Boston

I have been struggling with how to summarize (or even organize or comprehend) my thoughts and feelings and heartbreak over yesterday's devastating events at the Great Boston Marathon -- not for anyone else, just struggling to process it for myself. Sometimes writing helps.

My emotions are tangled in so many complex corners of grasping what happened, and why it evokes such raw pathos for me. I don't think I will be able to break them all down. I can't yet put to words my feelings about the coward or cowards who executed this tragedy; I can't yet put to words my feelings about the victims; I can't yet put to words my feelings for the unsung heroes we keep seeing and reading about; I can't yet put to words my feelings about my fears regarding this strange and fragile new world into which I brought my innocent nine-month old daughter; I can't yet even find words for my feelings about bravery, pain, sorrow. There certainly aren't words for the empty, violent hole that formed instantly in my belly as I started seeing "Prayers for Boston" and similar vague posts appear on my Facebook and Twitter feeds yesterday before I began to understand that something had happened. In my Boston? Every new incident of tragedy we continue to experience as a community, a country, a world shakes me to the core. But the nausea that accompanied my uncovering of what happened yesterday was different. My Boston.

The Boston Marathon represents everything that is great about sport. Its history and symbolism in the world of international running go without saying, I think. And what Boston means to runners, especially marathoners (neither of which I can claim to be, though I *can* run...), is BIG. It's more than raising money or winning a lottery bib. It's The Accomplishment. It's the feather in your running cap. It's The Goal. You qualified. You are fast. You are a Runner with a capital 'R.'

But the Boston Marathon represents something else entirely more than that for those of us who will always call Massachusetts (and Boston) home, even if we no longer actually live there. There is an energy of childhood for even the oldest Massachusetts-bred spectator each year, whether standing on the sidelines directly, or virtually, thanks to television and the Internet. There is a giddy, pure, joy - there just is. It's corny to almost any non-New Englander/non-Massachusetts-er. My husband, a Chicagoan who lived in Boston for several years, will attest to that. As exciting as the race can be for anyone, he just never wholly understood why I woke up early to bring our kitchen chairs down to the empty sidewalk to save a a perfect spot outside the door of our Hereford Street apartment for my father's and my viewing, on the last block before the turn to the Boylston finish. He certainly couldn't understand why my father would wake up at the crack of dawn to drive two hours east to sit in rain or intense heat or other weather all day with me and cheer on the runners as though each of them was our dearest relative.

The Boston Marathon is an institution. It's a holiday. It's a party. It's in the fabric of Boston's great, boisterous, unflappable personality. It is my childhood, and it evokes something in me that almost nothing else does (except some other Boston icons like the Citgo sign or a shot of the State House in a movie, or the first glimpse of the Pru from a tiny airplane window...). Again, my husband appreciates but doesn't understand why a segment on the local news on Patriot's Day each year (it's still Patriot's Day to me, even if my new state doesn't know that) in the seven since we left Boston simultaneously brings an enormous grin to my face and tears to my eyes. But it does. The same way a great Boston accent conjures a family member and just warms me right to the soul.

In sixth grade, my class made news state-wide as we trained for months to walk the Marathon as a group. On Marathon Monday 1992, we left Hopkinton hours before the runners so that we could high-five them from our lunch break along the route. News crews followed and interviewed us. I wore boxer shorts with runners on them (over spandex shorts -- how very 1992 of me!) as my "uniform." The excitement of that incredible weekend in many ways has never left me. I can feel my thrill right now if I close my eyes to see my 12-year old self crossing that iconic, beautiful finish line, holding hands with my best friends as we sang the Chariots of Fire music and slow-motion ran over the painted stripe on Boylston Street. I can think of little else from my childhood to compare to that extraordinary experience, but, I guess it speaks to some of that "something entirely else" that the Great Boston Marathon is to me and to Boston and to Massachusetts, to home.

Yesterday morning my father fulfilled one of a number of nostalgic dreams he's long talked about by riding his bike with two friends along the Marathon route into Boston, and then back out against the runner traffic to watch the race among the community of the spectator supporters out in the suburbs before heading home. (For the record, my dad is probably one of the Boston Marathon's greatest fans ever.) Here's the photo he sent to my brother and me a few hours before this day took the terrible turn that it did:

(that's Dad on the right in neon, with his buddy Bill; their other buddy, Bob, is behind the camera)

Eerie and haunting now, but this photo captures that untainted joy of Marathon Monday to which so many can relate. And even in my confusion and my sadness and my anger and, again, my simply deep, deep heartbreak, I love that that untainted joy is forever captured here.

Love that dirty water.

Best Pal

Today is my sweet dog's "birthday." It's not her birthday, but her "birthday." And she's turning five-ish. We hit the lottery four years and two months ago when we picked up our sweet girl (from this amazing shelter here in Chicago), and she's been the best pal either of us could ask for! She was about 10 months old that day, so we counted back 10 months and called February 1 her "birthday" from then on. I know every dog owner says it, but seriously, there's not a better dog and furry companion to be found on the planet. We often joke that all of our luck went into our dog, and nothing else will ever work out as well for us in life, and that's okay. Our sweet Lanie (full name Penny Lane) is truly one of the coolest and greatest animals around, and she totally deserves the Dairy Queen delight she'll get in celebration of her "birthday" later this evening!

Do you celebrate your pets' birthdays? Do your pets have great names? I love pet names. There's a little puppy French bulldog in our 'hood named Gary. Every time I see him I crack up. Lanie is Lanie because she was "Bailey" in the shelter, and she was fairly well-trained by that name, so we wanted to keep the vowel sounds and syllables the same to ease her transition. How do you name your pets?

Happy Birthday, Best Dog Ever!

(now indulge me in a photographic tribute to the aforementioned best dog ever)

(still such a sweet pup after all this time! seriously, how cute is my girl?!)

Love

Just popping in for a quick visit because I hate being so MIA over here. Things are still very topsy turvy in our world, but I think a little distraction de blog couldn't hurt a bit. Anyway... in light of this and other happenings, I've been thinking a lot about love lately. And with Valentine's Day approaching, it's hard not to think about it as it's everywhere commercially.

I've never been a celebrator of Valentine's Day in my romantic world. When Dave and I first started dating we were very poor grad students, and agreed then that we'd never buy into it, especially since we love each other every day, and tell each other multiple times a day. But with friends, I've always really liked the little love notes that St. Valentine inspires. My grandma and I used to always send each other cards on February 14. And I loved writing Valentines for my classmates, and decorating shoe boxes to collect Valentines on my desk in grade school.

Here are some simple and pretty little love tokens to share with friend loves (or romantic loves, if you do that!) in my style - I like to keep it to cards and homemades, myself...

(for just $4, this lovely postcard print from one of my favorites, Little Brown Pen, would make a sweet Valentine's card, or you could frame it and give it as a gift. There's also a beautiful 16X20 print of this graffiti art for purchase!)

(made on recycled paper and with veggie-based inks, cards like this one, by Sweet William on Etsy, are pretty special)

(I've shown love for Sparrow's Nest Script before, and my love of cards and stationery is no secret, but how sweet is this number?! Emily of SNS has some other purty Valentine's Day cards over in her Etsy shop.)

(friendship bracelets came back in this last year... they're fun and easy to make, and sweet and nostalgic to boot! what about a Valentine's Day-color-themed bracelet? nothing says love quite like homemade...)

(or another bracelet idea, the knot bracelet *symbolizing everlasting unity*, with instructions courtesy of the oh-so-crafty-and-creative Martha Stewart)

 (doodle/paint/draw your own card or image, and, as seen here-courtesy of the blog decor8-and use it as a card or ornamentation for wrapping a meaningful book or print you've found for your friend/love. )

(you might remember this photo from this post last summer... it's totally in the spirit of this post, too. plus, I love the idea of using a photo of you and a friend (or lover) as your Valentine... write an inscription on the back, or print with a border so you can etch something below or around the image, and mail it as a card, or pop it in a frame to say I love you in art.)

Do you celebrate Valentine's Day? Do you go traditional gifts, or get crafty and creative with your Love Day tributes? What's your best Valentine's Day gift - given or received?

Thanks for the love...

Photo Challenge Day 9

Someone you love. In this case TWO someones I love.

Irresistible.

All 30-Day Photography Challenge posts here.

Desert Boots and Dad

It's not just my mom to whom I can credit my fashion sensibility. More on that in another post, and in frequent mentions. My dad is a sharp dresser. I remember going shopping with him as a kid, and picking out smart socks and ties to go with his work outfits. He likes to look good, and I think that's an incredibly wonderful characteristic in a man. My dad also appreciates a good shoe. Here's a great photo of me as a little kid, still in Israel, wearing an understated outfit in order to highlight the pièce de résistance: a pair of my dad's boots (on the wrong feet). They're Frye's. High-five, Dad:

This past weekend my parents were in town and it was just a really great visit. We felt no push to do touristy things, and just played it all by ear - we cooked together, we feasted together, we walked a lot, we read in the same room, we chatted, and just generally enjoyed each other's company. On Saturday afternoon we wandered about in a nearby 'hood and poked around in a few stores. We popped into a shoe store and while my mom went over to the Ladies' department to pursue a pair of tall, dark red boots, I followed my dad over to Men's. While he pursued some sensible Keens, I pointed out a pair of casual-or-dressy shoe-boots I thought were fantastic, trying to encourage him to try them on.

"We used to call these 'Desert Boots' and they were all I wore for a time in the '70s."

Of course they were. Aren't they great? They're also still called desert boots, for the record. They're great for a man, but they're also great for a gal. They work casually with jeans or cords or cargos, but just as well with tights and a skirt or dress, no? Here are a few, and with contemporary upgrades, for the ladies:

(These are the "originals" - by Clarks, and available in a bunch of colors, and suede)

(Big Buddah on Endless - I'm really loving the wedges)

(Dolce Vita at Nordstrom)

(Fryes on SALE on Endless)

(Kelsi Dagger on Endless)

(Wanted - also Endless)

(Steve Madden at Nordstrom)

(a shoe-ier version in fun orange at Urban Outfitters)

(and a lace-less similar style, also at Urban Outfitters)

(Mia - DSW)

What do you think? Are you open to welcoming this style back in? Or do you want to kick it back to the desert, in the 70s? I love the "updates" - color, height, detailing. And I'm loving the tried and true flashback look, too... I would love to see Dave in the originals. But I'll have probably have to use reverse psychology... or a time machine.

4 Years Later...

...still miss you loads.

Love.

Monday is our anniversary. I love my husband oh so very much. I thought I'd post a few of my favorite shots from our engagement shoot to send you off into a love-ly weekend.

I love how much we laugh. These feel like forever ago and just yesterday.

(all photos by the talented Danielle Aquiline)

(one of my very favorite photos of us)

Soliciting Gift Input

I'll start with a little cliché: They say time flies when you're having fun. It's true! It does! And faster and faster the older you get, it seems. But seriously, never has this adage felt truer to me than the past two years... and I can't believe it's been two years SINCE WE GOT MARRIED. Dave and my second anniversary is at the end of this month, and every time I think about that, my head explodes a little bit. Really, I've loved Dave since, well, it feels like since always, and we've always laughed like crazy and had fun, but these past two years have really felt like the *most* fun. He's the best.

But back to the point... I'm seeking input! Anniversary gift input. Last year, for our first anniversary, we took a getaway weekend to Door County, Wisconsin... so beautiful. Walking, hiking, lounging, grilling, drive-in movie watching, frozen custard eating... It was a GREAT vacation.

(the cabin we rented)

(Lanie came, of course)

(sunset over the harbor)

(more pretty sunset)

(my favorite shot from our anniversary-day hike)

And for a gift, we decided to do something together for us. On our honeymoon to Puerto Rico, we purchased a print of a photograph at a cool little gallery in Old San Juan, but we hadn't done anything with it. So since the traditional first anniversary gift is paper, we decided that our gift would be getting our print professionally framed. And now it hangs in our new home.

(you can sort of see it behind this lamp there on the wall. trust me, it's great.)

For our second anniversary, we kind of liked the idea of making that a tradition -- rather than getting each other separate gifts, getting something together, for us to share, or for our home. And the second anniversary's traditional gift (the irony of my harping on the "traditional" is not lost on me. me? traditional? totally. ha!) is cotton. This is where I'd love some help. We can't share a shirt! So what are some good ideas? Anyone? Some input? All suggestions welcomed!

So far, I've thought of... new bedding?

Inspiration: Grandma

Have had my Gram on my mind all day today, so I thought I'd share two of my favorite photos of my grandparents, which I keep on my desk at work.

This one's from my cousin's Bar Mitzvah in 2006 (it's one of the last photos taken of my Gram before she passed the following fall):

(I love the light and love in both of their eyes in every shot they took together)

And this is my all-time favorite photo of them together, ever, hands-down, it's perfection:

(see what I'm talking about in the eyes? how awesome is this photo?!)

And here's how I display them on my desk:

(glass owl photo holder is from Pier1. I don't think they carry the owl anymore, or at least not online, but here's a glass pig from the same collection...)