School's In For Summer

Well, this Monday is kind of the pits. After a very nice weekend that entailed bbq, movies about the moon, a trip to the SALEM WITCH MUSEUM (highlight), and very pretty walks -- Monday has come into my life like a rotten salad. The kind of thing you pay too much money for and then try to pick out all the not-brown lettuce so that you at least have something to eat.

I have to put most of the blame for this on the fact that this month begins my very last MAT course at Simmons. I showed up on Thursday to the first class only to be informed that Tuesday was actually the first class. Yes, the website says differently, but there was a magical email list from which I was clearly omitted. Entirely my fault, or so declares the universe. I'll curtail this train of thought right here so we don't go down a dark and whining road. So, I was thrown into that situation pretty abruptly. It kind of felt like one of those nightmares when you're on stage and you don't know any of your lines. Everyone else in the class had received information about the obscure editions of particular books that they needed to order in advance, so I couldn't even just go to the bookstore and pick up what I needed. Nightmare.

It will be an interesting course, however dis-associated from anything I'm currently doing or pursuing in my daily life. And it only lasts a month. And then I'll officially have my Masters degree. But, it looms like a big fat raincloud over July.

Here's when I change my attitude and power through it. OK DONE! It's going to be great. I think I'm going to a spa once I'm done with mom and sister, that'll be a nice carrot.

So Monday, screw. You can't take this away from me:

No Goat

It wasn't always raining. I really do have specific memories of days, this Spring even, that were sunny and dry. I want to be outside today, but in the weather of some previous, sunny day. I actually would really like to go hiking.

If you're my mother and you're reading this, you're a very petite, intelligent public school teacher. Also, you're shaking your head and picturing me at six years old, terrified and furious on a rickety bridge attraction at Storyland. There was a lot of anxiety involved with that specific rickety bridge. I remember, very clearly, having the thought "This bridge is poorly constructed. I'm going to fall and die and I don't understand why my parents are encouraging me to walk across this bridge, which is clearly...rickety."

The fact that the "rickety" part was supposed to be the "fun" part escaped me completely. It just seemed like a trick to kill dumb kids. That day, in having a good laugh at my difficulty on said bridge, my dad remarked "she's no goat!"

And, oh man, did that stick. You know how you get labeled as being really good or really bad at something when you're a kid and it becomes woven into your identity? Well, for years and years I negative self-talked myself out of any situation that would require the physical dexterity to climb or balance on something. Those years of gymnastics classes were great, by the way.

In the beginning of this summer, however, I was asked to go for a hike and, feeling empowered and trusting that my companion was a specifically non-judgmental individual, I said yes. We went up to the Blue Hills and started walking. True, I thought I was going to die in the first 15 minutes, but then it leveled out a bit. It was actually a pretty challenging trail (we thought we took the easy one...we were wrong)but I handled it well. It was such a feeling of accomplishment to succeed at doing something that I'd kind of assumed I'd be terrible at. A really great day. Maybe the best day of the year for me so far.



I did freak out once, but it was because we saw a mouse. Then I promptly realized that a mouse belongs in the forest, and I kind of don't. So...you know, get over it.
I'm still no goat, but I'm also not a nerve-wracked six year old at Storyland, which is an upgrade.

So I'd like to go on a hike today. Or go to Storyland.

Of Saturday, Sunday, and Beer Can Trophys

I feel compelled to break the mold a little bit here and do a kind of standard weekend recap type of thing. Why? Because it was awesome.

During the day on Saturday I went to Improv Boston to see the premier of Michelle Barbera and Jacob Lipcon's pilot Our Living Blue Planet.


It was completely fantastic. Featuring lots and lots of the funniest people I know and months and months of really hard work, this show is not to be missed. It was a lovely afternoon. There was even lemonade. There were even babies! Really cute ones. Just, I mean, how else would you want to spend a Saturday?

From there, the Bastards packed up and we drove off to Providence, RI for the Providence Improv Festival. We got a nice 8pm slot in a little space called The Speakeasy and got to watch our New Hampshire compatriots Stranger Than Fiction do a very fun short form set before we went on. The audience was lovely, and we had a killer time. Just being jerks, doing scenes, it was the most fun.

This year at the improv festival, Mauro and the gang made it New England exclusive, and added in a competitive component. The top six groups (who could make it the next day) were announced that night and both Bastards and our cousin group (I think we've decided that's what we are to each other) Three Hole Punch were asked to return on Sunday. We were first up at 7pm and had lots of fun on stage for our 15 minute semi-final slot. Our "round" came to a close and we were asked, based on audience vote, to stay for the finals.

Three Hole Punch had a great set featuring some very savvy ski ball playing, and Improv Jones who were hosting the festival did some very exciting, fast scene work.

The final performances were a blast. Just such good energy, such a great theater, such an excited crowd. Ryan and Tucker played a surgically conjoined assistant stylist, that's pretty much what I'm taking away from the show and holding in my heart forever. So we "won" the festival! (?) I don't know if you can really "win" a festival, but it was a great time and an true pleasure to meet so many great folks, see a lot of outstanding improv, and eat Cuban sandwiches.

Thanks Providence, Mauro, Improv Jones, and my gorgeous Bastards.

Love 'em

The kids in the back are the BEST.

I found the PS22 channel on Youtube and I'm absolutely transfixed. These kids are magical.

Happy Paper

Sick of baking in that hot sun?

Well, while the physically manifested cloud of our collective discontent hovers overhead, allow me to poke some holes in the dismal by introducing you to Gus & Ruby.



My friend Samantha and her biz-partner Whitney have started their own business in New Hampshire making very pretty paper things. Gus and Ruby are the names of their respective puppies. I love the idea of two smart, creative women figuring out what makes them happy and just DOING it. And look at their stuff! Is it just me, or can nothing brighten your day like gorgeous paper? Maybe that's just me. But I love browsing through their site and reading about their adventures in indie paper-making. Inspiring!

And if you take a look through their links you'll find a bunch of other amazing independent businesses creating gorgeous things and making a living off of them. Pardon the cliche (or don't, and never forgive me for it. Snub me in public for it, if you must, I understand.)but it's kind of the American Dream, isn't it?

So, it begs the question. Who wants to move someplace rural and start a business with me? My skills include* good high fives, cutting bangs, growing out bangs, writing stupid crap, and compassion.

But honestly, if you need wedding invitations, birth announcements, business cards, or special parchment upon which to write me a love letter, check out Gus&Ruby.

Love, paper, and rain boots,
Erin

*I paused for no fewer than ten minutes trying to think of what I could conceivably have as a marketable skill. So much education, so little ability to knit.

Running Without Puking

Hey world,

Happy rainy Monday! If you're as excited as I am then you're probably asleep too.

It was a busy, strange weekend that entailed a graduation party with lots of relatives, lots of 22 year olds (my sister and her friends are awesome), a concert, rain, ugly MBTA rudeness, and a very nice Father's Day. Also, abject poverty. My own.

A mixed bag indeed! But one thing that's been a constant good is the fact that I'm back on the fitness wagon. Summer, albeit grey and damp, has been a kind of inspiration for me and so I have signed back up for Weight Watchers and just completed my first week. Also, I've re-committed to the gym - this time with an actual goal. A little googling for "learning how to jog" brought me this link

Looks simple enough! Although, I've never ever been able to run in my life, I'm going to give this an honest shot. I've already started and so far so good (knocking on wood). The last time I ran a mile was in middle school. I ran fast! And hard! I finished in about 8 minutes! And then threw up everywhere and didn't feel right for a few hours. So, taking it slow. Very very slow.



Hopefully in 10 weeks I'll be able to run a 5k. It's worth a shot! I'm exclamation mark heavy today. Overcompensating for general malaise, I think. Now I'm going to count the quarters in my pocket to see if I can afford Subway -- THANKS SALLIE MAE!!!!!!!!!!

See you on the T, smile please,
Erin

Jillian and ED: or Please God No

Most Monday nights will find me in front of the TV yelling things like "NO! STOPPIT! SHUT UP! IDIOT! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOUR FACE!"

I'm a Bachelorette fan.

I will direct you to Ms. Selena Coppock's blog for full background and a run down of the season thus far. She goes into all the gory details that I haven't the stomach to re-live.

One might wonder, why blog about this now, Erin? The answer is that last night on the show, a line was crossed that I've never seen crossed before. The Bachelorette dropped the ED bomb.

(ED, the guy.)
No not Ed, the attractive Tech. Consultant from Chicago who chose to leave the show because his job at home was in jeopardy. ED. Erectile Dysfunction.

Let me explain.

It's customary in the later episodes, as said Bachelorette is nearing the end of her ill-advised journey and narrowing her choices for future ex-husband, that there are "overnight dates". Yes, this is just exactly as gross as it sounds. She essentially spends the night with two or three different guys (in the course of a week)to explore the more intimate parts of the perspective future ex-husband relationship.

Personally, I can't wrap my head around this, but America seems to think it's A-OK.

So, at the end of last night's episode in the "Later this season, on The Bachelorette..." teaser, they set it up. To summarize...

"on their overnight date in the fantasy suite, what happens when a certain one of our bachelors encounters a certain problem"...WAH WAH WAAAAHHHH *clown nose honk noise*

Cut to Bachelorette Jillian in tears (again):
"I can't believe this happened. With the one person where everything seemed perfect!"

Has this level of intrusion and embarrassment ever occurred on television before? They're going to broadcast some poor dope's impotence on national TV. I am blown away. And America watches. And so do I.


So, clearly, we all have to tune in. I hate myself. I hate The Bachelorette. I love The Bachelorette.


Also, just realized it's Bloomsday. Which exists, essentially, on the opposite end of the cultural spectrum. Oh, life in the aughts! So kaleidoscopic and gorgeous!