Just call us the Lewis and Clark of Roxbury...

I hope everyone had a happy and safe pride weekend! Well, those of you in NY, Toronto or any other place celebrating pride this past weekend. Due to my current financial circumstances, I was stuck here.. in Boston (which had it's Pride weekend two weekends ago, which I also missed). It was also my best friend's 30th birthday (she lives in NY.. Hi T.!), so I was really bummed about not being able to be in NY. Despite the disappointment though, it ended up being a great weekend.

N. had already taken Monday off, since we were supposed to be at NYC Pride on Sunday, so we had a nice 3 day weekend ahead of us. In my quest to find something free for us to do here in Boston, I came across a Roxbury Garden Walking Tour (we live in Roxbury, in the area known as Fort Hill or Highland Park..or as I like to call it: The Hill), given by an organization called Discover Roxbury.

Now, ever since I moved here, I was amazed at the suburban feel of this neighborhood. I'm not even sure "suburban" is the right word. It doesn't look like it's in Boston, let alone a short 5 minute walk up a hill from a bustling urban area. Once you climb that hill, it feels as though you are.. somewhere else. The traffic signals disappear, buildings evaporate and are replaced by large houses with wrap-around porches. Giant hundred-year-old trees shade the sidewalks (if you even want to call them sidewalks, because they are so narrow that only one person can fit on most of them). There are so many birds chirping that it gives you a headache. And it's.. green. Everywhere you look, everything is covered in green. Ivy snaking up houses, whatever sidewalk is even there is half covered by wildflowers and rouge patches of tall grass. Most of the houses are pretty old, some even look tattered and abandoned.. but many have been restored and many newer houses built to replace those that burned down in the fires of the 1970's and 80's. There is still a large amount of empty lots in the neighborhood, many abandoned and overrun by weeds, but some have been turned into beautiful community gardens. Apparently, this area of Roxbury is famous for its gardens and urban/sustainable "farming". There is even a woman, a few blocks away from our house, that has a farm. Yes, a farm.. complete with chickens and rabbits.

I don't know why we haven't really explored our neighborhood. I mean, I walk my dogs to Highland Park all the time. I've seen the pretty houses and caught glimpses of some community gardens from behind a chain link fence... but we never really knew just how amazing this neighborhood was. That is, until Saturday.

The tour started at 10am at a community garden about 2 blocks from us we didn't even know existed. The garden was pretty enough, and we got to hear all about the history of Roxbury. I learned a lot... that is what I could actually hear. There was a Creepy McCreepster guy constantly interrupting with his outbursts about birds. Apparently he's a lunatic bird watcher and thought we would all love to hear him name every single bird that flew by. Weirdo. But, I digress.  We left the community garden and climbed down this steep hill, back out onto the street. We walk down to this "dead end" (well me and N. always thought it was a dead end)... it isn't. It's actually a hidden portal into Wonderland..I sh*t you not.

 

Told you...

So, none of this was just random gardens. These were actually people's homes. It was a cluster of about 3 houses, all with gorgeous gardens. But, none were more amazing than this one. This house and garden is owned by an older gay couple .. with a dog named Bernice (Bernie for short). Bernie came on the tour with us. (Yes, there's "family" in our neighborhood! There was even a lesbian named Michelle on the tour..AND she's originally from Brooklyn !)

We loved us some Bernie.....

OK.. back to the portal to Wonderland...

This is about where my jaw dropped to the ground and I couldn't seem to mutter anything else but, "wow.." and "Oh. My. God." This couple bought this land... land they claimed to be abandoned and littered with trash, broken washing machines and all sorts of filth.. and transformed it into.. THIS. They said there was a big sloping hill they didn't know what to do with, so they decided (just decided, like they were deciding on having chicken or fish for dinner) to build a waterfall and a pond... with a bridge.

This is their backyard, people.. their flippin' backyard.

 

There's a public trail that cuts across their property, so they made a little meditation corner, complete with a Buddha. They made a mistake telling me that, because I have decided to perch myself on that rock at least 3 times a week. I may even bring a tent and just squat in their backyard.

 

We finally left that oasis, and continued the tour back around the hill...

..and ended at the farm. A farm in the middle of Boston... run by a woman who calls herself Garden Girl. It was absolutely amazing what this woman accomplished on 3/4 of an acre of land.. in the middle of the city. She is growing practically anything you can imagine and has a chicken coop.. with real live chickens in it.

She didn't have goats though, so I was a bit disappointed. But, she did serve us fresh honey mint tea, so I'll forgive her.

By noon, we were back at our house, standing in our backyard.. our heads filled with possibilities. I am so building a pond. N. isn't happy about it, but I don't care. I NEED a pond.

Sunday, we went to N.'s mom's house and a couple of hours later were on our way to New Hampshire with $80 of her brother's money to buy him fireworks (we were secretly itching for an excuse to drive there anyway). When we got to the place, we found out everything was 2 for 1, so you know what that means. Yup, we got fireworks too! Looks like this weekend is going to be interesting.

Alright people, this post is definitely long enough and I've probably bored you all to tears (I'm aware that not everyone finds gardening as exciting as I do). Off to bed I go. But before I go, I'll leave you with a photo of my new Honey Moon Beer Security System:

I dare you to try and take one of my beers.. go ahead. ;-)

Namaste bitches!

-D.

F*ck You Very Much! :-D

In Honor of Gay Pride... a dedication to all the homophobes (via Lily Allen):

Happy Pride everyone! :-)

-D.

Falling off the (food) wagon... again.

So, I totally lied about having fish and veggies for dinner. I even lied about the glasses of water. We had Ethiopian food. And a glass of pinot grigio.

I will point out, however, that I did not intend to lie. I had every intention of eating a healthy meal of fish and veggies. I even defrosted the fish and marinated it. Then I went to pick up N. from work and went to UPS to mail out the painting my friend Julius bought from me (he bought it about 3 months ago, and I'm finally sending it now.. I know. I'm horrible).. and it was hot as heck outside (the last thing i wanted to do was go home and cook!). Then we were driving through the South End and N. started going on and on about this Ethiopian place (Addis Red Sea) she had gotten takeout from once and how great it was and blah blah blah. Well before I knew it, we were parked in front of the place perusing a menu and poof we magically had Ethiopian food for dinner. The fish got banished back to the fridge. I should also probably mention that we made another detour on the way home.. we stopped at Flour and got Creme Brulee, chocolate banana bread pudding and lime cornbread cookies (amazing!).

I told you we have a problem.

N. really liked the Ethiopian food. I wasn't too crazy about it. We got this beef dish called Gored Gored. They serve everything on this huge folded up piece of bread/pancake(it's really like a really big crepe) but the consistency of it is too... rubbery, and absorbed too much of the oily sauce from the beef. The sauce on the beef was really good though, spicy..but good. It came with this potato and cabbage thing and also a  yellow/greenish mush that N. thought was lentils. I didn't try it since I'm slightly allergic to lentils. It also looked grainy like it might have had some chopped up nuts in it or something (I'm deathly allergic to nuts.. which makes my food obsession a bit dangerous!). The place is pretty cool and I would try the food again just to have the experience of eating there. It's on  a lower level so you have to climb down a flight of stairs and walk through a little hallway. It's dim and cavernous. The food is served on these tables that look like round trays and the people that work there are very friendly.

We've been pretty good today... Whole wheat toast with light chive cream cheese for breakfast, and curry tuna sandwiches for lunch (we won't count the Honey Moon I drank with my lunch).  I swear it's fish and veggies for dinner tonight. I'm going to make it early that way we won't be tempted to get takeout. We have to go grocery shopping and that means driving through Somerville. Temptation everywhere. We do our groceries at Market Basket. If you live in Boston and haven't done your groceries here, then get on it! Very diverse options and amazingly low prices. It can get a bit crowded though, so wear steel toed boots and be prepared to elbow people out of your way. We're on  a budget, so just basics today.

On a bright note, our garden is coming along nicely. Soon we won't have to buy veggies anymore!

 We've already harvested Romaine lettuce twice and we've used all of our herbs (except the mint, because this rascally little squirrel keeps coming along and digging it out!). I planted way too much kale so we've eaten some of that, but kale lasts all the way till winter so we have plenty of time. Everything else just started blooming this week. So excited!

This is our little jalapeño plant. Look at all the little baby peppers in there. They're tiny but they're there. Look closer!

 baby tomatoes!

I only planted in this raised garden bed that was already here when we bought the house. The previous owner gave us this song and dance about not being able to grow much because there isn't enough direct sunlight or whatever and she did her gardening at the community garden up the street. Well, I guess she just didn't have a super giant green thumb like I do! I wanted to make sure things would grow before I started tearing up our lawn and turning it into my secret garden (which I will do, you'll see). So next year, our garden will be much bigger. We might even be able to start selling at farmer's markets! 

I want to build a small chicken coop in our backyard and get a goat. N. won't let me though. She threatened to leave me if i get any farm animals. She also said I'm not allowed to get any more pets until one of our current pets kicks the bucket. Apparently two dogs and two cats is about all she can tolerate. She told me this when I tried to convince her that we should totally have ferrets. That didn't go over very well, but I gave up on that mission. The goat, however, is not so easy to give up. I have a thing for goats (no not in a bestiality kind of way you pervs... I just think they are so darn cute). I make N. frequent petting zoo's a lot more often than is normal for to 30 year old (gasp! It hurts to say it.) women. But we'll leave my goat obsession for another post.

I think I can squeeze in a quick yoga session before I have to pick up N. from work. Lord knows I need some serenity before dealing with the mobs at Market Basket.

Namaste bitches! ;-)

-D.

Brinner and mutual footrubs...

So, remember yesterday when I was writing about how we're "expanding" and needed to get in shape and all that crap? Well, I'm sure many of you have no idea just how serious our food obsession is. This is why we cannot seem to stop eating.. our dinner yesterday:

N. and I had a little spat over IM yesterday and I decided that my peace offering would be to make Brinner (that's breakfast for dinner for those of you that obviously aren't cool enough to know that :-P). Little did I know that N. had a little peace offering of her own... a 6 pack of Honey Moon (a summer ale by Blue Moon which is the only beer I drink..except for Corona's when I have no other choice). Did I mention, that I made a vow to myself to limit my alcohol intake to weekends only?

Well, i did.

That sure as heck is out the window now that I have a 6 pack of my favorite beer in front of me. Sigh.

OK, back to Brinner. I told you before how I feel about pancakes... more importantly how I feel about BANANAS and CHOCOLATE CHIPS in pancakes. So I whipped out my Barefoot Contessa cookbook (absolutely adore Ina Garten, Martha Stewart wishes she could be that cool), and found a recipe for Banana Sour Cream Pancakes. I halved the recipe and added mini chocolate chips (with the diced bananas at the end). These pancakes are orgasmic. She uses a little lemon zest in the batter and they puff up to an almost sponge cake-like consistency.

My mouth is watering as I type this.

After I made the pancakes, I felt guilty because this is supposed to be my peace offering to N. So why am I making my favorite breakfast food for dinner? So now I had to make eggs Benedict, of course. I had no English muffins or crusty bread.. whole wheat sliced bread just wasn't going to cut it and the hamburger buns left over from last weeks BBQ was just too mushy. Then I remembered N.'s Texas Toast addiction. She'll slather anything on those babies. So, I grabbed two of those and threw them in the oven. I looked at the time and realized I wasn't going to have enough time to make hollandaise sauce from scratch and attempt to poach eggs (last time I tried that, I went through an entire carton of eggs and just ended up with boiled egg white soup). I took the easy way out. I fried the eggs (I used I Can't Believe It's Not Butter though so cut me some slack!), and I had a packet of instant hollandaise sauce in the pantry (just add water and boil!). I added some fresh herbs from our garden to it (thyme, basil and rosemary) and..

Tada! Banana Sour Cream Chocolate Chip pancakes & Eggs Benedict over Texas Toast with Herb Hollandaise sauce. 

For dinner. 

And beer.

I swear we're going to have to start rolling each other around if we don't cut this crap out. To add insult to injury, after inhaling our heart attack on a plate, all we did for the rest of the night was sit on the couch and watch episodes of Lost (yea, we missed the whole Lost craze and decided to watch it on Netflix instant streaming. We are now Lost addicts. Currently on Season 4) and rub each other's feet. Yes, we lie on opposite ends of the couch and rub each other's feet while we watch TV every night. Don't laugh. We both love to be massaged and we were always trying to find ways to get the other one to owe us massages. 

I made you dessert! You owe me a foot massage! I did your laundry! You owe me a back massage!

Then it became about keeping score. 

Oh well I massaged your feet twice last week. It's my turn!

So this became our solution. Mutual foot rubs. Everyone is even. No one owes anyone. And the best part is that it lasts forever, because if you stop massaging then your pleasure ends too. Hey, don't knock it till you try it. 

I'm making fish and veggies for dinner tonight. And two glasses of water.

-D.

At least the dog is OK..

So, my first yoga session went... OK I guess. Except for the foot cramp I got while in a camel pose. I fell out of it, rolled onto my side and kicked my dog in the face. She's fine.. learned her lesson though and took her bone and laid down on the other side of the room. I'm not as rusty as I thought I was balance wise, although I'm definitely not as flexible as I used to be (when did I stop being able to touch my toes?). I FEEL better. I have to get N. to try it. She's not the transcendental type though. She's more of the "sit-on-the-couch-with-a-beer-watching-UFC fighting" type. And I'll admit that lately I've been the "sit-on-the-couch-watching-the-Food Network-then cooking-what-I-see-and-eat-it" type myself. But we've both realized that love (and our food obsession) has made us... unhealthy. N. can barely walk uphill one block without having a coronary and me..I just said I can't touch my toes. Oh, and none of my clothes seem to fit anymore (without making me look like a double cheeseburger with a side of fries). It is safe to say that we both have ..expanded.. in the past 3 and a half years. We both have admitted that this is simply unacceptable and have vowed to do something about it. We've vowed for about 3 months now (even pretended to be on a diet for a few weeks, that is until we drove by Mama's Empanadas on a trip to NY... if you haven't tried them, then get your little butts there ASAP --> little pockets filled with heaven ) but have yet to really do anything about it.

I tried to convince N. that we should become vegetarians. That didn't go over very well, considering she could totally live off of bacon if necessary. I'm typically the cook in this household so I've been trying to keep it healthy and we definitely EAT better, but we still don't move very much. I don't think I can make N. go for a jog just yet, but I'm hoping at least yoga will make us move off the couch. Baby steps.

So, after my yoga session, I was feeling all at peace and at one with mind's eye and all that crap. I went outside to light my little Buddha incense thing and take a deep breath, wiggle my toes in the grass. On the way back inside, feeling all serene, I decided to check my mailbox. It was empty. Now, when I moved to Boston, I did a change of address and checked that little option where you can order magazine subscriptions to your new address. I ordered Food Network magazine, Good Housekeeping and Better Homes and Gardens (shut up, don't even say anything yet because it gets better). I moved in the last week of February. It is now June 23rd and I have yet to receive ONE damn issue of Better Homes in Gardens. This may not seem like a big deal, but with all the stress and craziness going on in my life, I look forward to those magazines in the mail. Especially since N. has forbidden me to purchase ANY magazines at the supermarket checkout (I have a little bit of a problem). I get absolutely ecstatic when I open that mailbox and see a new shiny magazine waiting for me. For that moment, I'm unstressed. I open up the pages and I imagine all the delicious meals I'm going to conjure up from the recipes and how organized my linen closet will be... yea I have a 50's housewife trapped inside of me. So what? The point is, that I NEED my magazines. So I leave my serenity on the porch and march instead to call these incompetent magazine thieves. I trip over the dog, stub my toe and knock over a glass of water on the way. So, now I'm cursing and stomping up the stairs. I get this bubbly, way too excited to be working at a call center, Paula Deen impersonator on the line. I demand to know where my magazine is and why they're stealing my money. She doesn't change her tone. Calls me "sweetie" and "hun." She tells me that it sometimes takes 6-8 weeks to process orders and according to my file, I should be receiving my first issue in mid-July. July! For cryin' out loud. So I ask her why it takes more than 3 months to put my magazine in the mail but only takes 3 days to cash my check. She calls me "sweetie" again and apologizes. She says she'll extend my subscription by 3 months. She asks if she can do anything else for me.

No.

I slam the phone down and stomp back downstairs where I proceed to slip on the water I spilled earlier and fall right on my ass. I lie on my back and scream obscenities.


So much for that peace and serenity thing.

-D.

Namaste...

So, my mom was in town this weekend. She claimed she was already planning on visiting, but I'm pretty sure her trip was prompted by my mid-week "I don't have a job yet-I'm broke- I just turned 30 and what the hell am I doing with my life right now" hysterics. Regardless of her reasons, she showed up on Friday afternoon and greeted me at the bus station with her usual complaints of a long bus ride and a giant bag full of food she "brings home" o_O... from her catering job. From her magic bag she produced a pepperoni Stromboli, 3 giant red bell peppers, ham and about 4 different cheeses. Needless to say, one bite of that Stromboli and I forgot what the heck I was so upset about.

On Saturday, N. and I decided to take my mom to a little beach town about an hour away called Rockport. It's a quaint little town filled with cute little shops and delicious seafood.. and of course beaches. We wanted to take her to P-Town for the day, but although my mom has come a very long way in accepting her only daughter is gay, I thought an entire town filled with butches, flamey gay boys and drag queens would be a bit much. So, Rockport it was. We had lunch in a tiny restaurant that looked like it was someone's house and sat by a giant window overlooking the harbor. I had chocolate chip pancakes (because if there's breakfast on a menu, I have an inexplicable compulsion to order it no matter where I am or what time of the day it is), N. had the crab cakes Benedict and my mom had a chicken quesadilla. After lunch, we strolled the main street, walking in and out of shops. My mom and N. were conversing about something.. I think I was part of the conversation, but stopped listening because I was being pulled across the street by the sweet intoxicating smell of Nag-Champa incense burning. I've been to Rockport one time before with N., and the only store I remember besides the amazing hot dog joint and the home made ice cream shop, was this one. The Floating Lotus.

This place.. you walk in and just instantly relax. They sell Tibetan, Indian and Southeast Asian clothing, furniture art and artifacts. Now I hail from NYC where there about 4 or 5 of these types of stores in any given 20 block radius, but The Floating Lotus is... different. I don't know if it's the atmosphere of this lazy vacation town.. or the smell of the salty sea air, combined with they way they've set up the place. But, both times I've walked in the door, I've exhaled in complete relaxation and serenity. There's even this cute little dog that follows you around the store (but not in a naggy "pet me" way.. even the damn dog is serene). They have all these cool instruments you can play with, like rain sticks and singing bowls. There are amazing sculptures and wood carvings... colorful paintings of Buddha that an artist did on roof shingles that blew off a temple. Intricate floor pillows scatter the store and they invite you.. no INSIST.. that you lie down on them for a while and just ..BE.

I want to live in this store.

After about 20 minutes, N. and my mom finally managed to drag me out with my head scarf and handfuls of incense, but not before my Gemini brain latched on and got "inspired". I do this very often in my life. I get these "obsessions" where I eat, breathe and sleep whatever it is I happened to be obsessed with at the moment. So here I am, redecorating our house (in my mind of course... no job remember), digging my yoga mat out of the basement and vowing to start meditating and somehow transport that serene magical feeling of that store into my everyday life. I figure that this may be one of my healthier obsessions (unlike last month's bacon/ice cream obsession), I mean what harm can it do? I don't think our neighbors mind the little Buddha that is now sitting on our porch filling the entire block with the sticky scent of patchouli. I'm sure that N. won't mind if I take it down a notch from my usual wired, overly-dramatic antics. I'm sure that only good can come from regaining some focus in my life. It has to be better than this "falling down the rabbit hole" feeling. At this point I'm willing to try anything to keep me from going into a full blown panic over having $27 in my bank account at the moment. So.. here's to lotus flowers and downward dog poses, to nag-champa and deep breathing exercises... to meditation (aka denial of my current circumstances) and smiling serenely when all I really want to do is scream. Namaste.



-D.

breathe in. breathe out. breathe in...

I'm having a mini anxiety attack today. Okay, so maybe it's a little bigger than mini (breathes into paper bag). I have been here in Boston 3 months now, and have yet to find a job. I wasn't really panicking up until now because I had some money stashed in my savings account and a measly (but still helpful) unemployment check coming in weekly. Over the last month or two, however, my car decided to catch fire (which cost me $500 alone in repairs) plus all the other crap that was wrong with it (another $400), plus helping N. with the mortgage, furniture, groceries, pet supplies, and our shameful food addiction.... leaves me with a nearly depleted savings account. Yesterday, I checked my account and, to my horror, noticed there was no unemployment check. Called this morning and was told that my benefits have ended. Wonderful.


I have a promising job interview at an awesome preschool coming up, but it's not until June 30th and if I'm lucky enough to score the job, it doesn't begin until late August. N.'s sister recommended me for a position at a daycare center. But I'm still waiting for an interview to be set up. I was still trying to remain calm and collected, but then made the mistake of calling my mom. I don't know if anyone has ever experienced this phenomenon before.. you're upset about something, but somehow manage to hold it all together- until someone asks you the dreaded words, "What's wrong?" And then you lose it. All I said was "Hi Mami." She said "Que te pasa?," and I lost my damn mind. Bawling over the phone like a child (hiccuping and everything). She managed to soothe me somewhat (enough to stop the hiccups anyway), and now I'm sitting here scouring Craigslist for anything I can do in the meantime, short of standing on a corner in a chicken suit.

N. says not to worry and that everything is going to be okay. I'm trying to believe her, but panicking nonetheless. She's carrying almost all the weight, financially, right now and I know she's stressed too. I don't want to be that dependent partner. Sigh... I just may have to put on that chicken suit.

On a brighter note, I made some delicious mocha chocolate chip ice cream last night (with the awesome ice cream machine N. bought me). Think I need a scoop right now. Don't look at me like that. I'm too stressed to worry about calories today. And I quit smoking.. one vice at a time, dammit.





-D.

And Saturn Returns...

It's about 1:30 in the morning, and I'm sitting here.. awake, contemplating my current life crisis. OK, so it's not REALLY a crisis per say, just a new.. era, which I don't think I'm ready for (not that I have a choice). I'm talking about my damn 30th birthday. On May 24th, I turned (gasp!) 30. So, I figured what better time to start this blog I've been meaning to begin... I mean I'm not getting any younger here!

So, nothing drastic happened on the dawn of my 30th birthday. Any person looking at me with the naked eye would probably say I haven't changed very much at all. Well, that's downright bullshit, 'cause Saturn has seriously turned my world upside down.


I guess I've always been a believer in all that occult stuff...crazy explanations for everything going on in my life. Look, don't start judging me. If you grew up the way I did, in a world surrounded by a weird combo of Catholicism, Santeria and Voodoo.. you wouldn't know what to believe either! There was an explanation for everything, even my sheer clumsiness. If I dropped a glass on the floor, a book, a plate of food? My mother would gasp, cross her arms, nod at me disapprovingly and inform me of what was in store for me. Everything was a damn omen. Itchy palm? Money was coming. But only if it was the right one. If it was the left, well too bad for you, because you were about to go broke. This one could have just been a Dominican thing though, since I think every first-generation-American-born Dominican child heard this one growing up and gave their mom the same bewildered look I gave mine. My family took it to another level though. If I tripped over my mammoth, size 10 feet and fell flat on my face, there was no doubt about it. Someone had placed an evil spell on me which had to be undone ASAP.. of course. So that is where I place all the blame for my teenage fascination/borderline obsession with astrology, witchcraft, divination etc. But I have now gone off on a tangent and can't even remember my original point (see? that's an effect of my rapid aging. ok, I'm lying. Been having that issue my entire life).

My original point... is that I believe this "Return of Saturn" phenomenon. Yes, I believe that a planet is to blame for all the craziness in my life at the moment. If you're not familiar with this "theory," google it. The bottom line is that the planet Saturn takes approximately 29.5 years to return to the place in the sky it was on the day you were born, give or take. Upon it making it's grand return, it's supposed to have this powerful effect on your life. All these changes are said to present themselves and you are forced to look at your life and make life changing decisions.Relationships are tested. Some people supposedly change careers, get married/divorced etc. And some unfortunate folk feel so lost and full of confusion and despair that they just lose their damn minds. Am I one of these people? Maybe.


In the past few years approaching this dreaded birthday, I've come to many realizations and have made some pretty big changes. About 2 years ago, I finally figured out what I wanted to do with my life career-wise and went back to school to become a school teacher. I'm a gemini, so I've wanted to be everything from a veterinarian to an FBI agent. Every year brought a new obsession, which would explain the loads of evidence of such unfinished endeavors. Ballet shoes, gymnastics leotards, a piano, an entire collection of Native American books and anthropology magazines, videos on training dolphins... the list goes on. My last stint in college left me as a Fine Arts major (hey at least art has always been a constant in my life) and more credits being lost due to me dropping out once again. So it was definitely a big deal to make a decision like "I'm Going to be a teacher!" and stick with it long enough to finish the degree (so what if it's just an Associates!).

Along with the career thing, I also took a big step in the relationship department. After 3 years in a semi-long distance relationship (New York/Boston), I decided to pack up my life and move here.. to Boston, to be with the woman I love. This came about right after our relationship was significantly "tested" (see? Saturn I tell you) and well.. here we are. Two girls in love.. both navigating our Saturn's Return. As if turning 30 isn't stressful enough on its own, we decided to throw in buying a new house and cohabitation. This should be interesting. Did I mention we're both geminis? Yea, I doubt I'll be lacking material for this blog. We both are obsessed with food. Cooking it, eating it and.. um ..playing with it. So you will be a witness to our many attempts at fine cuisine (or just plain ole weird food experiments), making our house a home on a very limited budget, our life with 2 crazy dogs and 2 cats, the roller coaster ride we are both on as we try to make a life together, and of course my incessant whining about living in Boston and leaving my beloved New York City behind.

So welcome to our little world. Enjoy your visit. Be advised though... we're all mad here :-)

 

- D.