A very merry Christmas post

Happy Christmas, Internet!

I hope you all have a wonderful day with the people you love, giving and receiving fantastic presents, drinking lots of champagne, laughing your head off, and eating your weight in cookies, chocolate and ham. Which is exactly how I plan on spending tomorrow. (well, minus the champagne. But, please do drink a glass or two of bubbly for me. I mean, what are friends for?)

If you can be bothered to wait for the video below to download, you'll be treated to the Rossini family dancing as Elves in a comical rendition of Jingle Bells. Seriously, you'll laugh so hard you'll cry.

I was extremely lucky to have lived in the same two-story house my entire childhood. Not only was nearly my entire extended family within a ten mile radius, but I developed lifelong friendships. With back-to-school sales, and little kids with oversize backpacks clutching their parents hands everywhere I look, I have been thinking of my longest running friend. I met Kristine when I was five, which means I’ve known her for twenty-four years and counting, and she is the person I have put in charge to rescue (and burn) my hidden teenage diaries should I ever die unexpectedly. (They’re buried in a box at the very top of my closet at my parent’s house. Don’t read them. Also, love the crimped bang look. Very 80’s. Says the girl in the outrageously hideous shorts. Seriously, what was my-seven year old self thinking?)

Kristine and I met in kindergarten; well actually, our mom’s met when we were in kindergarten. They had some sort of babysitting swap for the younger siblings. Kristine’s mom made cookies for my brother to eat, and my mom taught Diane how to clean toilets properly. I guess she was teaching Diane the kind of skills every mother hopes for their three-year-old daughter. Now, Kristine and I weren’t exactly friends in kindergarten. I believe we tolerated each other. But, somewhere in the past two and a half decades we developed a deeper friendship than many can only hope for.

Our families became close friends, partly because of the friendships of our parents, partly because Kristine and I often found each other in the same circles. I have very few childhood memories that don’t include this family in some way. Brownies. Soccer. Coronado. Houseboat. Cross-County. NCL. Somewhere down the line, Kristine and I became friends, best friends even. I can’t remember the exact moment, but it happened. Somewhere between the silly stunts we pulled, the millions of games of Uno, the times we accidentally (and purposely) hurt each other’s feelings, sleepovers, long runs and double dates we became friends.

This picture was taken in August 1998, the night before I left for college in Sacramento - the two families having dinner together. (I almost didn’t post this picture because my mom and I seem to be wearing matching outfits. Again, what was my 18-year-old-self thinking?) Our dad’s asked the same question, which everyone else asked: Did we really think that we could continue our friendship through college? There was no doubt in our minds. We had a system, you see, a phone call every Sunday night. Little did we know that 10 years later, Kristine would be living 14 miles from my first college apartment, and I would be living 14 miles from her college apartment. Ironic, no? But, that’s been our relationship, long-distance at its finest. In all 13 years of primary and secondary schooling, we only had one other class together in high school. Our colleges were 500 miles apart, graduate schools across countries, study abroad programs. And yet, we have still maintained a friendship. We have our ups and downs, just like any relationship lasting as long as ours.

I had always hoped that one day we’d grow up, get married, have families and live in the city. I understand, now, this will probably never be a reality. But, no matter what happens, I know that we’ll always be friends. Now that we’re married, and life is going at a lightening-fast speed, I realize that we can’t just run out for frozen yogurt (our idea of a crazy time in high school), go cruising for boys and have sugar-fueled sleepovers. I’ve started thinking about how in six years, my baby will be as old as I was when I met my best friend. I wonder if it’ll tell Auntie Kristine about their secret first crush, or dread when Auntie makes them sugar-free chocolate chip cookies without the actual chocolate chips. I wonder if Kristine and I will stay so close, and continue our weekly (or bi-monthly, these days) chats, when we have a whole new person to look after and keep alive.

These days, when my Dad send pictures of the four of us, or when I come face-to-face with an old memory, I feel like it’s almost part of a past life. A life that once existed, but was a fleeting moment. Which is sort of true. My hope is that one day, this new little generation will have a friend like I: one it can count on in good hair days and bad, ex-boyfriend heartbreaks and wedding-day jitters, Golden Spoon frozen yogurt runs and heart-to-heart talks and understand just how lucky they are.

A Father's Day Post

Sunday is Father’s Day, and since I haven’t talked much about my goofy Dad I thought a little recognition couldn’t go amiss. Plus he’s been pestering me to write a post about The Greatest Man I Ever Knew (yes, so humble you can almost taste it). So I hereby present you with a list of my favorite memories featuring my dad, and if you would like to add your own favorite memory about your dad in the comments we can all celebrate Dad’s together. And I would have some comments which this blog is sorely lacking. Wouldn’t that be fun?

My Favorite Memories Featuring My Dad:

• It was June 1999, and we had spent the day at Schloss Neuschwanstein in Bavaria. Family vacation and all that jazz. For dinner that evening we went back to the village of Hohenschwangau, we ate outside, and marveled at how empty the village was compared to the morning when it was packed with Japanese tourist. After a fabulous German meal (featuring schnitzel I’m sure) my dad and I decided to walk back up the steep, windy road that takes you to the backside of the castle for a photo op. It would be beautiful, softly lit by the setting sun. I don’t necessarily remember what we talked about on the long walk there and back. But, I do remember how peaceful the walk was, how stunning the castle was, and how much I knew that the moments spent together would replay in my mind countless times.


• When we were little he used to attack my brother and I with “bellybutton kisses.” It was equal parts hilarious and endearing, and a little embarrassing. You know, just in public and stuff.


• One summer when I was young (junior high I think?), he and my mom decided to forgo the traditional family vacation and decided to paint the entire house during his two-week “off” time. Every morning he would put in the same Fleetwood Mac CD and listen to it over and over and over. I will never think of Don’t Stop in the same way.


• Another family vacation took place on the east coast, Washington D.C. in particular, in the summer. And boy, IT. WAS. HOT. The kind of hot that makes your clothes stick to your body, and makes you want to run for the shower the minute you step out of the air-conditioned hotel room. It was so hot that my dad decided that it was too hot to eat lunch. Plus, we had too many museums to see, and monuments to visit. No lunch. He finally caved on the third day when my brother’s stomach growled so loudly that it interrupted the US Supreme Court oral arguments.

I have a million and one more memories I could write up, like the day that my parents flew into Dublin, and I met them at the airport. I was never so happy to see my dad, and thrilled to show him the country that I had fallen in love with. But for today I’ll leave you these (plus, I need to save something for next year!) Dad, I hope you have a fabulous Father’s Day…and remember this post next time I accidently destroy your camera flashcard.

The Trojan Horse
For the last three years, J has been in graduate school. The first year or two was a little fun. Football games, a chance to make new friends, a trip to China, but the last year has been endless. I wish I could tell you I was exaggerating, but I'm really not. He's been very good at school, of course, and has garnered all sorts of accolades, but the last semester (in particular) he's hated almost every second of it. I suppose that's just senioritis for you. (Do you remember how much you hated your last semester of high school or college, you had to literally drag yourself to class and choke down your readings and responsibilities, feeling every tortuous minute).

You know how sometimes something seems so far away -- too far away, even, to starting thinking about – and then suddenly, BAM, it's here? J started counting down the days until graduation months ago (only 16 classes International Finance left he'd grumble out the door on Monday mornings). And, last week, I am happy to report is finally here. I've had a bottle of champagne sitting in the fridge for anticipation; he's had a full-blown countdown – complete with bar graphs, pie charts -- of how to pay down the looming student loan debt.

So, last Friday night (a week ago today...I know how terribly slow I am at reporting news), there was celebrating and bratwursts and us saying "I can't BELIEVE this is finally happening!" over and over. And picture taking, did I mention the picture taking? Now, we are a couple that just works and eats dinner together before 10pm (granted, not much earlier then 10). Balancing between both full-time work (with much stress, and many changes) and a part-time class load with massive amounts of reading there was little time for anything else.

I'm terribly relieved that school is finally over, and that he can really starting working on some of his side projects, which is what he really likes doing best. But, whatever happens – and trust me, it's not like we don't have plans – I'm just glad that J won't be in school anymore that made him grumpy and frustrated and miserable. I'm so happy he's done and so very fiercely proud of all that he accomplished.

Jim with his parents (Hi Mary Jo!, Hi Larry!) after the nearly three hour ceremony. Did I mention that graduation was nearly three hours? I must have forgotten in all my excitement.