There are really few things I have loved longer than this man. Actually, outside of family members, I don't think I've loved anything this long. Athletics are a close second, but I'm not sure I loved sports at quite this young. It also may not be the healthiest thing in the world to contemplate decade-long loves months before my marriage, but there are times the Fates conspire. The love to which I am referring, however, has complimented nearly every life stage since I first heard them in 1993. At 11 years old, my country music-filled life was literally changed forever. Dave Matthews with his saxophones, violins, and the two things I would never forget, about which I dreamed under tables in four different, lovely cities became the soundtrack for what has been the rest of my life thus far.
His solo album is the winter I finally moved out of the dorms, got a puppy, and painted my wall red. "Two Step" reminds me of the love, patience, and wisdom of a friend when even I didn't know what was good for me. Everyday was the summer between freshman and sophomore year when I lived on Grand Island and worked with the UB wresting team, playing his tapes on a portable boom box because the Hot Rod Lincoln didn't have a working sound system. "Grace is Gone" reminds me of how ManFriend and I officially started - an empathetic summer rocked by injury and heartache (his, surprisingly). "Bartender" is the hills coming out of Malibu after the AV prom I orchestrated. "Crush" is what I dreamed and now realize is all that New York is for me.
Dave brought my favorite Uncle and I together. (Sure, I'm allowed to have a favorite uncle. The man has a '100 Things to do Before I Die' list that includes a vacation with my grandfather. THAT man - Grandpa - is by far one of the ten coolest men to walk the planet. The list, in case you were wondering, includes Jesus, Johnny Cash, and my grandpa. Oh, Albert Einstein, Pat Riley, Larry Bird, and my dad, Uncle, and William Faulkner are also on that list. See? Pretty impressive list.) Dave brought ManFriend and I together, consoled me through our breakups, and eventually even saw us back together again. "Stay or Leave" is the song that is my memorial to the puppy he saw me find and raise. "Sister" predictably, is the best, purest ways I feel about Pigeon.
And Tuesday, as New York slowly, reluctantly warmed just enough to get me outside for a run, Dave saw me through my first 7 miles of the spring season. I rode across the Williamsburg Bridge, waved my daily wave at the Chrysler Building, listening to "Dream Girl" and remembered the feel of the warm summer sun on my skin. As cheesy, white-bread, and disgustingly predictable as it is for someone my age to worship the band that everyone had scrawled across their Mead notebooks while they grunged up their flannels in homeroom, but I know a few things. I know when Brother and I can agree on nothing else, we can agree that "Live at Red Rock Canyon" is his best album. I know that the story about ManFriend's arrest at Dave's Saratoga concert is the first Sheffer/Corona family story I'll be able to bring out at future family reunions. I know the closest friends I have all have a Dave song I listen to when I miss them the most. I can honestly saw that I truly do look forward to the new, intuitive, and perfectly-worded ways that Dave will find to compliment the new stages of my life.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
These Are The Things...
...the actual physical, tangible stuff that mark the big events in life. People always debate back and forth in my circle, I feel, about who spends how much and on what. How do you decide what's worth the additional buck? Is it the name brand? The nutrition in the food? The additional TV on the plane? Possibly the hope that your dollars are helping teenagers exploited in California rather than children in China. Whatever one's priorities, people are usually very attached to their ideas on what differentiates the dollars they decide to spend and the ones they decide to put away.
Had you asked me this question at this time last week, I would have been clear. No shoes are worth $700, I can't really tell one airline from another, and my mother insists that organic veggies are a hoax. I would have been even clearer on the following point - things like penis straws and clip-in veils are never, ever worth their weight in plastic.
This time this week I know better, however. I repent. All of those silly ladies that poured into my casinos while I lived in Vegas, button-adorned, usually much too drunk, hitting on every man in every bar were constant subjects of my internal judge-ometer. I take it all back. I have been to the mountain.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you exhibits A, B, and C:
What I did learn as one of the most magical weekends of my life unfolded was that the silliness, the boas, the tiaras are an easy trade for what I reaped. (And for clarity, I did none of the more aggressive things. No penis straws were in public. I did no hitting on anyone, nor did any of my friends - just in case you were wondering.) I have always been excessively blessed with amazing friends, specifically women friends in my life. I was ready to have a lovely time with them - yet I had no idea how often I would be literally moved to tears I after spending a full weekend with some of my favorite people from so many different times in my life. Suddenly TFA friends were meeting rowers, who were meeting Brownsville warriors, all of whom were hanging out with SisterFriend - it was all I could do to keep my tiny, extra-super-lucky head on straight. So many times over the weekend I had to stop myself and say, "Yes. My friends are the most perfect people ever. Yes, they are all in this place together. Yes. I literally have all I could ever ask for."
So now as I return to the day-to-day and clean through the remnants of the weekend, I find that the veils, beads, and straws have to stay. I want to wear and use them all the time, not for the attention, but for the feeling of warmth and closeness that I felt and still feel about how truly wonderful, in that moment, it was to be me - surrounded by quite literally some of the best people ever to grace the planet.
And for that, I say:
True story - this Mountaintop Weekend has also flipped me on my wedding planning thoughts, but perhaps that's for another day...
Had you asked me this question at this time last week, I would have been clear. No shoes are worth $700, I can't really tell one airline from another, and my mother insists that organic veggies are a hoax. I would have been even clearer on the following point - things like penis straws and clip-in veils are never, ever worth their weight in plastic.
This time this week I know better, however. I repent. All of those silly ladies that poured into my casinos while I lived in Vegas, button-adorned, usually much too drunk, hitting on every man in every bar were constant subjects of my internal judge-ometer. I take it all back. I have been to the mountain.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you exhibits A, B, and C:
When my good LA friend produced the above items from her suitcase, I cringed. "We talked about this," was the look I shot SisterFriend. I always lumped women with their fallic headbands into a group I assumed was really just looking for additional male attention, despite the fact they were celebrating that at least one was about to say publicly that she had found all the attention she would ever need in one man. What woman would blow into a whistle shaped like a pair of boobs unless she wanted the world (i.e. the men in bars) to look at her? I would not stoop to that level.
What I did learn as one of the most magical weekends of my life unfolded was that the silliness, the boas, the tiaras are an easy trade for what I reaped. (And for clarity, I did none of the more aggressive things. No penis straws were in public. I did no hitting on anyone, nor did any of my friends - just in case you were wondering.) I have always been excessively blessed with amazing friends, specifically women friends in my life. I was ready to have a lovely time with them - yet I had no idea how often I would be literally moved to tears I after spending a full weekend with some of my favorite people from so many different times in my life. Suddenly TFA friends were meeting rowers, who were meeting Brownsville warriors, all of whom were hanging out with SisterFriend - it was all I could do to keep my tiny, extra-super-lucky head on straight. So many times over the weekend I had to stop myself and say, "Yes. My friends are the most perfect people ever. Yes, they are all in this place together. Yes. I literally have all I could ever ask for."
So now as I return to the day-to-day and clean through the remnants of the weekend, I find that the veils, beads, and straws have to stay. I want to wear and use them all the time, not for the attention, but for the feeling of warmth and closeness that I felt and still feel about how truly wonderful, in that moment, it was to be me - surrounded by quite literally some of the best people ever to grace the planet.
And for that, I say:
True story - this Mountaintop Weekend has also flipped me on my wedding planning thoughts, but perhaps that's for another day...
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Our First Fight
Some of the most epic couples also have the largest arguments. Elizabeth Taylor received letters from Richard Burton verbalizing that "... the precious potential of [her] in the next room is the only thing in the world worth living for." And yet they were tossed from countless hotels for their brawls. Now my relationship seems to be following suit. I am sad to say that after an initial 18 months of blind, complete adoration and obsession on a level I had only dreamed of, New York and I are in the throngs of our first fight.
But, as in all fights, I truly believe I'm right here. I'm the victim, my love under-appreciated and my value in the relationship under-valued. First, Exhibit A:
Leaving my Long Island City friend's home, I passed this. Sure, we got a snow day after Snowpocalypse #2, but this was a solid 4 days after the sky opened and dumped upwards of 19 inches on my great city. And how does New York respond? Does he comfort me, apologize for the sudden change in climate? Nope, he does things like this - buries cars to the point where they're unrecognizable. Someone's shirking their responsibility, here...
Exhibit B:
Not a week later, New York sensed my unhappiness and warmed - just enough to cover itself in a sheet of ice 1/4 inch thick. This photo was taken in Brownsville on my 6AM walk to school. How many times did I slip? 5. Did my coworkers fall? They did. And yet New York refused to respond, or truly make the changes I so desired. Like a small child, taunting their friend with their finger mere inches from their face with "I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you..." New York responded with a slight increase in temperature, just enough to literally ice me out.
Even this morning, with no Saturday school, no tutoring in sight, I spent a luxurious morning in my favorite coffee shop (88 Orchard) on the Lower East Side, armed with my Times, an omelet, and no need to budge for hours. And yet to what did I emerge? Rain, rain, and more rain, in another half-hearted attempt to give me what I'm asking for. I was quite literally out in the cold.
So this is me, waving the white flag. New York, I love you like none other, and will of course continue to endure any anger you would like to display, by any means you see fit. I believe that ours is the love of the ages. However, don't you agree that we were so much better when the winter looked more like this?
(photo from here.)
Dear New York, I love you. I'm sure it's my fault, and I'll fix it. Just please, please, stop!
But, as in all fights, I truly believe I'm right here. I'm the victim, my love under-appreciated and my value in the relationship under-valued. First, Exhibit A:
Leaving my Long Island City friend's home, I passed this. Sure, we got a snow day after Snowpocalypse #2, but this was a solid 4 days after the sky opened and dumped upwards of 19 inches on my great city. And how does New York respond? Does he comfort me, apologize for the sudden change in climate? Nope, he does things like this - buries cars to the point where they're unrecognizable. Someone's shirking their responsibility, here...
Exhibit B:
Not a week later, New York sensed my unhappiness and warmed - just enough to cover itself in a sheet of ice 1/4 inch thick. This photo was taken in Brownsville on my 6AM walk to school. How many times did I slip? 5. Did my coworkers fall? They did. And yet New York refused to respond, or truly make the changes I so desired. Like a small child, taunting their friend with their finger mere inches from their face with "I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you..." New York responded with a slight increase in temperature, just enough to literally ice me out.
Even this morning, with no Saturday school, no tutoring in sight, I spent a luxurious morning in my favorite coffee shop (88 Orchard) on the Lower East Side, armed with my Times, an omelet, and no need to budge for hours. And yet to what did I emerge? Rain, rain, and more rain, in another half-hearted attempt to give me what I'm asking for. I was quite literally out in the cold.
So this is me, waving the white flag. New York, I love you like none other, and will of course continue to endure any anger you would like to display, by any means you see fit. I believe that ours is the love of the ages. However, don't you agree that we were so much better when the winter looked more like this?
(photo from here.)
Dear New York, I love you. I'm sure it's my fault, and I'll fix it. Just please, please, stop!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Fidelity, Closet Space, and Other Conundrums
Three day weekends are obviously the only way to go - one day to rest from the week prior, one day for errands, and one day for fun. When I rule the education world, all weeks will be 4-day work weeks. Today, sadly, was certainly my Errands Day, with one specific task in mind: take on my closet.
New York's apartments mirror the same architectural mindset of the island as a whole - limited horizontal space means that one must build up, and my closet is no exception. Not being the 5'10" my childhood self was convinced I was fated to be, much of that vertical space is difficult to interact with daily. Which is why at 10AM, my room looked like this:
New York's apartments mirror the same architectural mindset of the island as a whole - limited horizontal space means that one must build up, and my closet is no exception. Not being the 5'10" my childhood self was convinced I was fated to be, much of that vertical space is difficult to interact with daily. Which is why at 10AM, my room looked like this:
My mother would be so embarrassed.
But wouldn't you know it? For an investment of a measly $50 and 2 hours, one can construct a closet that looks like this:
Magical, isn't it?
And while a messy, unorganized closet is terrifying, even more so is the brilliant adventure that I suggested Manfriend and I embark upon a while back. (Why are all the stupid ideas always mine?) In an attempt to prompt more significant conversation over our latest long distance stint, I suggested we read a book together. (Prior conversations were always disturbingly full of a similar lexicon excercised by my teenage self while conversing with my parents. Think: The day was fine. I did some stuff. It was pretty lame. May I please be excused?) I had read wonderful things about Freedom: A Novel by Jonathan Franzen, and bonus points - my principal had read it, so I could borrow it from her AND have things about which to converse with both her and Manfriend. A win, win, win!
Wrong.
The book is amazing, verbose, and has an inventive point of view in the narrator, but hits a little too close to home in a few ways. The main character, Patty, was a college athlete, hugely competitive, and has a less-than-ideal adult relationship with her father. She moves into suburbia and attempts to create the ideal family (not unlike what my future plans used to be for my adult life.) While the similarities pretty much stop there, I've just finished the introduction to her infidelity with her husband's best friend. (Easy, Killer. I haven't ruined anything - she tells you this is coming within the first 30 pages of the book.) Suddenly my head is swimming with textually-based questions - how is it possible that both men are so taken with such a whiny, wallowing woman? She's a former athlete - how is she lacking any form of self-respect? How is it that she is able to shower her husband with even more affection after sleeping with his best friend? How does one get to a point in one's marriage where "sleepwalking" into another man's bed becomes a plausible option?
These inquiries into the motivations of characters' developments quickly become more text-to-self than I would prefer. Having never been monogomy's number one fan (college friends will tell you - I was adamant that I would never be ridiculous enough to marry. Men are the enemy and cannot be trusted.) this has done some strange things to my psyche. I find myself asking, "Why can't I see all of Manfriend's Facebook pictures? What is he hiding?" "I wonder if that man and woman making out in the next train car are driven by the added adrenaline of having an affair?" "I don't like to eat the same thing every day, day after day for breakfast. Could this be a manifestation of my Patty-like potential?"
Manfriend, probably very perceptively, is several pages behind me and has put off our discussion of this latest development. Which is convenient for me - it gives me more time to fiendishly soul-search about the perplexing paradoxes of marriage. Oh, so healthy.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Good Thing I Left LA...
...before I got soft. Because would I be in trouble.
Rewind to last Wednesday morning at 8:15. There's a knock at the door and my very tall, broad ManFriend sends me to answer it. How heroic. "Make sure you look in the peephole!" he advises from the warmth of the bed.
"Police! Open up!"
Awesome.
Long story short - apparently a man on the floor above us kidnapped a transvestite who then escaped and alerted the police to the fact that this man had a large number of grenades in his apartment. (Cue The Jersey Shore jokes...) I suppose to take advantage of the element of surprise, NYPD thought 8AM would be the prime time to charge.
Fast forward to today, walking home from yoga, I found myself surrounded by a large shadow. Not particularly odd given the setting. (As my fifth grade students can tell you, setting = time and place. Time for this - 8:45PM. Place - New York City. Shadow - not unusual.) Also, we had just suffered the Snow-Pocalypse so a shadow of snow was not out of the question.
Was it snow? An amazing, beautiful building? Nope - it was trash. Piles and piles of trash as tall as I am. And running in front of my path was my nightmare - two rats.
Really, New York?! Really?! I love you the most, but today it's for the reason that I loved my crew coach - you're making me tougher.
Quick FBD update - Day 2 of the Anti-Bloat phase. I weighed in a whole half pound lighter this morning than I had the morning prior (the initial day) was 150. I'm two 100% mastery days in as of tonight. As always, stay tuned...
Rewind to last Wednesday morning at 8:15. There's a knock at the door and my very tall, broad ManFriend sends me to answer it. How heroic. "Make sure you look in the peephole!" he advises from the warmth of the bed.
"Police! Open up!"
Awesome.
Long story short - apparently a man on the floor above us kidnapped a transvestite who then escaped and alerted the police to the fact that this man had a large number of grenades in his apartment. (Cue The Jersey Shore jokes...) I suppose to take advantage of the element of surprise, NYPD thought 8AM would be the prime time to charge.
Fast forward to today, walking home from yoga, I found myself surrounded by a large shadow. Not particularly odd given the setting. (As my fifth grade students can tell you, setting = time and place. Time for this - 8:45PM. Place - New York City. Shadow - not unusual.) Also, we had just suffered the Snow-Pocalypse so a shadow of snow was not out of the question.
Was it snow? An amazing, beautiful building? Nope - it was trash. Piles and piles of trash as tall as I am. And running in front of my path was my nightmare - two rats.
Really, New York?! Really?! I love you the most, but today it's for the reason that I loved my crew coach - you're making me tougher.
Quick FBD update - Day 2 of the Anti-Bloat phase. I weighed in a whole half pound lighter this morning than I had the morning prior (the initial day) was 150. I'm two 100% mastery days in as of tonight. As always, stay tuned...
Monday, January 3, 2011
Hubris, Arrogance, and Narcissism in Unprecedented Amounts
That must be what I had been feeling when I decided to undergo a full diet overhaul just before the holidays. Between the tastings with our caterer, Italian Christmas Eve dinner (literally seven courses), delicious Christmas dinner, and a New Year's with the boys - who eat a lot, and often - I may not have given the FBD the best go at things.
My first clue was a conversation I had with my lovely Grandmother, who had to ask me five different times how my weight watching was going. It took that long for me to realize that:
1) I had put my aspirations for a 135 pound figure out on the Internet for public consumption.
2) Because of this fact, she was being neither cheeky nor invasive by asking, but simply interested in my progress and most importantly
3) Clearly the work necessary for such a full-body transformation was too far from my mind.
So in the spirit of the 2011 clean slate, I'm giving it another go, beginning with the Anti-Bloat 4-day overhaul. I have, however, re-committed to following things to the T.
3) Clearly the work necessary for such a full-body transformation was too far from my mind.
So in the spirit of the 2011 clean slate, I'm giving it another go, beginning with the Anti-Bloat 4-day overhaul. I have, however, re-committed to following things to the T.
This is the line-up:
While Whole Foods didn't have everything I needed, I was able to construct four 300 calorie meals for the next four days. I've been sure to script an Excel spreadsheet complete with my day-to-day meals, and will be on the scale bright and early tomorrow morning. My return to Manhattan has predictably shamed me into several days of yoga and lighter meals, so I should be close to the 148 measurements I saw when I began around a month ago. One very exciting fact (because, let's face it, the next four days will be pretty bland) is that my bill was only:
So even now, Whole Foods doesn't have to be as expensive as typically expected.
2011 promises to be a year of firsts. I am learning that in order for this to also be the year I break the 140lb mark in my 20s, it will also have to be at least a month or so of tailoring my social life, putting my eating and yoga on the front burner, and taking time to give this metamorphosis the attention it needs. Stay tuned for the more regular updates (one of the many New Year's Resolutions I'll be attempting to implement in this new decade.) Stay tuned...
So even now, Whole Foods doesn't have to be as expensive as typically expected.
2011 promises to be a year of firsts. I am learning that in order for this to also be the year I break the 140lb mark in my 20s, it will also have to be at least a month or so of tailoring my social life, putting my eating and yoga on the front burner, and taking time to give this metamorphosis the attention it needs. Stay tuned for the more regular updates (one of the many New Year's Resolutions I'll be attempting to implement in this new decade.) Stay tuned...
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Lack-luster
It's Sunday, and I've mastered the Anti-Bloat piece of the FBD with about 80% accuracy - if I had a dieting IEP, I would have met this goal. The only two hiccups came in the evening, when invited to delicious places with friends. Tuesday, Tall Friend and I had Pies and Thighs in Williamsburg. The ultimate thing that may deter my success in my pursuit for a sleeker me is this very fact - I will always choose good time with friends. And, frankly, if that's what stands in my way, that may be something I just have to accept. However, I was feeling great at the end of Day 4 on Friday (I completed an additional, less successful day on Saturday as penance for straying on Tuesday) as I was weighing in at 145.5 lbs. 3 pounds in 4 days felt really great.
Something must have happened yesterday, however. It was a pretty typical Saturday, both eating and events-wise. Saturday school, nap, SoHo for Christmas shopping, then a delightful mani-pedi followed by tacos and guacamole at Mercadito Cantina. Perfection - and full of avocados, which according to the FBD, are a great thing. I know, obviously, that eating these high-fat, high-calorie fruits should come with moderation, so that may be where I went wrong, but when I awoke this morning and stepped on my scale, I was back to 148.5. My waist is indeed an inch smaller and the book touts that water weight should be discounted. But as someone always concerned with my size and how I feel, I don't actually feel 148.5 lbs big.
Today will necessitate more reading, as well as a menu design to be sure that I go into the 1600 calorie stage prepared. I started the morning with a 410 calorie oatmeal with walnuts - I feel really full, so perhaps that's a good sign. As I plug along, I'll have to get back into the yoga, and keep trying on those thigh high socks I want so desperately to sport.
Something must have happened yesterday, however. It was a pretty typical Saturday, both eating and events-wise. Saturday school, nap, SoHo for Christmas shopping, then a delightful mani-pedi followed by tacos and guacamole at Mercadito Cantina. Perfection - and full of avocados, which according to the FBD, are a great thing. I know, obviously, that eating these high-fat, high-calorie fruits should come with moderation, so that may be where I went wrong, but when I awoke this morning and stepped on my scale, I was back to 148.5. My waist is indeed an inch smaller and the book touts that water weight should be discounted. But as someone always concerned with my size and how I feel, I don't actually feel 148.5 lbs big.
Today will necessitate more reading, as well as a menu design to be sure that I go into the 1600 calorie stage prepared. I started the morning with a 410 calorie oatmeal with walnuts - I feel really full, so perhaps that's a good sign. As I plug along, I'll have to get back into the yoga, and keep trying on those thigh high socks I want so desperately to sport.
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