Tag Archives: Random Musings

Hi!

Remember me? I know, I know – I promised I’d write two or three times a week and then I disappeared for two. In my defense, I had to go to Australia and eat Tim Tams and snorkel. This was not optional. This was something I had to do, out of moral obligation to … the cookie industry? (Okay, fine. I haven’t totally figured all of this out. Also? Seriously jet lagged. Still.)

The good news: I am getting lots of work done on other projects (mainly the book), and I’ve written four chapters in the time it would normally take me to write ZERO chapters, so that’s something.

But I have really let the blog fall to wayside, as many of you have let me know via email, tweet, and missives written on the wall of my home in frosting (props to those of you who realize that your message would get across far better using that instead of blood).


(Oh, Petra, dearest, I know. Trust me, I know. I think about it anytime I do anything that isn’t working on the book.)

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“Wait, what kind of car do you drive?”

She is my cousin’s little girl. Blond, California-born and raised, nearly as tall as I am, and presently obsessed with cars. We are walking through downtown Seattle together. I’ve been back from Cambodia for less than a week.

“A 2002 KIA Spectra,” I reply, “with power locks.”

This last bit I say with just a little bit too much gusto, and she laughs. Immediately, I confess to the lie.

“It doesn’t have power locks.”

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You know that part in The Princess Bride where Wesley has just become reanimated after being “mostly dead” all day, and Inigo is trying to fill him in on what happened?

“Let me explain … no. There is too much. Let me sum up.”

That’s kind of how I feel right now. There is so much to tell you guys about. I don’t even know where to begin. Chronologically, I should keep telling you about Italy, and the Amalfi coast, and then my subsequent trips to Minnesota and Boston, and then finally get to Cambodia and Vietnam, but if I do that, then you will have to wait weeks, if not months, to hear about this:

 

You guys. YOU GUYS. I met an elephant. I obviously can’t wait weeks or months to tell you about that. Hell, it was a struggle to not simply post that photo first, along with the text, “OMG ELEPHANT WAT WE ARE BESTIES” before collapsing in a puddle of my own drool.

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We didn’t end up going to any touristy grottoes while in Italy – not the Blue Grotto in Capri (it was too cloudy), or the Grotto Smeraldino in Amalfi (not yet open for the season). At lot of people have told me we missed out mightily, and I nod and try to look sad, but honestly, it’s hard for me to feel deprived. I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve seen a lot of things.

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At some point, all of the cities on the Amalfi coast started to blur, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I resort to describing all of them as “lovely” and “charming” and “like a tower of colorful stone blocks precariously piled one atop the other.”

Positano. But it could be anywhere on the coast.

 

But, see, they all were.

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It’s occurred to me that I’m not the best communicator. It’s not that I don’t communicate, mind you. I’m constantly telling people things. Sometimes it’s stuff that I probably shouldn’t tell them.

Ahem. (“I … I can’t believe you tweeted that.” – Rand)

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Sigh. Yes. Another kissy face photo. Why?

Because I’m leaving for Cambodia on Friday, and I won’t see him for nearly three weeks.

Because it’s one of my favorite pictures from our trip, and I forgot to include it in my photo round-up of Ravello.

Because my eyeliner looks really, really good (and let’s face it – it hardly ever does).

 

And because looking at it just makes me crazy happy.

The evening after you get back from Ravello, and your cab driver has just ripped you off to the tune of 20 euros, you will not feel much like spending more money on a lavish dinner. Besides, your lunch was lovely and late, and you aren’t particularly hungry.

On that evening, is it perfectly acceptable to pick up a sandwich in town that is roughly the size of a longshoreman’s forearm and take it back to your hotel room. It will have prosciutto and fresh mozzarella and tomatoes, and bread so crusty it will wreak havoc on the roof of your mouth, but you won’t care.

 

Because this will be your table.

 

And this will be your view.

 

And you will sit there and listen to the sea and smell the citrus from the groves below and realize that there is no better place to have dinner on that night, and maybe any other.