Joss Whedon is my King

Apparently Christmas comes in July now.

This is described as a "supervillain musical internet miniseries event." By JOSS WHEDON. Starring Neil Patrick Harris and Nathan Fillion. Can you hear the "SQUEE!!!!" coming from my living room?

www.drhorrible.com

I Have Dreams Like This. But With Flamethrowers.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=pVKnF26qFFM

And the Award Goes To ...

Rachel, Jules, Sofia and me with our new shinies

It was a busy week at the ranch, indeed. My team and I (well, at least those of us not currently on vacation -- a semi-skeleton crew, truly) went to the Rochester PRSA PRism awards on Thursday, as we had sent in a number of entries. I am pleased to report that, out of six submitted entires, we took five of the awards in the not-for-profit area: three Awards of Excellence, and two PRisms (the top award). The Web team received both an AoE AND a PRism -- a sweep of the entire Not-for-Profit: Website category. It was quite a nice night! The College's president, our vice-president and our director attended as well, which was lovely. I was sad that my cohort Fran wasn't able to join us, but seeing as how the REASON he was unable to join us was that he's out globetrotting in Italy and Egypt as part of his honeymoon, well ... I'll try and hold back my tears on his behalf.

Hazy, Lazy

The weekend was crazy-beautiful: hot, humid, hazy ... all the things the preceding eight months were not. It was sunny and breezy and just all-around (HOT) gorgeous, so the tall man and I decided to have a few amigos over for a casual evening.

SO, last night six or seven brave souls ventured over in the evening to hang on the back patio and generally chill. There was a touch of the badminton and, of course, nibbles. We had crudite, chips, shrimp cocktail, radishes with sweet-cream butter & sea salt, and krispie treats. The gin and tonic bar was open, and a cooler full of pop and water and Mike's Hard Lemonade sat at the ready.

As twillight fell, bug spray was applied and chairs were brought out to the yard as we popped popcorn and passed jujubes in preparation for summer's first "Drive In," which we projected on the back side of the house. This year's season opener: the one, the only, the classic Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

All in all, it was a lovely evening. Sitting out in the yard, sprayed with (un)scented OFF bug spray. reclining on the futon, watching my friends by the flickering light of projector, I took a moment to yet-again be grateful for everything I have. All the good, all the bad, has led me to this moment and place, and I am so blessed: all the friends, all the laughter, the food, the life, the enjoyment. As I sat there and watched the heat lightning in the distance, listening to my friends make snarky comments about the film, I was yet again reminded to be appreciative for the thousands of amazing things that are in my life every day. I am so grateful for it all, and for the renewed ability to appreciate it all more fully in each instant. It was wonderful, and I could not help but smile.

And then, moment acknowledged, I turned back to the screen to watch a giant killer tomato eat little Billy. Poor, poor little Billy.

Stranger in a Strange Land

Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? But hey! It's good to see you. How the heck have you been? How's the wife and kids? Come on in, have a drink. Cracker and cheese spread?

Some highlights:

My great aunt Anna, who is a Sister of Mercy, celebrated her 92nd birthday last month. We had a family pizza party and celebrated. It was really quite lovely.

And then ... hmm. Well, I've been crazed working, of course. My desk has been downright terrifying.

My fabulous teammate Fran then prepped for a most exciting event: his marriage to the wonderful Kelly. The Naz IA team threw Fran a wedding shower, and even made him a very special gift of custom-created bride-and-groom Nazareth Golden Flyers. In his wedding colors. Wearing cool shoes.

Of course, the shower was followed by the wedding, a truly gorgeous event. Fran and Kelly were both radient, and the team was honored to be invited to attend such an important and wonderful happening. We partied. A lot.

And I'm still walking, walking, walking. Still have the cane, but that's ok -- it's only a matter of time. Sadly my blood levels are pretty screwy; that therapeutic level for my meds? Not so much. The blood thinners aren't so much thinning my blood at this time, which is worrisome. I imagine my blood is more chunky, sludging through my veins slowly like ...

But that's ok. I'll survive, and still enjoy life ... and all that Rochester has to offer.

Last night, I spent the evening at local restaurant 2Vine, a favorite haunt of mine, hanging with my team and enjoying life. We sat on the garden patio and sipped drinks (Cosmo, with a wedge) and enjoyed the night breeze. It was good. Life is good.

It's Going to Be a Bright, Bright, Bright Sunshiney Day

So. Let's see. Hmmm, it's been a few days so I'm sure SOMEthing has happened. Let's break it down, old school, shall we?

• Work: Work is insane. I have no other way to put it. If my head doesn't explode by the end of this calendar year I will be absolutely ASTOUNDED. I am in meeting after meeting after meeting about the large projects we are taking on, and just the *meetings* are a lot of work. We haven't even gotten to the real "work" of the projects yet! Thankfully I have a amazingly great team (Hi, K, J, A, S, M, F and A!). On Friday a few of us revived one of my favorite traditions, the "Ice Cream Benches," where we grab ice cream and then go sit on the little hidden patio down the hall while enjoying the summer warmth. Thank goodness for these sanity-saving kinds of moments!

• Home: I'm able to get around the house much more easily, as evidenced by the fact that on Friday night (gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous!) I was able to get into my beloved hammock -- with J's assistance, of course. It was amazing, actually. The weather has been beyond beautiful the last few days, sunny and 80s. We worked in the yard yesterday (ok, *J* worked in the yard as I sat in the hammock and directed) until we were actually sweaty, and plans for the summer home improvement season are slowly taking shape.

• Friends: It was a great weekend to get together with friends. Cath came over for a visit and dinner at the King & I (Cath would say I still have squid breath from my dinner choice; I beg to differ). After, we listened to 80s club music and journeyed to Garth's to meet up with J and Kim and Dave and the assembled Geeks for a small get-together. There was "Rock Band" and munchies and visiting, which added up to a lovely evening. I didn't even get home until after midnight -- like a real grown-up!

• MBLF: Like I mentioned, I'm moving around a little more easily and am not hurting quite as much as I had been. I'm icing a lot because the swelling is a little intense but PT is helping the leg get stronger and my therapist isn't too worried that I'm hurting myself. I'm just going to keep trucking along!

And now J and I are folding laundry and watching that 1988 cinema classic Sorority Babes at the Slimeball Bowl-a-Rama, which just issued the memorable line "I have your pants." A meta-statement for us all, really.

Chillin'

And so a quiet Sunday morning. I'm sipping cocoa, with cats Bina and Ramad curled on the bed next to me, sleeping. Rarely do they look this sweet and innocent, so this is lovely. Yesterday I had a bit of a crazy day: visited the nurning home and saw my grandmother, went to Target (good sale on sunhats, y'all!), and generally tooled about. Then I spent the evening with an iced, elevated foot so today I can walk again.

Snow is in the air, sadly, but by the end of the week it should be spring again. Soon I'll dislodge the cats, arise, and go to Wegmans so my little family has food for the week. It seems a good day to bake, so I think I'll do that as well ... almond cookies, anyone?

Oot and Aboot

I turned my face to the right and the sun shone a golden red through my closed eyelids, the warmth almost like a scald after months of nothing but distant, pale, watery white light. The passenger-side power window whirred downward, unused to the movement, and the wind swept in abruptly, bringing the smell of wet earth and growing green things. My hair whipped wildly, plastering itself across my mouth and tangling ferociously at the ends so that soon my fingers would not be able to comb through more than an inch or so before becoming snarled. I clutched my iPod, listening as Prince's voice came over the radio (volume at 8) and told me that he didn't want to stop 'til he reached the top because baby, you know it -- he's a star. It was evening. It was painless. It was spring, and I remembered.

Earlier in the day, I had tea with my friend Barb. We chatted about the weather, her children and granddaughter, our pets. At one point, we talked about our weekends and the gorgeous weather we had enjoyed. I told her that I had spent my Sunday working in the yard, even had a little pink around the edges of cheeks and on my forehead from the sun. The warmth had soaked into my sweatshirt, into my skin, until even my bones had a blazing moment of radiating heat for the first time in what seemed a century. I had stood, I told Barb, in the grass and mud, with my eyes closed and barely-steady legs planted, face tilted toward the sky, feeling the sun burn into me, baptize me, with it pure, pale-pink mark.

"The thing is," I told her. "The thing is that, ever since everything happened, I appreciate it all more. I understand it all more. I don't take it for granted, not a moment. Not a second." I felt embarassed to admit it; I felt even more embarassed that such a common event like standing -- standing! -- in my yard made form, even now in the retelling, a rush of hot tears behind my eyes.

Barb was silent for a moment, and took a long sip of tea out of her Eeyore mug. She looked at me. "What a gift," she said quietly.

Energizer Bunny

It all started on Friday ...

.. when we woke up and faced a landscape ripe with snow. Suddenly, the trees were heavy and budding branches looked like delicate lace carvings. As I told J, it was rather like living inside an Ansel Adams photograph for a day.

It's been a busy week at work, so Friday night J and I fetched some groceries (hot date night!) in preparation for Saturday A.M. because ...

... my mom arrived on the scene, up to visit for the first time since January. The last time she saw me I was about 48 hours out of the hospital, post-pulmonary emboli, so I'm pleased to report that she thought I looked a great deal better. I was even able to show her how I "walk" (and again, I use only the loosest definition of the term here) with my little old-lady walker and Das Boot. Very sexy, no?

We trolled along Saturday afternoon, visited my great-aunt Anna (more on this in a separate, later post) and then met the fab K & D for my first real dinner out at Ristorante Lucano. It was ... magnificent. For those unfamiliar, Lucano is a little Italian restaurant that lives in a tiny strip mall at the corner of East and Winton. From the outside it looks like nothing -- literally, a hole in the wall, perched near a dry cleaner's and a Subway restaurant. But inside? There are three small rooms and perhaps 18-20 tables, total. It's homey, intimate, a little upscale and oh, lord. Real Italian food: SO GOOD. I had this amazing creamy potato garlic soup, followed by osso buco (a house speciality) and then some ice-cold limoncello. And to finish? A piece of the homemade tirimisu. I learned later from the owner that her mother was the one to make the tirimisu, and it showed. Yes, it was gorgeous, but you could see that this dish was not all about the flash and the sauce swirls and the little pretty embellishments placed just so, but was about the FLAVOR: liquor-soaked lady fingers, marscapone, sweet whipped cream, bitter cocoa powder. And knowing some wonderful little Italian grandmother made it, that this was real and wonderful and amazing? Made it all that much more sweet.

We decided the night was young and so, post-dinner, made our way to Barnes and Noble to close the place out and then finally crashed for the night. The next AM we were up bright and early and at it again, this time heading to James Brown's Place for breakfast. In addition to the standard breakfast of eggs and toast (over-medium and Italian, respectively), I also had the JB Porridge. It changed my life in meaningful ways, and I usually don't even like this stuff! But it was thick with cinnamon and granola and nuts and dried fruit, and it came in a lovely little cup with a tiny pitcher of cream, a little dish of brown sugar, and another little dish of nuts and dried fruit. There are no words for how damn good that was, and I strenuously recommend it to anyone and everyone. And also, I plan to go back for more as soon as I can talk J into it.

And then, to finish out my mom's visit, we made one trip to every good Italian's mecca, as it were:

Savoia Pastry Shoppe is just a killer bakery. You can smell the sugar from a block away, and as soon as you enter you are just seduced by the smells and the sights of Italian cookies and breads and pastry, lined up in glass-fronted displays and stacked on wire racks. We scored some St. Joseph's bread (for tomorrow, you know) and a multitude of other yumminess, including my favorite petit fours.

And then we finally staggered home, clutching white paper bakery bags, tummies full to bursting, so Mom could get on her way home and J and I could mainline some Pepto and recover. Vivia la weekend!

Cel-e-brate Good Times -- Come On!

Today is a great day for many reasons, but the one that makes me smile most is that TODAY IS J'S BIRTHDAY!! Yes, that's right: today J turns 41 years old. As his much, much, much younger wife, I want to take this opportunity to wish him a wonderful day and an amazing year-to-come. Baby, I love you. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend and partner in this crazy life of ours. You're the greatest.

Spring Has Sprung (?Question Mark?)

Today is the first day of spring -- huzzah!

However, you'd never know if based on the view outside of my window. The trees are starting to bud, but there is strong, cold wind and snow in the air. On the ride home tonight I saw the very first robin red-breasts of the year ... they sat, almost motionless, eyes wide in my neighbor's front yard. I imagine that they had been elected as lookouts for the the rest of the robins -- advance scouts, if you will. I also imagine that they were wondering what the HELL they were doing back here when it was so obviously still January and also? Where was the spring? The sun? The prancing, leaping fluffy bunnies? Instead of coming back from their winter vacation (The Carolinas? The Keys? Boca? Who can say?) to a warming earth gracefully sprouting greenly back into life, they were standing in mud amidst icy piles of blackened snow and weathering a storm. It had to be a bit of a shock.

If I were a robin on the first day of spring, I have to believe that I would be hella pissed.

Ciao Italia

There's a place in the northern part of town that I love to visit. It's a store, and for me going there is like visiting a cave of wonders.

It's a true old Italian grocery, filled with sights and sounds and smells that take me back to my childhood. Hand-made gnocci and imported penne fill aisle one. The cantucinni cookies my Aunt Rose used to slide me under the kitchen table are in aisle two, next to the 15 varieties of espresso, the ameretti, marinated anchovies, toothpaste tubes of tomato paste and half-gallon jugs of extra virgin olive oil. On aisle three we find an abundance of riches: large tubs of almond paste, creamy toblerone, bulk pignole and ceci beans, jordan almonds, fresh loaves of crusty bread, homemade bread crumbs.

Finally, aisle four. AH, aisle four. Here we encounter the backbones of Italian cuisine: the butcher and the cheesemonger. Sausages stuffed with fennel; deep red meats, rich with creamy veins of marbling; slabs of white, flaky bacala; tins of fresh-made ricotta, whey dripping down the sides; enormous hanging rounds of provelone and parmesean; salumi glistening red and sweet under the florescent lights; prosciutto cut to order by the pound (three types: U.S, Canadian and imported Italian) ... it's all there.

Old men in suit coats, felt hats and black canes resting quietly beside them, sit at little tables, sipping espresso and speaking as much with gesturing hands as with accented voices. Cannoli line up insider display cases, dotted with candied orange rind and rolled in chocolate chips. A tower of bimbi, rich in shining foil wrapping, sit next to the cookies-by-the-pound, awaiting Easter.

And the smells. There really are no words to describe the smell of tens of years of cooking sauce and fresh grated parm and roasting meats and drying herbs and All Things Good. The smell clings to my clothes when I leave, and invariably on the ride home I find myself burying my face in my sleeve to catch one last whiff of heaven.

Once, not long after my grandfather's passing and the sale of the family home, I walked in with my husband. As is my custom I paused just over the threshold to take a deep breath, feeling my muscles relax into the familiarity, and my husband, as is HIS custom, said his ritual phrase: "Smells just like Grandma's house." And it did, the smells of my childhood, the smells of my family, many years past, history soaked into the walls and floor of the house on Holley St. And I knew at that moment that phase of life was over, never to be revisited, and that this moment just inside the grocery store doorway was as close as I would ever get again. And surrounded by the hustle and bustle, standing underneath an old and somewhat faded Italian flag, I took in a deep breath of the past and wept.

Inside, It's So Delightful

It's been a very cozy indoor type of weekend for me. Friday night my dear friend Holly (aka "Fishy") came over for some nibbles. We had chips and veggie sub and whatnot, and spent the evening listening to the 80s music channel and giggling madly. We said "Hello" to Lionel Richie and Wang-Chunged and basically had a fun time.

By the time Fishy left it was really snowing and when J and I woke up on Saturday A.M. it was blowing and dark and there appeared to be lots and lots of snow. The day was spent indoors (my wheelchair and snow are not friends), puttering about. We were basically rutabegas. Our friends the Lugers called to stop over, which was lovely: we always enjoy seeing them and spending time catching up. Jun had made the most AMAZING steamed buns ever - the ginger flavor was intense -- and so we visited and ate. Man, I could eat those things all day, every day! Thanks, Lugers. Once they left J and I put our feet up, listened to some mellow tunes and sipped cocoa. It was a nice way to close the day.

Now it's cold and the snow has ended -- it's very, very sunny but only about 20 degrees (wind chill is 9). There are about 14-18" of snow out there, with much more in the drifts. J is out with the snowblower, and I'm making a grocery list, planning what cookies to make this evening ... we are nothing if not the very PICTURE of domesticity.

Tomorrow is the big appointment with Dr. G, and also marks 13 weeks since surgery (14 since the initial injury, 10 since the broken lungs). Keep your fingers crossed that the doc has good news and that we can start rehabbing MBLF!

Wednesday is the Hopeful Day

Wednesday IS the hopeful day, isn't it? Half the week is gone, and just a few days remain until the shining, shining weekend. I do love me a Wednesday ... but not as much as I love a Friday. :)

Today finds me hanging in my "home office," editing away and catching up on millions and millions (ok, 26) of work e-mails. My Bina-cat is curled up next to me on the pink comforter, just chillin' and being all cat-like. Every now and again she uncurls to bat at my bracelet or give a yawn that seems to unhinge her jaw entirely. It's a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

I also have boot off ... my foot needs a teensy-tiny break. The foot actually looks a little better, I think, but I'll let you be the judge.

Outside is all snow and ice, but inside I am toasty and warm and also, craving a whole-wheat english muffin with strawberry jam. Must go, carbs are calling.