only at an arti(choke)sts' colony

Rachel: "Someone here--I don't remember who--has tried it. Said it's really bitter."

Me: " That? Made my day."

Rachel: "You're so easy."

the family i've made

A select few of the friends we've made here in the Land of Port (...ha!) are more family than friends. They won't easily be lost from my life, and this is a tribute to them.

One is a younger brother who is trying to make it as an artist. He's talented and awesome and everyone should book him for a gig.

Another may be even younger, but is too much like me for words. (Well, if I'd been a younger-sib boy rather than an only-sib girl.) He's got an amazing mind and astounding intellect, and it stuns me more than I can say.

And the last is the younger sister I never had but probably always wanted. Plus she has inherited all our leftover alcohol and our air-conditioner. Whee.


You're all expected in DC, kids. Don't forget it.

because i am an emotional wreck about moving: a poem

Remember that afternoon at
the old covered bridge
smack dab in the middle
of nowhere, New Hampshire?
The bronzed marker cried history
as we made over the world
inhabiting a fairy-tale castle
caught out of time, scaling
splintery turrets to hang
upside-down
backwards
dangling our toes into the
moat below, trading the lookout,
scanning the fish-borne ripples for
signs of Prince Charming’s
barque lured by our siren anthem
felled by our skipped stones.
Oak planks long ago exhaled
dying breath into the brittle
thinning gasping autumn
air, shocked and bled out life
warmth into winter’s killing
kiss. Seventeen
tints of gray, dotted
here and there the red paint that
once welcomed those who crossed
no longer.
Sun streaming through gaps
like beestings in the roof
over our shoulders hair scraped
elbows and browned knuckles,
we laughed, little girls,
stringing dandelions into
dungeon chains and playing princess
until the shadows doubled our height.
In them we shuddered to see a hint,
grown women,
but we shook off the dandelion yoke
and ran home,
all skinny knees and ankles.

regina registrar

Main Entry:

reg·is·trar

Pronunciation:

\ˈre-jə-ˌsträr\

Function:

noun

Etymology:

alteration of Middle English registrer, from registren to register, from Anglo-French registrer, from Medieval Latin registrare, from registrum

Date:

1675

: an official recorder or keeper of records: as a: an officer of an educational institution responsible for registering students, keeping academic records, and corresponding with applicants and evaluating their credentials b: an admitting officer at a hospital


Or, as I like to think of it: I get to stage manage the whole school. I'll also be teaching and, most likely, advising Model U.N. So, to sum up?

So. Awesome.

Huzzah!

that's what friends are for

Ideas for Rachel's bio in the Goucher anthology, as put forth by the gang at Downtown Lounge:

Rachel would like to know if you have a guest room. Tonight.

Rachel can be reached at "Itinerant Mini Cooper, Maine License Plates, U.S.A."

Rachel went to Yaddo. So there.

Rachel is from Colorado, Washington DC, North Dakota, South Carolina, Texas, Maine, and probably some other places...yeah, she's just that cool.

Rachel knows a lot about guns, and knows where you live.

Rachel has some very awesome friends who enjoy living vicariously through her, because she is the best!

i think i might artichoke

On Saturday night, I went out for the most fantabulous girls' night out ever with Cat and Alisa. We sat at the bar at Chez Henri and ate a bunch of delicious food (duck tamale, smoked baby octopus, empanadas....mmmm) and even more delicious cheeses. We drank various cocktails containing rum and cava (namely, the rhum cocktail marilene, the mojito, and the pomegranate 75, if you are interested).

Then we noticed a bottle on the shelf called Cynar.

As we were waiting for our check, Cat pointed out that she'd noticed it earlier but forgotten to mention it when Alisa and I showed up. It seemed as though the label was decorated with an artichoke, which all three of us found...odd.

Don't get me wrong -- we all actually love artichokes. Eating them, anyway. But a liquor made from artichokes? It seemed unusual enough that although we pretty confidently identified the design as an actual artichoke blossom, we figured we had to be mistaken, that the label must not reflect the contents in any way other than, perhaps, metaphorically. And despite our earlier imbibing, we weren't, well, "prepared" to taste it to find out. We just decided we must have been misled.

As it turns out? Not so much.

See, Alisa and I returned to Dick's apartment to find the menfolk playing Wii, so we decided to do a little internet research.

And wow were we--and, once we relayed the information, was Cat--glad we didn't decide to try it. Seriously: artichoke liquor? That would not have been the ideal end to an otherwise ideal evening.

Gah.

"be intamit with marge"

Things to do in Portland before we go:

1. Barbecue ribs on Laura's deck, thereby convincing Devin that our ribs are the best. Ever.

2. Disassemble Rachel's lamp and toast the accomplishment of said disassembly with bubbly on her deck, savoring her amazing view.

3. Think about if we missed out, having just a balcony instead of a true deck. (Hmmm...)

4. Pick at least one of our favorite restaurants and get there again. (555 perhaps?)

5. Buy a case of Citra Montepulciano magnums to take with us, since the price is rather ridiculous. (Note: Already done!)

6. Decide unilaterally to postpone a cheese-tasting for the District in an effort to force dear friends to come visit. Also because we already have the wine.

7. Go to the beach. (I have a feeling this one is gonna bite the bullet, since we clearly gave priority to number 5...Oh well.)

8. Find a way to pack up all my SAT materials without too much effort. Well, and by "all" I mean "all the ones that aren't tests or grids that I can shred, because, come on." I'm keeping the teacher's editions, even though there's every chance I {sniff} won't be using them again {sniff sniff}.
Yeah, I know I bitch and moan about SAT prep, but this last class was wicked awesome, as proven by the fact that they let me take their picture. I really enjoyed teaching them, and it's rather bittersweet to go out on a high note.

9. Try extra-hard not to think about the rest of it. Not to think about the friends we've made here who have almost become family (me to Laura: "I'm like the big sister you never wanted!"). Not to think about how we all say we'll visit even as we know life is going to pull us in directions we can't anticipate (key words: Yaddo; Milton; AUP) and that, while we'll still make it happen, it won't be with the frequency and ease that we'd like. And, most importantly, not to think about how damnedly horrible it's going to be to pack up all these books again. Yargh.

associated...puns?

Someone over at the A.P. is having a fun day.

Skywalkers in Korea Cross Han Solo

Couple Who Stole from Mob Got Whacked

Seriously. And the latter includes the line, "The couple liked to rob Mafia-run social clubs in Little Italy and elsewhere around the city, which, as just about everyone knows, is a really good way to get killed."

Heh. Nice.

carnivoracious

I did in fact find a burger the other night. Jim, Laura, Devin, and I went to the Great Lost Bear -- not known for its fries, but a consistent winner of "Best Burger" titles in Portland -- and we all ate burgers.

We even took pictures.

We did not, in fact, take pictures of me eating my burger. My burger was delicious, perfectly medium-rare with lettuce, tomato, onion, and some ketchup and mustard -- the ur-burger, if you will, of burger-y simplicity.

Mr. Anderson, however, was goaded {cough}Laura{cough} into attempting some gargantuan monstrosity topped with...actually, I can't even remember everything it was topped with, and that's probably a good thing, because a number of the toppings clearly had no place together, much less together atop a burger.



Anyway, he ate it. The whole thing. The camera-phone was pressed into action to record the feat for posterity.

Also to absolve ourselves, in case anything bad happened after.