{Emily and I may or may not be on the alumni association at our old school, and may or may not have taken this for the development director. . .}

I write about high school more than is normal for a 25-year-old.

Here is the thing, though: if you had the kinds of friends from high school that I do, you'd write about it, too.

While some of the usual suspects were missing (and greatly missed) at the 'Stravaganza this year, we still ate plenty of chili and drank plenty of wine, told the same stories yet again, and laughed. A lot.

I think my favorite part may have been at the very end, when there were just five of us, sitting around, eating pavlova and drinking beer. Emily and I may have changed into pj's. Anyway, I just sat there and was struck once again by how lucky I am. I met these people more than ten years ago, and they still come to parties I throw where the only game plan is drinking wine and eating lots of food.

And we still have fun, every single year.

{To the left. . . and to the right. . . We're silly}

Happy Thanksgiving!

{For the second year in a row, Dewey and I got coffee at Diesel Cafe after the Somerville Turkey Trot. I think I can get behind this tradition.}

Yesterday, my friend Manoli asked me if I was happy. After careful thought, the answer was a resounding yes. That is due entirely to the fact that I have so many wonderful people in my life.
I have parents who have my back no matter what, and who encourage the baking of twelve pies at Thanksgiving.
I have a sister with whom to run Turkey Trots (at the same time, but NEVER together, of course) and then get coffee.
I have friends who are as excited for our Eighth Annual Day After Thanksgiving Extravaganza ('Stravaganza for short) as I am, and friends who willingly volunteer their homes for these events.
I went to a wonderful college, where I met people who gchat with me while they're in England, California, New York and Somerville and invite me to see live music and help me find really sweet jobs.
I have roommates who watch The Holiday with me even if they hate it, just because it's my favorite cold-weather movie.
And I have a blog, where I have met so many lovely people who so willingly share their lives with Strangers From The Internet.

This year at Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for all of the amazing people who have made me so wonderfully, resoundingly, happy this year. Thank you for being a part of my life.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends!


{"I will take your picture with your phone and you will put it on your blog," said Dewey. So I did.}

Poultry

To prep myself for Thanksgiving this year, I've been listening to This American Life's Poultry Slams from years past. The episodes, produced (almost) every year, focus entirely on stories about poultry- primarily chickens, but sometimes turkeys, too, and they are hilarious, and you should be listening to them, too. The one from 2003 is especially funny- I found myself closing the office door at work because I was laughing so hard during the first act.

Hopefully, tomorrow I'll be back with my grateful list, but in case I'm not, have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone!

Happy Monday!

Oh, what a weekend.

It did not start out particularly well. Saturday morning, I stayed in my pajamas until noon. (I think I am the only person in the world who cannot stand wearing pajamas for extended periods of time when not sleeping.) I was grumpy, and I had no idea what to do with myself.

It quickly turned around, though. A mocha may have been involved. As well as Salvadoran food and wine tasting with a friend who actually knows what she's talking about, which always makes it more fun. Plus, a really wonderful pinot noir at an affordable price? Yes please!

Saturday night was for Harry Potter. I hadn't seen any of the movies since the first one, and now I want to go back and watch them all- I loved it!

Sunday was all about a long run with a new running buddy and relaxing, as one should do on a Sunday. It ended with a glass of that pinot noir and episodes of Modern Family and Community with the roomie.

All in all, lovely times with lovely people. And a short week ahead, to boot!

Happy Monday, everyone!

p.s. I lost my camera two weeks ago, which is part of why I've been posting so little. I'm working on tracking it down, but my posts might be rather word-heavy in the next couple of weeks. Sorry!

p.p.s. I don't think you'd actually care about the pictures or lack thereof in my posts, but I thought I'd let you know anyway.

p.p.p.s. I just woke up, and I didn't get enough sleep last night. This can be made abundantly evident by the presence of three post scripts in my blog post. Sleep deprivation blogging: just don't do it!

{Image: Drew Kelly for the New York Times}

Given that my family makes at least twelve kinds of pie every year at Thanksgiving (we like to have at least one per person, babies included), and that my roommates and I hosted a pie-themed housewarming party, it should come as a surprise to no one that this article in the Times today made me actually squeal with happiness.

Hooray for pie!

Happy Happy, James!

This is James.

James and I have been friends since we were fourteen (that's ELEVEN YEARS), and about a month ago, he had a birthday.

I love James for lots of reasons. Some of them are:

1. James is pursuing his passion more doggedly than anyone else I know. About halfway through college, he decided that he wanted to become a journalist, and he has been steadily working on that dream since then.
2. James lives in Minnesota, so I usually only get to see him once or twice a year, but when we do get to hang out, it's like nothing has changed.
3. James makes the weirdest food taste delicious. Once, he made a dish for our whole gang with lentils, kale (stems included!) and pasta. I was skeptical (hello, starch overload!), but two years later, I still remember how wonderful it tasted.
4. James and I both took time off from college during what would have been our junior year. Our weekly Friday-night dinners are one of my most cherished memories from that time.
5. So, I don't really know much about the plains states, but I do know this: even though he grew up in Boston, James is about as Minnesota as they come. (Which is a good thing!)
6. Having a conversation with James is not unlike being in therapy. He and I sometimes sit in coffee shops for hours, mulling over all of life's little situations and each others' problems. We sometimes do the same thing over the phone, but not enough- part of me is tempted to move to Minneapolis so we can spend much more time dissecting life together.

Happy Happy, James!
I'm so glad you were born.

Dream Kitchen

I spend the vast majority of time I'm at home in the kitchen. When people come over, that's usually where we congregate.

{via poppytalk}

Right now my kitchen, like the rest of my apartment, is small, but someday that won't be the case. I will have a huge, country-style kitchen. It'll have a big island in the middle, and my guests will have a glass of wine and gossip while I chop and stir.

{Via Remodelista}

I can't wait.

Happy Happy, Emma!

This is Emma. (And, um, my boobs. don't mind those.)

Emma and I were in the sororitee together, and about two weeks ago, she had a birthday.

I love Emma for lots of reasons. Some of them are:

1. Emma is from New York, and she's about as East Coast as they come. Seriously- I've never seen anyone walk that fast or aggressively down a city street.

2. Emma knows how to have fun with little things. In college, Emma got a fondue pot, and had some delightful fondue parties. Which only occasionally resulted in delightful misunderstanding.

3. Emma is an amazing teacher. Professionally, she's a high school Latin teacher (seriously- this girl is SO East Coast), but I've had first-hand experience of this- last week, she had me drive half of the way to Dartmouth. I've never met someone so patient and calm with a driving newbie as Emma was with me.

4. This girl, this quintessential New Yorker, moved to Boston this year, and is able to appreciate that Boston's a pretty cool city, too. For a New Yorker, that's huge, and something this Boston girl is grateful for.

5. Emma is the most competent individual I know. She can build furniture, make pizza, and look great in pearls. Seriously. It's impressive.

6. Emma wakes up even earlier than I do. Which is very handy when I'm looking for an early-morning farmers' market or brunch buddy.

Happy Happy Emma!

I'm so glad you were born.

I'm back!

Oh, friends. What a difference a week makes. Thanks for your kind words. I feel so, so much calmer than I did a week ago, like I really have some perspective on things. I spent the week dealing with boring grown-up problems, but also: getting cocktails with friends who were about to depart for Uganda, getting ready for halloween, and best of all, giving candy to trick-or-treaters.

This is only the second Halloween I've had my own apartment. (Last year, you might recall if you've, I was living at home after moving back from San Francisco.) In San Francisco, our apartment was one a main thoroughfare, and it was in the back of the house, so no kids came by. This year, though, I knew we'd get at least a couple. Let me tell you, I've never felt so much like a grownup (in the best possible way) as I did when I went into CVS to buy those Butterfingers and Reese's. Holly and I sat on my front porch, drinking hot apple cider and giving out candy, and I think I decided that Halloween is my favorite holiday.

Besides Thanksgiving, because, hello, pie?