Love Ya G-Ma

Celebrated my G-Ma with some pretty special people today. Was honored to have the chance to say some words about her at the reception. She was a pretty snazzy lady.

I know it's cliche to have monumental realizations only upon losing someone, but even so, that doesn't change the truth. The past few weeks as I've been thinking about my Grandma (a name I never called her, she was always G-Ma to me), I've felt a weird connection to her that only made me wish that I'd been cognizant of a lot more when I had the chance to tell her.

I went for a long run the other day and my pace was unbelievable...and that's because the whole way I was flooded with memories and little nuggets of my G-Ma that I wanted to get down on paper as fast as possible before they escaped the fuzzy walls of my mind. What I truly came to realize the more I thought about her, was how grateful I am that she rubbed off on me, even in the smallest of ways. We had a lot more in common than I realized.

• For instance, we shared a love of the classic TV show, Boy Meets World. Though, admittedly, I do think her love was more tailored toward Mr. Feeny than the show itself, but I can't fault her for that. He was a wise man. In one of my favorite scenes he says something that I feel like encapsulates the essence of my good ol' G-Ma: "Believe in yourselves. Dream. Try. Do good." To this, Topanga (a name my G-Ma hated BTW) replies, "Don't you mean "do well"? "No, I mean "do good." Even as an English major and a wordy, I think that my G-Ma placed far more emphasis on doing good than doing well...and she nailed it.

• Going off of that, I think that I have her and my subconscious to thank for my love of reading and writing. Two things that besides running, keep my sanity in check (Notice I didn't say keep me sane, mom...we all know that's a bit of a stretch). Some of my fondest memories of my G-Ma are doing crossword puzzles with her every morning while my parents gallivanted around the globe on business trips without me and my poor brother. Crossword puzzles were to be done in PEN, she would stress. If you're not sure of an answer, don't write it. If you're not sure of something in life, don't do it. Simple as that.

• She taught me to play Hearts on her old school Dell desktop computer. I remember every time the Queen of Spades would pop up and make that ominous noise, we would blame the computer. "This thing is an imposter!" (For those of you who didn't know her...her first name was Del)

• She was my feisty partner and crime, and also my feisty nemesis at times (all in good fun though). She had a stash of chocolate gold coins from the bank that she had swiped waiting for me every time I came over because she knew I loved them. On the other hand, on more occasions than one, she snuck sausage into her famous Thanksgiving stuffing (which is what my plate was typically 95% comprised of). I remember the first year she did it, I mentioned a hint of spice. "There's a funky spice to it, but it's still delectable as always." A few more bites in, we noticed the sausage. "G-Ma! You can't go changing things up on us like this." So the next year, no sausage she said. Next year came around...and thanks to a knack for detective work that came from the Sherlock Holmes books we would read together, I found the sausage. Sneaky, finely chopped sausage nestled in between the bread. I distinctly remember the smirk on her face as she slyly said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I can't see any sausage." A clever choice of words...she couldn't see it, but she could taste it, because it was there. But I digress.

• She made up for sneaking things I didn't like into my favorite Thanksgiving dish by always saving me a stash of her famous sweet pickles. Those of you who knew her well were probably lucky enough to get your hands on some of these coveted pickles. But don't go raising your hands or anything...I like to think I was part of an exclusive group.

• As my parents well know, one of my lifetime dreams remains to own a golf cart. Every Christmas list when I was a kid started off with the same two things: "Golf Cart and lifetime supply of French Fries." I am not making this up...my parents can vouch for it. Now, looking at those two things...the two things I wanted most in life as a spry under 10 year old...I think we can all agree that one was more feasible than the other...a golf cart would be much easier to obtain. My G-Ma knew this, and this led to some of my favorite moments with her. Speeding along the back 9 in a golf cart, my foot the only foot on the gas peddle (which inevitably meant it was pushed in all the way) and both of our fingers linked together on the steering wheel. Well played, G-Ma.

• Lastly, what I admired most about my G-Ma and strive to live up to, is her abundance of wonderful friends. Friendships she cultivated and maintained for a lifetime. I often say that I feel you can tell most about a person based on who they surround themselves with...and I don't think her circle of friends could get any better...which speaks so strongly to the woman she was. Let's face it, she was a rock star.

And finally, what I am most thankful for from my G-Ma...my Pops. I could ramble forever about him and how unbelievably lucky we all are to have him, but I think I can sum it up in one sentence: He is the best person that I know. And I can say that with complete and utter confidence because I've never meant anything more. And I have my G-Ma to thank for that.

Someone very dear to me said recently "Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOOHOO, what a ride" 

I have no doubt that my G-Ma entered those pearly white gates with some scars and a devilish smile, before announcing, "all right, I'm here...you ready?" And while there certainly was no Chardonnay, there was absolutely a Pinot Grigiot in one hand and a White Zin in the other. 

Love ya G-Ma.

The DC I Love & The SC I Miss

Thinking about the goods today. The goods that come with calling somewhere home. Obviously, two places in particular resonate with me, as they are really the only two places I have had the pleasure of calling home to this point in my nearly 23.5 years (well, years on this planet, and in this life, anyway). They are my current home, Washington, DC (and all that is captured in its ginormous radius) and my forever home, State College, PA.

This is a bit of a follow up to a previous post outlining my conflicted relationship with my current abode and all of its quirks. I'm feeling visual today, but this time, no gifs, no Google, no BS; all photos are authentic and my own. For better or worse.

So let's get to it, shall we?

DC:

I love that I see more people on my morning commute than most people see in a week. Yes, I am a bloody hypocrite for this one. I bitch and complain about the sheer volume of bodies, cars, egos, and the like...but for a people-watching connoisseur, it is a bit of a people-watching mecca (not to mention a people-meeting mecca, which I also quite enjoy).

I love cops on segways (bonus points if the cop is handing out a citation in the wee hours of the night while perched on said segway). I ACTUALLY WITNESSED THIS OVER THE WEEKEND. To say it was awesome would be an understatement and a pure injustice to America.

I love public transportation...especially because of the signs at the Metro. While it is stupid expensive, always undergoing "track work," and is made up of stations that smell like fish markets (someone is going to have to explain that to me sometime...though I'm not sure I really want to know why that is the case), the DC Metro is pretty solid. It's relatively clean, relatively reliable, and saves my soul from being further tarnished by the demonic traffic that permeates every nook and cranny of this friggin' area.

I love the dive bars that squeeze slyly between da clubs and hoity toity joints and boast unapologetic signs like these.

I love the clichéd feeling of awe that comes with gazing down Pennsylvania Avenue at night. Despite how annoying government employees, government contractors, and the government in general may be, AMURICAN pride is rampant...and pretty awesome.

I love that this is not an unusual thing to observe...at the grocery store no less. So many people and personalities...for all we know, this could be Justin Bieber. I mean minus the heels, it looks just like him from behind...and I didn't get a look of this person from the front so there truly is no way of knowing.

I love the moments when I happen upon a bar with "cheap" prices. And yes, this is about as cheap as it gets around here. Cans of PBR have become a staple...fight or flight, I tell ya.

I love the abundance of Mini Coopers that surrounds me. There is a street not far from my apartment that I fondly call "Mini Cooper Row," as 4 houses in a row have their respective Mini Coops parked tantalizingly out front. I have to consciously not run into trees or trip when I run by due to the sheer senses of awe and admiration that overwhelm my entire being.

I love my Roxy. Nothing like being reunited after four long years bogged down in a separation-anxiety laden long-distance relationship. Keep an eye out for our upcoming reality show: "Survivor: Real Gingers of DC."

State College:

I miss running up Orchard Road, cutting through the open farm fields, and gallivanting around with the horsies.

I miss sunset hikes up Mt. Nittany and Shingletown with good friends and Camelbaks of wine and brewskies. Fewer things are more refreshing than a nice muscle burn, a tasty beverage, good conversation, and cool air swiftly sneaking in as the sun retreats on a hot summer day.

I miss running with friends (and chasing them finish line). Obviously I can run with friends anywhere, but the runners and r*nners of dear old State are tough to beat (in every sense of the word).

I miss family photo bombing on a regular basis.

I miss these two party animals.

Moral of the story, friends:  Home is not places...it is love.