tongue before I snap the thought away and swallow it whole. I'm not shy. I'm no longer even close to shy. But it was always a defining characteristic of mine; one that teachers noted on my report cards and friends' parents teased me about. ("Remember the first time you came over our--Sara's--house? You just sat there on the couch and kept asking "When is my mom coming to get me?") I've been thinking about this common thread for a few days now...for various reasons. The first being that on Facebook, my friends recently "compared" me to others, and they voted me as "more outgoing". I kind of laughed because I just don't see myself in that light. However, upon further study, I imagined myself rambling on to my girl friends over dinner, becoming increasingly loud and obnoxious over a martini at Lupo, exploding into a giggling fit with Megan at work, or politely introducing myself to major donors during intermission, and I realize that I have changed. I have made it a point to communicate, to really know people. I suppose my interest in human drama and everyday life has forced me into a level of interaction that I never experienced previously.

This past Saturday, I made Lifetime at Weight Watchers which basically means that I've maintained my goal weight for 6+ weeks and I no longer have to pay to attend meetings. There were probably about 40 people at the meeting, and our leader Katie asked me why the program worked for me. I used to feel my face turn bright red when I felt pressured to respond, but when I opened my mouth, all the right words were there. I was able to pinpoint my each and every success and every reason behind it; I gave credit to the support I had received from Jeff, his mom, and the others in the room; and I was so proud of the fact that I was able to string together complete and interesting sentences *like that* (snaps her fingers).

I guess I shouldn't be altogether surprised. I know that I am fairly smart and capable of expressing myself...but I usually hide behind my pen and paper, or behind my computer screen. I haven't always been so comfortable and at ease with my ability to express myself. It's a skill that I've developed over the past few years, inadvertantly. And I'm proud of it.

2007-11-06T20:16:00.001-05:00

It's official. I am addicted to the internet. I have been home for two hours and 45 minutes, and with the exception of making/eating my dinner and asking Jeff how his day was, I have spent all of my free time online. To be fair, I also attempted to watch TV, but A&E's Cold Case Files was a repeat and I've already seen the Travel Channel's "Do's and Don'ts" for vacationing in Hawaii. I read my book for about 10 minutes during dinner but the truth is, I could care less what happens to the characters at the end. It's called Starting Out in the Evening and I highly don't recommend it.

I need to find a hobby. I enjoy writing but I feel that I should dedicate serious time, energy and effort to it. My brain is definitely not at its best after a long day at work; the creative synapses in my head are disjointed at night and I can't clearly communicate the (brilliant!) thoughts that occur to me during the day. I like singing as well but that's a hobby I save for car rides, wine nights with friends, and the occasional Josh Groban sing-along in the office. Baking is great and has the beneficial side effect of making the house smell delicious, but I have a feeling that eating 48 of my own peanut butter cookies would most likely be counter-productive to the progress that I've made up to this point.

Turning my computer on is almost an instinctive reaction for me first thing in the morning, and in the evening when I come home. Being online doesn't require much brainpower. I play "Scrabulous" with my friends on facebook (that might stretch the brain cells just a little bit, and it allows me to form words with random letters--FUN!), then I check the local news on WFSB. National news on MSNBC. Hotmail. Stuffonmycat. Myspace. Weather. Read Heather's always informative and interesting blog. Return to MSNBC for breaking news. Check facebook again because, after all, someone may have left me a comment during the past five minutes. Talk to my brother or Rachel on instant messenger. Why not check my horoscope on Yahoo to waste some more time. Back to Hotmail. Etc. etc. etc. Am I alone in this? Why can't I just shut my computer down and walk away?

Because I don't know what else to do if I am not attached to my laptop. I reviewed my options: I could...clean. *shudder*. I could...read the dumb book that I don't like. I could...reorganize my dresser drawers. Watch a movie. Find music on iTunes. (Wait!! This is the 4th time I've read this over for editing purposes and I only just realized that finding music on iTunes requires...you guessed it...being online). Basically that's all I could come up with, besides blogging (which was obviously my final decision). It's too cold and dark outside to take a walk. I don't own any exercise equipment or I might actually get off my lazy butt and MOVE. But, alas. Sigh.

As much as I love Connecticut and New England, there are times when I wish darkness and winter didn't set in as early or for as long as they do. It's only the beginning of November and I'm already starting to feel claustrophobic like I'm stuck in the snowy season and I can't get out. Maybe I should focus on the positive aspects. Holidays. Friends. Wine. (that's the 2nd wine mention, isn't it? You can see where my priorities lie. ;) Snowy days spent reading under blankets. Corduroy pants and cozy sweaters. Snowball fights. Sledding. Hot chocolate with fake marshmallows. Trivial Pursuit.

Okay, I feel a little better now. And a bit more productive. Perhaps I should make a list of the things I hope to accomplish this winter. The goals I hope to achieve. That's one proactive way to spend the rest of my evening...

This will be different...

2007-11-04T17:27:00.000-05:00

This afternoon Jeff and I went for a walk through the salt marsh at Rocky Neck. We watched hundreds of minnows glide downstream, saw four large purple jellyfish bobbing in the water, observed two ducks mating (that was interesting) and took turns throwing clam shells back into the ocean. We shuffled/ran through crunchy dead leaves like little kids and sat on a huge outcrop of rocks in the sun overlooking the Four Mile River. We were relatively quiet the entire time, just enjoying each other's company and the relaxing peace. So of course that meant my mind was reeling with past experiences (I don't think there's ever a time when my mind is actually blank). I passed a pine tree with those tiny pale blue seeds (I'm not entirely sure if they are actually seeds) and that reminded me of my next door neighbor's house growing up. I spent hours playing with April and Shelly in their backyard among similar trees...and that memory segued into the day I sprained my ankle back in third grade. Shelly and I had been taking turns jumping from this enormous dirt pile in the lot next door (a short walk through the woods) when all of a sudden, I landed on a rock, twisted my ankle and fell. What a surprise. I thought about my old swingset (see 2005 blog entry swingset) and how Ryan and I poured water in the dirt ovals beneath the swings, shoved popsicle sticks into the mud and pretended they were people swimming in the ocean.

Our old house had a wrap-around sidewalk from the front door to the side door. At the top of the sidewalk, where we kept Cupcake's food dish, there was a little divet in the asphalt with grooves in it. Ryan and I also poured water into that divet and let it run down and around the corner, taking out many ants' lives in the process. (Cupcake lived a long and healthy life, and on a side note, she died last month after 21 years. I had her since I was in third grade. In fact, she may have even been witness to my first broken ankle!) I relayed some of these memories to Jeff as we sat in the sun, but many of them silently played in my head as they usually do.

I thought about how Jeff reads National Geographic and how he is always so aware of current issues. He's up on everything that's occurring in the Middle East. He tries to explain the concept of "growing fuel" to me, and I listen patiently for a few minutes but then I lose interest. I hate to believe I'm selfish and that I only care about the issues/memories/experiences that personally affect me, but I suppose I am. I guess I'm just comfortable discussing or writing about the things that I can completely understand, whereas Jeff is willing to let new things in all the time. I am nostalgic and he is adventurous. I suppose it's the same way with people. I love spending time with my closest friends; he would be perfectly happy sitting with a table full of people he didn't know--and he would make the most of it even if he knew he'd never see them again. The two of us are different in so many ways but we balance each other out in a way that complements us.

Thinking back on these memories, I realized that on the way down to North Carolina, I had started a list entitled "100 Favorite Childhood Memories in no particular order...for now" and I managed to jot about 30 down before we had to get out of the car. Here they are!

1. Saturday afternoons with Dad and Ryan when Mom worked 3-11. A particular memory that stands out is our long walk at Hop Brook in Middlebury; our discussion of mica and archaeology.

2. Playing "space" with glow-in-the-dark Construx with Ryan in his room.

3. "I have an extra hand," a hotel employee informed us as he tried helping us with our luggage during a thunderstorm and power outage when we arrived at Yellowstone National Park in 1995...this statement was followed by Dad's "I'm sorry to hear that" and fits of giggles for hours (and years) later.

4. Friendly's dinners with Mom--I would always order the Chicken Lickin' Platter.

5. Swimming in the pool and going in my first hot tub at the Americana Holiday Motel, Cape Cod, circa 1985.

6. Camping at Rocky Neck, especially the group get-togethers at night with the Ruedes, Reks, etc. We would sing "Hi, my name is Joe...I work in a button factory..." around the campfire.

7. Playing in the "burger jail" outside McDonald's on Lakewood Road in Waterbury.

8. Any and every trip to the bookstore (Waldenbooks) at the Naugatuck Valley Mall.

9. Checking out the La Brea Tar Pits in Los Angeles, CA. http://www.tarpits.org/

10. Playing on our swingset, and later--in middle school--swinging on the swings while listening to Color Me Badd and Boyz II Men on my Walkman.

11. Going to Chuck E Cheese with Ry and Dad, especially jumping in the ball pit.

12. Shopping at G. Wizz with Mom and looking at the cool pens and stationery (some things never change!)

13. Snow days at Amy and Chris's house and tubing down the double hill in their back yard.

14. All the summers at Quassy Beach Club--Mom's pink lemonade, Fritos, the occasional stop at Dairy Mart for Hershey's chocolate milk.

15. Going on my first backwards/upside-down rollercoaster with Dad in Wildwood, NJ, 1989.

16. Shopping with Mom and Grandma at the Meriden Square.

17. Panning for gold at Sutter's Mill in California, 1992.

18. Hiking at Sleeping Giant with my My Child, Gretel, and Ryan's stuffed lamb named Babas.

19. Watching "The Dark Crystal" while eating Cape Cod chips in a brown wooden bowl and drinking Pepsi.

20. Playing Nintendo in Scott's room at the Ruedes' house in Reading, MA, 1989.

21. Tea parties with my stuffed mouse, Mousie, and my Holly Hobby tea set.

22. Playing Super Cycle on our Commodore 64 in 1987.

23. Checking out Aunt Marty's new house in Waterbury--Ryan and I each declared a room "ours."

24. Playing baseball (wiffleball) with the entire fam in the backyard.

25. Going to the Scoreboard restaurant with the Keeleys and playing the basketball game and pinball in the game room.

26. My Special Day with Dad to NYC because of my good report card--we went to the Doubleday bookstore, had a pretzel in the park and even saw the Hard Rock Cafe (I was psyched because it was mentioned in the "Baby-sitters Club" books!)

27. Going to the Cheshire Library with Mom and Ryan after school--I'd get lost in the Sweet Valley High section.

28. Making up the Lunchables song on the Midwest trip in 1995.

29. Christmas 1990 when Ryan and I opened our big gift together and simultaneously screamed "NINTENDO!"

30. Aunt Marty and Kevin's wedding, 1993.

2007-11-04T10:41:00.000-05:00

I am still somewhat stunned by this accident. It occurred on Friday morning merely two exits away from ours, on a route that Jeff and I both travel constantly. It's a fairly dangerous stretch of I-95 because there are only two lanes and there's a merge on the right and an on-ramp to I-395 a few hundred feet ahead on the left. I've often felt a bit claustrophobic and defensive driving through there because the drivers behind me usually fly up at 80 m.p.h. as the people in front of me slam on their brakes to let other drivers in or to allow people to move over to the on-ramp. On more than one occasion I have braced myself for an impending collision because I have nowhere else to go when the car behind me doesn't look like it's going to stop. Just weeks ago I happened to glance in my rearview mirror and literally saw the grill of a Mack truck and nothing else. I felt trapped.

These tractor trailers and tanker trucks seriously need to slow down. I've been passed on the right, and I've seen trucks playing games with each other as it appears these two were on Friday morning. Most likely, 90% of the time their erratic behavior will only result in annoyance and a few choice hand gestures from other cars on the road. However, these speeding/passing games take a toll when all of a sudden the driver can no longer handle his own vehicle. If I had been on the road at the time of that accident, I probably would have succumbed to an anxiety attack and crashed my own car even if I wasn't directly involved. Car accidents have been a great fear of mine for as long as I can remember. I can't imagine anything worse than seeing a horrific situation and not having enough time to manuever around it. The fact that two innocent people lost their lives due to someone else's carelessness and recklessness really affects me. Now someone is without his wife...another couple is without their son. This could have been avoided. The tanker was carrying home heating oil, and no one was going to be any worse off if they received their delivery 10 minutes later.

All I could think of when I heard that three people had died was "What if it's someone I know?" Luckily I had heard the news from Jeff and his mom so I knew it wasn't them, but still. It could have been them. It could have been me. I had just traveled that route the night before to go to the Crystal Mall after work. You just never know when these random events might happen. As it is, I worry enough about something terrible happening to Jeff. When you love someone that much and don't want to imagine your life without them, it's only natural. I still worry about my parents' safety, as well as my brother's down in North Carolina. But there are only so many aspects of your environment that you can control, and the rest is left up to chance. I am a careful driver. Not slow or extremely cautious, but definitely aware of my surroundings at all times. I attribute this to my absolute fear of car accidents and to the fact that I never want to be involved in one. However, if I had been driving on that patch of 95 for whatever reason that morning, it wouldn't matter that I was careful. It wouldn't matter that I was driving the speed limit or that I wasn't tailgating anyone. The tanker truck came through the median into oncoming traffic and I'll bet the people who died literally didn't even know what hit them.

Since I don't have the control or power to stop accidents from happening, I can only hope that this story and its tragic outcome will cause truck drivers (and all other erratic drivers) to think twice about their actions. There are other people on the road. People with families and lives and goals...and you don't have the right to take all of that away from them.

2007-10-27T00:09:00.000-04:00

I am back. It takes 12 hours to drive to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and about 11 hours to drive from the Outer Banks back to Connecticut. This means that I had 23 entire hours to think, relax and just be. A rarity these days, but it was necessary. I don't think my head has felt this clear since last December, and my body is far less tense. I laughed a lot, I read, I enjoyed the company of my family. The car rides were two cozy bookends that encompassed everything in between. Car ride One: Ryan, Sakshi, Wake Forest, 6th and Vine, Indian food, Red Sox games, Pilot Mountain hike, Shelton Vineyards, Nags Head, Ocracroke, Lost Colony of Roanoke, Wright Brothers Museum, moonlit walk on beach: Car Ride Two. I latched onto so many different ideas and thoughts throughout the trip, but it's hard to articulate slices of them so I've been attempting to find the common thread. I think there might be a few separate blog entries.

First of all, I am thankful that I live in New England. I loved North Carolina and would go back and visit in a second, but driving home on Route 13 was like driving straight through an Andrew Wyeth painting. The word that kept creeping to the forefront of my mind was "dull." Desolate was a close second. Sad, lonely, unbelievable were the other choice few. Rural Virginia and North Carolina leave much to be desired, at least from a Connecticut girl's standpoint. We drove for over an hour and didn't pass a single restaurant or grocery store. We passed cotton and peanut fields, dilapidated/boarded up houses (with "No Trespassing"--don't worry--and "Bad Dog lives here" signs). I saw heaps of junk in people's front yards from old rusty cars to tires and broken plastic chairs. The faded wooden billboards seemed to sing out from a different era (circa 1981) and advertised "Discount Cigs, Firecrackers and Guns". We came to a stoplight, passed another trailer park and then a school that wasn't in session...most likely because there aren't enough students in the area to make running the school worthwhile.

It didn't help that it rained for a majority of the ride and was mostly cloudy for the rest. Mist and fog drifted across the farms and fields, and the irrigation systems stood, rendered useless. It seemed to me that no one actually lived in these towns; they were like ghost towns because (with the exception of local traffic) no one was visible to the casual observer. The towns appeared to have a persona all their own which included beyond run-down houses, ramshackle sheds and overgrown lawns. I felt a sense of disgust for whoever let the places fall to pieces like that. I kept thinking how happy I was to be returning to a beautiful small town where, for the most part, people are friendly, out and about and willing to take ownership for their corner of the world. I verbally announced to my family on more than one occasion how thrilled I was that I didn't live in any of the towns that we passed through. I began to feel like a snob but then decided that I'm not actually a snob, but I have a high regard for my home, property and town and could never abandon them utterly.

I think I am beginning to run on. It's nearly 1 a.m. and perhaps it's past my bedtime. I will continue over the weekend...

Hiatus

2007-10-17T19:08:00.001-04:00

I know I've been terrible at updating this blog lately. I have been incredibly busy and by the time I come home at night, the last thing I want to do is sit down and stare at my computer for another minute. Buuuttt...the good news is: I am now officially on vacation! YAY! Let the celebrating begin. Jeff and I are riding down to North Carolina in style, in my Dad's Cadillac, to visit my brother at Wake Forest. Then we're off to the Outer Banks. I'm looking forward to staring lazily out the window, to eating junk food and to hanging out on the beach. I apologize, this isn't a deep or interesting post; it's just an FYI so that everyone knows where I am. See you next weekend!

2007-10-04T20:17:00.001-04:00

I am getting greedy. I want so many things right now but I can't quite afford them and yet I still think about them constantly. And I'm not being profound here and saying that I want to feel peace with my inner-self or that I want to be all zen-like or anything. The things that I want are just that...things. My current want is a new car. Well, a new/used car. New to me. And I want a Nissan Altima. And I want the color to be Mystic Emerald Metallic. It's so PRETTY! I just researched the price online (because it's so damn easy when everything is right at your fingertips), and as I'm yelling to Jeff down the hallway to ask him the proper downpayment for the price, he wastes no time yelling back at me that we don't even have enough for the downpayment, and that basically ended our car conversation for the day. So.

This isn't to say that we don't splurge occasionally on big ticket items. In fact, yesterday we bought a large flatscreen TV. When I saw the price ring up on the cash register at Best Buy, I have to admit I nearly fell off the stool I was sitting on. You would think that after purchasing something so bank account-draining that I would choose to be frugal. Instead, I am researching car prices and dreaming big. It doesn't mean that I am going to run out and buy the Altima tomorrow, but let's face the facts: the green Chevy Lumina that has serviced me for so many years (since January 2001 to be exact) is on its 156,000th+ mile and it's no longer beautiful. I've spilled one too many cups of coffee on the gray carpet, the sides were splattered with egg yolk in New London by teenage losers so now it's rusting in spots, and I scraped against the red and yellow pole at the McDonald's drive-in one night about five years ago--you get the picture. When I'm driving my car, I feel a bit unprofessional. It's kind of similar to the fact that I can't afford trendy, fashionable clothes: I know that on the inside, a cute, professional, well-dressed Tara is just dying to come out, but instead she has to make due with what she has.

Okay, okay. I just realized that I sound incredibly ungrateful, and I have so much, I do. I love my life and my house and our new furniture...but we all have a wish list, don't we? We are always striving for something more, whether tangible or spiritual. I know material things don't make you a better person, but I would feel more confident if I were able to afford a shiny new car and an Ann Taylor Loft wardrobe.

I had two separate discussions this week, with Jeff and then with Megan. We all came to the same conclusion: that our generation is a "must have" generation. When we see something new/trendy/interesting, we just have to have it. There's no way around it. As soon as a DVD box set comes out, it's ours. We want two Tivos to tape our programs? Done. When our parents recommend that we wait a few months to get settled into the house before buying a couch/loveseat/coffee table/end table, we pause for a second, look at each other, say "Nahhhh" and proceed to Crate & Barrel.

Growing up, I was always excellent at saving money. I would buy maybe one toy a month, and I think my parents mostly bought my books for me. I saved my allowance and report card money. I was responsible. Maybe now there are just so many marketable items that it's overwhelming. But I still have to give myself props, because for every 5 items that I want to buy, I only purchase one.

I know that my grandparents and my parents didn't have half the things that I have at 27. I also know that they hadn't been to Europe four times or on a cruise or to Hawaii. It was just completely unprecedented at the time, and they have nothing to compare their lives to except for future generations; our generation. I guess we literally have the world at our fingertips, both online and in real time. And that's just something I find hard to pass up.

2007-10-03T21:22:00.000-04:00

I want a pumpkin, apple cider, mums, corn chowder, and a big pile of crunchy leaves to jump in. I want to wear my cute puffy vest over a long-sleeved shirt with jeans and lace-up brown shoes to go hiking. I want the crisp air in the morning to fill my lungs and invigorate me before I even get into my car and drive to work (er, Dunkin' Donuts. First things first).

I DON'T want 80 degree weather in October. I don't want to wear my summer clothes for another half a second. I don't want humidity, iced coffee, cookout food or plants. I am tired of taking care of our hanging baskets on the deck. They need more attention than I am willing to give them, and besides, it is October. Die already! I want to see pretty, colorful leaves covering the ground. I don't want to see wishy-washy brownish green leaves clinging to the trees.

Where is the Fall that we all know and love? I feel like it's the summer that never ends...yes it goes on and on, my friends...I know that there are people out there who embrace the everlasting warm weather but really. Enough already.

Rachel and I are getting together on Saturday. We both want pumpkins and we're hoping to go hiking somewhere locally, and other than that we threw around the idea of drinking wine and baking cookies (and maybe addding a little wine to the cookies? I don't know). All I'm saying is that I better be able to wear corduroy pants and a sweater because I am not picking out my pumpkin wearing shorts and flip flops. It's practically sacrilege.

2007-09-27T21:50:00.000-04:00

When I lived in London, I walked everywhere. From our flat on Sutherland Avenue to the grocery store blocks away...from Farringdon Station to City University...from Leicester Square to Trafalgar. I did some of my best thinking on those walks. London is a city that's full of life but not in an overwhelming, fast-paced way. It has a pulse but it's beneath the surface--in the walls of the National Gallery, throughout the bricks of the White Tower, under the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral. The streets are busy, the bars have an energy, the restaurants are warm and inviting and there is color everywhere. Neon blue for Pizza Express, red and green lights in Piccadilly, blue and red trim on the Tower Bridge. Orange easyeverything internet cafes. I don't know if it was merely my mind's eye but storefronts sparkled there in a way that they don't here. Westminster Abbey gleamed in the sunlight despite the fact that its facade is dark gray and shadowy. Even Highgate Cemetery looked beautiful with the play of light through the trees. I loved London so much that I still think of it as a second home to this day. I've been there four times and I know that I could live there for a year or two if I ever had the chance.

I never felt rushed or threatened there, and I remember feeling like I fit in almost immediately. In fact, Jeff is convinced that I lived there in a past life (as a writer of course) and that I must have died when a horse-and-buggy ran me down in the middle of the road. (I am horribly afraid of getting into a car accident although in this life I've never been involved in anything more severe than a fender bender.) What I miss the most is the walking. I take many walks here and at work, and while they are relaxing, they don't add up to walking miles and miles each day. My head would feel so clear as I briskly passed the local Pret-a-Manger on the way to class, or as I listened to my Walkman (yes, it was before the invention of iPods believe it or not!) on a Saturday afternoon by the River Thames. I need to find a way to de-stress that's as satisfying as those long, powerful and thought-provoking walks. And I'd like to find it sooooon.

2007-09-19T22:12:00.000-04:00

Isn't it funny how the little things can literally see you through a long week? Right now I am living for pumpkin spice Friday. What exactly is pumpkin spice Friday, you might inquire. Well, Megan stops at Starbucks everyday on her way to work, and last week we decided that this Friday we would both indulge in some seasonal flavored coffee. Seeing as pumpkin spice ranks a close second to gingerbread latte on my hot drinks scale, I have been waiting in anticipation for days now as if putting my hands around that cup will actually assist me in obtaining a major goal of some kind. Seriously, though. (Note to self: you use the word seriously far too often.) The minute to minute play-by-play of my life isn't always rife with excitement...unless you consider processing memberships and producing accounting reports enthralling, which I don't. But blasting Tori Amos at 9:00 a.m. and screaming "EVERY FINGER IN THE ROOM IS POINTING AT ME", getting up from my desk to randomly dance/do jumping jacks/make faces at Margot and Karen in the other office through the window during the 3:00 p.m. lull, and contemplating about how one reads their address with a straight face when they live on Weekeepeemee Road are all the types of instances that get me through the day.

Many people would consider my life monotonous. I know what to expect at work. I have my routines at home, both in the morning and when I come home at night. I eat the same kinds of food, I take walks. I talk with friends. I blog. I read. I watch girly TV. But I am funny and witty. I know this because I take the time to make people laugh. To cheer them up if they're about to rip someone's head off. I sing at the top of my lungs at work off-key to break up the tedious aspect of our jobs and to lighten the mood. I am pro-active and willing to help, and I take my career and life very seriously. However, I also take the time to smile...to tell Kermit jokes...to send silly forwards labeled "How to stop office gossip" because I want people to know that I care. That I'm interesting. That I'm interested.

Today Erica called me from up the street in the Production Shop. Not for business reasons, but to ask me what my favorite drink was because she had a list of drinks that matched up to certain personality traits. I answered apple martini and she basically told me I was high maintenance. I laughed. It was human interaction, and it had nothing to do with numbers or budgets or events or work. I appreciated the extra 2 minutes that it took out of her day.

Tonight I went for a walk by myself. I ended up sitting on a large piece of driftwood overlooking the water and I thought "This is an amazing view and it's right at my fingertips." I stared out over the ocean for about 10 minutes and then I continued walking. As I was wandering down the grid of streets in our neighborhood, I had the pleasure of first smelling burning leaves (my favorite)...then a block later the soft and comforting smell of fabric softener...and at the end of the street: fresh, cut grass. I felt like I was in heaven and I was only a quarter of a mile away from my own house. I love it. I love the little things because they truly make every day stand out. I don't know what I would do without them.

A Rainy Saturday

2007-09-15T11:12:00.000-04:00

I secretly enjoy rainy days. Even rainy Saturdays. There's always something cozy about gazing out the window at the stream of water running down the street while you're wrapped up in a comfy blanket on the couch. Rainy days are an excuse to be lazy for a change. I'm usually doing something all the time and if it's sunny out, I feel the need to be productive. I should...mow the lawn, go for a walk, plan a picnic, sweep the deck, shop at the outlets, etc. Although I suppose you could say the same for rainy days. I guess I should be motivated to do something productive INdoors like...unpack boxes, clean the floors, dust the furniture, organize the junk drawer, get rid of old clothes. But for some reason it's not as pressing for me to be productive on days like today because, eh, I just want to relax. I feel like reading. Like watching The Travel Channel for 3 hours straight. Like hanging out in my shorts and sweatshirt and not bothering to do my hair. For those of you who know me well, you probably know that I would never leave the house looking unkempt...but on rainy days, who really cares? I am productive 96% of the time, and rainy days offer me a reprieve.

Last night I went to the Book Barn after work because this week I blasted through yet another $14 book which was only halfway decent. Lately I've had pretty mediocre luck in the book choosing department. I've read about five in the past month and a half, and not one was worth telling a friend about. Seeing as the only fun activity I've had time for recently has been reading, I find that sad. So if anyone has any suggestions for me, by all means, please let me know. I'm not a huge fan of actual chick lit unless it's also well-written (such as Bridget Jones's Diary, The Reading Group or something similar); however, I am up for any type of interesting fiction or a decent memoir.

They are currently rearranging their teen section at the Book Barn so after I picked out two books from the adult fiction section, I decided to peruse the titles for young adults. I laughed out loud upon seeing the "Point" books from my teenage years--the murder mysteries by Christopher Pike and Richie Tankersley Cusick...then I moved down the aisle and saw the "Freshmen" series I loved to read in high school...and even further down were stacks and stacks of unalphabetized books just waiting to be organized. It was comforting to be in that environment because as far back as I can remember, book stores have been home to me. When I was 8 or 9, I would literally become giddy with excitement when we entered the (very tiny) Waldenbooks at the Naugatuck Valley Mall in Waterbury. Obviously it can't compare to the present-day meccas known as Borders and Barnes and Noble, but at the time all I cared about was buying my one Baby-sitters Club or Sweet Valley Twins book a week. I remember rushing into the store, basically saying "See ya" to my parents and hightailing it to the back where the young adult section used to live. Wringing my excited little fingers all the while.

This week was a stressful one for me, but as soon as I surrounded myself with those familiar titles, I began to relax. That is my method of escape. As nostalgic and silly as it may sound, it brings me back to a time when I had no real worries, and it truly makes me happy. I could sit in the young adult section at the Book Barn (because it's less embarrassing than pulling up a chair to read a book for 13-year-olds in Borders!) for an hour and not get bored. If I'm reallly lucky, a cat might just wander up next to me to hang out and then life really would be perfect.

Seriously, though, rainy days and books go together. All I need to feel content today is a good book, a soft blanket, a mug of coffee and comfy clothes. Looks like I'm all set.

2007-09-10T21:48:00.000-04:00

I am sleepy. I say that almost every night around this time. I honestly can't remember when I last enjoyed a terrific sleep-through-the-entire-night slumber. It's been months, at least. I always seem to have so much on my mind that it either seeps out in dream interpretations or literally keeps me awake so that I toss and turn constantly. I battle concerns all night long...and I feel for my poor crumpled up pillows.

My current concern: Tomorrow is Laurie's last day ever at Goodspeed. She has played an integral role in my development there, both personally and professionally. From Opening Night parties to martinis at Lupo to venting walks and Editorial meetings for Curtain, she has been there...as a sounding board, a co-worker, an advice-giver and good friend. She has been the "go-to girl" for everyone in the organization (she has jokingly referred to herself as the Jane of All Trades) and I know that she will sincerely be missed.

As I've mentioned several times in previous blogs, I don't necessarily like change...even when I know it's for the better. I prefer my nostalgic, carefree comfort bubble. (Perhaps that's why one of my friends chose the adjective "idealistic" to describe me in my Johari Window. http://kevan.org/johari?name=TaraAutrey). I usually tend to think of myself as realistic verging on cynical due to my sarcasm and dry sense of humor, but I suppose that she's right in a way. I hold onto the past, I view the memories in my head with such a high regard that occasionally I find it difficult to truly appreciate the present for what it's worth. It's an awful trait, really, to focus on friendships that dwindled away years ago...to reminisce about the joys of being 12 when in actuality being 12 proved to be a serious hardship sometimes.

I know that change is necessary in life. It helps us grow as people, it challenges us to reach for new heights merely because the person who used to assist us is no longer available. I suppose it's a sign of maturity to just accept and get used to the various types of changes that occur. Over the course of the past year, I have experienced a lot of positive change: our marriage, a new last name, a house. These instances are obviously shaping my life for the better, so I don't question them. But it's the more challenging changes--when the people you love leave your organization...or move...or stop calling you...or even stop loving you altogether...that you have to face head-on. We're constantly defining ourselves by examining the pieces of the puzzle that make up our persona. Every change and every reaction serves to further enhance our experience. I don't know if I necessarily believe in the "blessing in disguise" cliche, but I do know that life moves on whether you are ready or not. I hope that I'm ready, but my mood may be off for a few days. A few weeks, even.

And I am still sleepy.

Six Years Ago

2007-09-10T20:15:00.000-04:00

9-11-01 (from my personal journal)

This day will go down in the History books as one of the most violent terrorist attacks against America. This morning 2 passenger planes were hijacked and smashed into each tower of the World Trade Center. Then 2 other hijacked planes crashed: one into the Pentagon and one in Pennsylvania (its possible destination the Capitol or White House?) There was also a report of a flight crashing on or around Camp David.

I first heard of the story when I came into work. Around 9:00 a.m. Karlene came in and told me a plane had crashed into the side of the World Trade Center. At that time I thought it was a possible accident or something but a few minutes later Karlene's sister Pam from Florida called and said that another plane crashed into the second tower (just 18 minutes after the first one). Then Jeff called and other clients were calling, buzzing about the news. At this point, these phone calls were our only source of information.

Then we tried plugging in our TV but it didn't work without a cable so Cesar and Jose found us a cable and hooked up the TV in my office. The four of us (C, J, K) and Tony all sat at the TV to watch...apparently while we were hooking everything up the first tower completely crumbled to the ground, totally collapsed. We were watching Channel 3 with Dan Rather, and they showed the smoky New York skyline, now with only one Twin Tower, and they kept showing actual footage of the 2nd plane exploding in the side of the second tower. Anchor newspeople gave first-hand accounts , found eyewitnesses, and everyone speculated who was behind the attacks. (Afghanistan? Palestinians?) Then they showed the lone 2nd tower standing on its own, billowing with smoke. Cesar had just said it looks like it's leaning a little, when all of a sudden on live TV the 2nd tower crumbled and vanished, disappearing without a trace. People ran through the streets in mass chaos, inhaling smoke, getting hit with debris and covered in inches of ash.

Everything major occurred between 8:45 a.m. and 11:30 a.m. We found out about the Pentagon shortly after New York City which is still burning now at 10:45 p.m. The number of casualties at this point remains unknown, but 50,000 people worked at the Trade Center, 200 firefighters are missing and many people got trapped under falling materials, or even incinerated as they sat in traffic.

9-13-01

2 days later. God I can't even spell or write anymore. As you can imagine, it has been an emotionally draining few days for everyone. The 18 hijackers have been identified by the FBI but there are still between 20-30 accomplices at large possibly in the U.S. and Germany. Most of these Middle Eastern men have ties to Osama Bin Laden, a millionaire who has been living in Afghanistan.

Over 4,000 people are missing at the WTC, and about 94 confirmed dead. This is because the rescue effort, although large and amazing in its dedication, is moving along slowly due to the tons of steel and concrete that buried so many people. There have been a few glimmers of hope such as cell phone calls from beneath the rubble as well as the rescue of about 14 people alive under it all. But for the most part, Manhattan is full of many relatives with pictures and stories of their loved ones, breaking America's heart. From answering machine messages to last minute cell phone calls, from people's biographies to their tears and prayers...

Everyone waits for a sign that their brothers, husbands, wives, etc. will be among the survivors. America has united in this attack--Democrats and Republicans, rich and poor, young and old--in an effort to overcome these "acts of war" as President Bush called them. 700,000 people went to the Red Cross to donate blood in 24 hours, and constant donations of clothing, food, water and money have been in supply. Thousands of volunteers rake the scene for any signs of life, although many become terribly affected by what they see.

2007-09-04T20:21:00.000-04:00

I've been feeling less than adequate these days. Well, maybe I should rephrase that. I feel very adequate in most aspects of my life, but when it comes to my education and future career, I am completely uncertain. Currently, my brother and his girlfriend are studying for their MBAs at Wake Forest (they are 3 years younger than I am), Jeff is working towards his Master's degree through Pfizer and Temple University, and most of the people who received a Connecticut Teaching Certificate are doing just that: they're teaching. Meanwhile, I am merely floundering around trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. It just doesn't seem right. I have a decent degree and lately I've been hearing stories about people with lower-level degrees earning almost twice as much as I do. Sometimes it seriously brings me to tears of frustration. I don't know what else to do. I am tired of working so hard and yet feeling like I have nothing to show for it. I am sick of wearing the same four outfits because most of my clothes hang off me and yet I can't afford to buy new, cute and professional ones. I am 27 and I guess I always thought that by this age I would be making a real living with a career that I could be proud of. And it's not to say that I don't care about and appreciate what I do--because I still understand and strive to fulfill the mission--but I am smarter than this. I can do more than this. I want to make a difference...and I'm just not sure how to go about doing it.

2007-08-27T18:38:00.000-04:00

Why does it always seem like August is the month of change? It used to mean new lunchboxes and backpacks for the first day of school, new teachers and bus routes and school shopping trips with Mom. August was always a sign that summer was about to let go of its tenacious hold; a warning that the aroma of burning leaves would soon fill the crisp air. I never truly enjoyed August because, as my friend Angela so eloquently put it "It's like a long Sunday." It's so true, if you think about it. August only slowly stalls the inevitable from happening. When we were little, eventually we would all be back on the bus riding to school, we would have homework and projects dutifully doodled in our assignment pads.

But most of the time, come September, we realized that change could, in fact, be good. Maybe fifth grade would be more interesting than fourth grade. Maybe my Care Bears lunchbox would reap more compliments than my Strawberry Shortcake one. Maybe I would have fun at the middle school dance that I wasn't old enough to attend the previous year.

Today was full of change...not for me, but for a few of my close friends. I want to write about them on here but they aren't my stories to tell. All I can say is that their changes encompass three of the major milestones we all encounter in life at some point or another: birth, career and death. My thoughts are with Heather right now and I know she will have a beautiful baby girl within the next twelve hours or so. I'm not going to mention the next person's name just yet but they know who they are--many congratulations and best wishes to you...and Megan, I hope the past few days have gone as smoothly as they could have considering the circumstances.

I just realized that this is starting to sound like a personal email, but I couldn't help but notice the common link between all of the changes I discovered today. I felt like I should document them. We are always making choices to propel ourselves forward. We choose to become parents, we choose which direction we want our career to take if we are no longer satisfied, and although we don't choose to die, the choices that we make during life certainly define us at the end of our days. I can only hope that I make the right choices. I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about every aspect of my life, and knowing that I've done the best that I can so far helps to keep me grounded.

I used to think of September as the first month of the year because it was the first month of the school calendar. I'm going to wipe my slate clean and pretend that September is New Year's this year as well. Watch for a very positive, goal-oriented Tara in the coming months. You won't be disappointed.

Couches are comfy

2007-08-23T20:41:00.000-04:00

I'm sprawled out on our new couch in the living room, ceiling fan blowing, crickets chirping outside (do they chirp? they certainly sound chirpy) with a nice, toasty laptop keeping my legs warm. I don't think there's a cozier place in the entire universe on nights like this. I am content with myself and my surroundings, writing from the soft glow of the hallway light. The only thing missing is a cat curled up by my feet. Then life would be perfect...

A couch is a very important element of a living room. Heather and I have discussed this before, and I think Corrine may have touched upon it in one of her blog entries as well. Certain couches are lumpy, others stiff, some are noisy because the leather creaks and others are just...hideously ugly. When I was really little, my parents had a retro-looking brown, black and white plaid couch and matching arm chair (which complemented the olive green carpet in the living room and the brown and orange carpet in the adjoining kitchen). When I was about six, they upgraded the entire downstairs--pretty new carpet for both rooms as well as a brand new couch and loveseat. They were never the type to plastic-wrap the furniture or tell my brother and I that we were banned from the room, so that couch became my first favorite couch...where I watched "The Dark Crystal" with Ryan and Dad while eating Cape Cod potato chips, drinking Pepsi and hugging Paddington Bear with all my might. (on a side note, I lost Paddington Bear in the bathroom at the airport in California nearly a year later and had a crying fit all the way home)...I read "Flowers in the Attic" on that couch and stared out the bay window praying for school to be cancelled in the winter. I shivered on that couch under blankets when I was feeling sick and my parents would come home and pat me on the head, asking me if I needed anything. It was my childhood couch.

My next favorite couch was (is) Jeff's navy blue one from IKEA. I first became acquainted with this couch in 1999 when I began visiting him at his off-campus apartment after a night of proofreading at The Daily Campus. I would wander in around midnight and we would watch movie after movie...for some reason, 3 a.m. never seemed an absurd bedtime to either of us...despite my 8 a.m. classes. We lounged around on that couch during Sunday mornings, we would eat almost an entire plate of freshly baked biscuits for "brunch", then at night we would make mac & cheese...and it didn't seem to matter that we were being completely unhealthy because we were together and happy. I danced around wearing his too-big-for-me American Eagle sweatshirt, and he made my stuffed animal talk and do dances (that's how I knew he was the one...he had a sense of humor about the fact that I still slept with a teddy bear...and he even imitated his voice properly...because after all, Beary DOES talk and he has a high-pitched voice). I fell in love on that couch many times over.

As I sit on this couch, tonight and every night, I contemplate the future...will we have holidays here, will people enjoy a glass of wine with us in this room, will my children someday take a nap here with me? Will my cat curl up across from me on the loveseat? What does the future hold? I know that many wonderful things are still in store...and I know that a lot of them will happen right here.

Oh, those Sweet Valley twins

2007-08-21T18:22:00.000-04:00

Today was the perfect day to clean out my desk at work. It was rainy and chilly outside and yet cozy in our warm (hmm, stuffy, actually) office and, what can I say, I was tired of updating the revenue document. So around 3:30 I pulled open my file drawer and began sifting...and sorting...and sifting again. I read through old emails from Laurie and Beth (who has worked at the Bushnell for almost two years now) where I had composed a lovely little poem including the two rhyming words "brie" and "pee." I found notes from the first Gala I ever attended, the Britain calendar I received for Christmas in 2004, an old lunchbox (that was a bit sketchy), surveys from Angela and Lisa, the guacamole recipe that I thought Theresa had never given me, etc. And then I rediscovered an envelope which I had so carefully tucked away back in May...an envelope with Francine Pascal's name and return address!

When that piece of mail appeared in our department's mailbox, I immediately pounced on it and came bouncing back down the hallway with glee. I believe I then set the envelope down momentarily, then promptly picked it back up and kissed it. Francine Pascal is a Goodspeed donor, and inside the envelope was her contribution to this year's Gala honoring Jerry Herman. But you might be asking--what's so great about Francine Pascal? Many of you are probably not aware of this, but she is the creator of the greatest young adult series of all time, the Sweet Valley Twins, Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield.

On my fourth day at Goodspeed, I had the opportunity to meet Ms. Pascal at the Opening Night party for Mack & Mabel. Her brother Michael Stewart, who passed away years ago, had collaborated with Jerry Herman (are you seeing the connection now? Good.) to write the book for the musical. (Jerry was there as well for Opening, as he had composed the music). When I say "I had the opportunity to meet Ms. Pascal," what I mean is, she was standing there in all her glory about five feet away from me but I, being the newly-appointed bumbling Development Associate, could not muster up enough courage to go and profess my undying love for her Twins.

To this day, I terribly regret my decision. After all, how many times are you in the same room as your childhood idol? Oh, wait. One time I was in a room with Julie Andrews (and half of her cast) and I DID speak to her! Go me! Umm, even if I stuttered and what came out of my mouth was, "Would you like some rejected cheese pieces?"--that is still a story that will live in infamy. (Similar to the one in which Big Jules threw out her Power Bar wrapper in Lisa's garbage can and we debated selling it on Ebay for about two minutes before we decided we would most likely get fired). And at least I went to a Jodi Picoult book signing where she told me I had a lovely coat. Hmm, come to think of it, I blanked talking to her as well...I think I was super original..."I love the way you write. It's just so real" or something to that effect.

My point is, if you are ever that close to someone you admire, do yourself a favor and tell them. I'm sure they will be flattered (I'm even sure that Francine would have been--I mean how many people are still obsessed with the 1987 phenomenon of Sweet Valley Twins? I am probably her sole crazy fan!). It's worth it in the long run, despite whatever embarassment you might have to overcome as a prerequisite. In fact, my "Garden State" moment may very well be asking Julie Andrews if she wants rejected cheese pieces. I bet that no one else ever muttered that exact phrase to her, ever. "Blah blah blah I loved The Sound of Music" just doesn't have the same ring to it. Agreed?

A bit tedious.

2007-08-20T19:31:00.000-04:00

Burnt popcorn. The acrid, headachy-smell that ranks right up there with the pungent aroma of nail polish remover. I don't know I managed to do it, because I put the bag in for 2 minutes and 30 seconds like I always do...and yet the smell has permeated the entire house. So here I sit, huddled in my sweatshirt, waiting for the crisp air blowing in from all four windows to make some semblance of difference. It's reminiscent of my freshman year at UConn on the sixth floor of Hale Hall. Someone would always be making popcorn--for breakfast, lunch, dinner, a snack, it didn't matter--and at least once a week I would come home to this nauseating stench which would last for hours and hours and occasionally an entire day. Ugh. I can't say I miss that aspect of college.

I meant to add in my last entry that being a Weight Watchers leader would serve as a supplement to my current income; it's not a full-time job in and of itself.

This blog is somewhat random. Please blame the popcorn. I can't think straight.

A certain calling

2007-08-19T19:55:00.001-04:00

"On another note, have you considered working for us? You have a very good and caring approach that I think would help lots of people. Think about it." I received this email on Friday afternoon from my Weight Watchers leader, Katie. She has been an incredible inspiration to me this past year because of her uplifting attitude, her positive words of encouragement, her empathetic nature...and the fact that she acts human and is willing to share her mistakes with a roomful of people. (She once admitted to eating an entire package of Fig Newtons after a stressful day). This isn't the first time she has asked me to consider being a leader, either. A few months ago she handed me a postcard regarding training information, and although I was flattered, I stuffed it into my bag, mentioned it in passing to Jeff and my parents, and then completely forgot about it until her recent email.

Now that I have reached my goal, I am eligible to become a leader and I have decided it's something worth looking into for the future. Throughout my life, I have never really been a leader. I was never the person in the group to raise her hand confidently, or to saunter to the front of the class in order to give a presentation. In fact, for the most part I would sit towards the side of the classroom in the hopes that I could camoflauge myself against the wall. This changed gradually in college after my English 105 T.A. told me that my writing was excellent but that she wished I would speak up and share my ideas with the rest of the class. I didn't immediately follow her advice that semester, but over the course of my four years at UConn, I became more comfortable with my knowledge in my major field. As I began taking Irish Lit., Journalism and Creative Writing courses, I heard her voice in my head and often participated and shared my opinions, if somewhat timidly.

I have gained a lot of confidence in my 20s, but I've still never really seen myself as a teacher. Even when I was student teaching fourth grade and loving every minute of it, something in the back of my head was always murmuring "You can't really do this...you're shy...you wouldn't have good classroom management skills..." even though everyone else--from my students to my cooperating teachers and my friends--thought that I would be great ("you have so much patience," "you are so good with kids".) So when I finally received my K-6 Certification, I attempted to find a teaching job for a few months (I applied to 54 positions) but when nothing came of it, I quickly resorted back to my English degree because it provided me with a comfort zone. I could return to writing, editing and playing a role behind the scenes as opposed to taking stage front and center, where people would look to me to make the right decisions and show them the way.

Despite all this, though, I have always wanted to make a difference. I remember when I first mentioned becoming a leader to my Dad in passing a few months ago, I had said "But I don't think I would really consider it", and he questioned me: "Why not? You wouldn't want to make a difference in people's lives?" which made me think for a moment but we ended up changing the subject and discussing something else. But come to think of it, I do want to help people. I want to have the opportunity to say "I've been there. What can I do for you? How can I help?" because that is at the core of my identity: a genuine interest in people and their well-being. Concern for those who might need a little prodding. Ears for those who just need someone to listen to them. It might honestly be a perfect fit for me, after all.