Over the past few years, as we've all gravitated towards overshares and stream of consciousness writing via social media, it seems that every day of the year has some significance for someone we know. Whether it's a birthday or wedding, celebration or memorial, it's hard to scroll too far before realizing that today is a special day.
As I've gotten older, the years seem to be speeding up, the months seem to be shorter, and seasons pass faster than I can appreciate them. I try to reflect on the ones that are particularly important, but, coming to the end of 2013, it occurs to me it's not just the graduations or the weddings or even the birthdays that stick out. In fact, it's actually less about them. Those are the ones that fill the photo albums (digital and otherwise), but a lot of the experiences that really color my memories are fleeting moments that, somehow, change me.
This year, as I polish up some resolutions for 2014, I'd like to say goodbye to 2013 by sharing one of these experiences each day - my own Top 13 of 2013.
Stay tuned for the 2013 Year Book.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #13: No Day But Today
Day #13: TODAY
Ok, so this is an absolute cheat: Day #13 on my list is today.
Today, December 31st, I will end the evening amidst people I have known either for most of my life or all of theirs. My last few New Years have been welcomed with my oldest friend and her family at my side. We met over a quarter century ago, when we were probably 5 years old, and the circle of fun has grown from the two of us to include her sisters, their cousins, husbands and what seems like dozens of kids.
But here's the cheat: "today" isn't only December 31st.
It's also May 18th, and March 10th, and April 23rd. It's July 20th, and November 28th, and September 8th. April 20th, October 26th, May 30th - they're on the list too.
Trust me, I know it sounds cheesy, but 2013 had a lot of good days that made little moments big days. Like taking a hike (and NOT getting lost). An impromptu lunch date that was supposed to be a trip to the farmer's market. "Running" a Christmas 5k in the actual snow. Live tweeting with people who share your snarky side. There were weddings and babies and graduations and parties, but even more than that? There were unexpected times to relax or to laugh or to just be with people I didn't want to smother with a pillow.
So, for that, Today gets a nod as Day #13. You pick it, and it's on the list.
That'll come in handy if I'm still around to write one of these lists in the year 2365.
Ok, so this is an absolute cheat: Day #13 on my list is today.
Today, December 31st, I will end the evening amidst people I have known either for most of my life or all of theirs. My last few New Years have been welcomed with my oldest friend and her family at my side. We met over a quarter century ago, when we were probably 5 years old, and the circle of fun has grown from the two of us to include her sisters, their cousins, husbands and what seems like dozens of kids.
But here's the cheat: "today" isn't only December 31st.
It's also May 18th, and March 10th, and April 23rd. It's July 20th, and November 28th, and September 8th. April 20th, October 26th, May 30th - they're on the list too.
Trust me, I know it sounds cheesy, but 2013 had a lot of good days that made little moments big days. Like taking a hike (and NOT getting lost). An impromptu lunch date that was supposed to be a trip to the farmer's market. "Running" a Christmas 5k in the actual snow. Live tweeting with people who share your snarky side. There were weddings and babies and graduations and parties, but even more than that? There were unexpected times to relax or to laugh or to just be with people I didn't want to smother with a pillow.
So, for that, Today gets a nod as Day #13. You pick it, and it's on the list.
That'll come in handy if I'm still around to write one of these lists in the year 2365.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #12: Hidden Magic
Day #12: November 18, 2013
As I've mentioned before, several of my top days relate to Disney in some way, and even though I'm fortunate to be a Parks veteran, there's always new magic to discover. On my most recent trip, in November, I had several of those experiences. We had a lot going on during that visit, from a special preview screening of Frozen to Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party, from Glow With the Show to watching Disney literally build Christmas in front of us. There was a lot going on. But one moment in particular is one I'll always consider special.
Now, before I even get into the details of the experience, I want to point out that November 18th is my best friend Lindsay's birthday. It's also Mickey Mouse's. I always find it funny that two magical influences in my life are celebrated on the same day.
But there's also something else about November 18th and Mickey's Birthday: It's the only day out of the year when the heavens, literally, align to project a Hidden Mickey in the queue of Under the Sea, the Little Mermaid ride in Magic Kingdom.
For those who aren't aware, Hidden Mickeys are "Mickeys" that are...well, not really so hidden, for the most part. Some might be accidental tri-circle shadows, others may be intentional Mickey-heads built into scrollwork or paintings, and some aren't very hidden at all if you know where to look. They're all over the resorts, and there are several books you can use for a scavenger hunt to find them. Some of the resorts even have their own challenges - you can pick the list up at the desk of, say, the Wilderness Lodge lobby. My mom even thinks the lights on the back of the buses are Hidden Mickeys...but not until after she's been drunk on pixie dust for a few days.
The Little Mermaid Hidden Mickey, though, is special. It was designed by Imagineers and only rumored until November 18th of last year, when visitors to New Fantasyland could check it out for themselves. Lo and behold, the Imagineers had so expertly crafted the rockwork in the queue that only when the sun hit one exact point in the sky would the special Mickey project.
And it was due to happen on the Mouse's birthday.
When our trip coincided with this moment, I knew where I was going to be at noon on November 18th. I had gotten some details about where in the queue it could be seen, and I assumed I wouldn't be the only one looking for it, and the original post I saw claimed it would be visible for about an hour around noon.
Yeah, that was totally wrong, but I'll get to that.
With our MagicBand Fast Passes set to get us in to the queue at just before 12, I thought we'd be in perfect placement. I was totally wrong. I heard murmurings around of people who were clearly doing the same thing I was, hoping to get to the Mickey in time to take a picture. Then the murmurings got a little more interesting, and as I turned around, I noticed "IMAGINEER" badges on the two men in line behind me.
Needless to say, I've never concentrated so hard in line for a ride.
I eavesdropped for a couple minutes as they discussed the rockwork in the queue and debated over where the image would show up and what it would look like. They had no clue. They were even more lost than I was. We were no where near it, and the clock was ticking very close to noon.
They pointed at a waterfall and to the way the "beach" around Eric's Castle was chiseled with such precision. "It's not there, guys. It's not out here. It's inside, near the carved statue," I wanted to say.
And so I did.
I definitely interrupted them and showed them the image from last year, hoping it would help identify what part of the queue WE needed to get to, and I may or may not have pulled the girly sympathy card and whined about how the only reason we got Fast Passes for that time was to see the Hidden Mickey.
One man took my phone and looked at it, telling his Imagineer friend, "Here - she's got it. It's inside the curve where the statue is." I know. That's what I said.
And then he asked if I wanted to go with them.
Um....I know that running off with a stranger man is pretty much the beginning of a Lifetime movie, but I was willing to take the chance. Yes. YES I want to go! He asked how big our party was, and I pointed to my mom and sisters, "It's just us." I waved them to follow but, for whatever reason, they chose not to. I think they were concerned about jumping the line but...well, I'll be concerned with that another day.
Anyway, the Imagineers opened a couple of gates I never noticed to approach the bend in the queue from another angle "backstage". And there it was.
The Hidden Mickey. A glorious lighted Mickey-head near the base of the wall.
If I'm being honest, while I delight in seeing unexpected Hidden Mickeys, it's not a big deal to me. I don't get that excited about them, I rarely hunt them down, and I don't think about them that much. Except this one. Because this one was PLANNED. This one was the result of someone deciding to do something secret and special that took actual PLANNING all for, what, a few minutes once a year?
I don't understand how science works when we're talking about the sunlight and stuff, but I do know that that Mickey head disappeared a lot quicker than I expected. What I had been told would be an hour actually lasted less than ten minutes. In fact, by the time the Imagineers and I had arrived, it was already out of perfect position, and a moment after that, it was barely distinguishable from the other shadows on the rocks.
But here's why it was so cool: I saw it with Imagineers. Imagineers who had actually WORKED on the designs for New Fantasyland. These guys, the ones who literally built the Magic Kingdom. One of them told me he'd been working on Storybook Circus for the last three years and had only just heard about the Little Mermaid Hidden Mickey that morning - he was completely unaware that it existed. He showed me an email on his phone, directly from the someone who was responsible for the queue, that gave the precise schedule for viewing.
I loved it. I loved that these people, these Imagineers, found every bit as much enjoyment in their own work as the rest of us do. I love that there are passionate people who bring us the things we're passionate about. I told the Imagineer how impressed I was by the work and how much I wished I could be one of them.
"So do it," he said simply. "Why wouldn't you?"
And I looked around the beautiful design and the architecture and the way the sun was hitting the rockwork at that moment and explained that I wasn't good at that stuff. Math, science...I can't figure out what time the sun would be at that angle. I might be able to write a story about it, though. And do you know what he told me?
"So what? I can't figure it out either. That's why we have people to do THAT stuff for us. We do the other stuff."
Well. I mean...I can live with that. I can do the other stuff.
It wasn't a long conversation before the Imagineers disappeared behind that wall again to go back to work, and soon my family was joining up with me from around the bend. By that time the Mickey was nothing, and there was no evidence of my Imagineering moment.
But I know it happened. And it was damn cool.
Hidden Mickeys are all about finding magic in unexpected places. I think got two-for-one on this deal.
As I've mentioned before, several of my top days relate to Disney in some way, and even though I'm fortunate to be a Parks veteran, there's always new magic to discover. On my most recent trip, in November, I had several of those experiences. We had a lot going on during that visit, from a special preview screening of Frozen to Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party, from Glow With the Show to watching Disney literally build Christmas in front of us. There was a lot going on. But one moment in particular is one I'll always consider special.
Now, before I even get into the details of the experience, I want to point out that November 18th is my best friend Lindsay's birthday. It's also Mickey Mouse's. I always find it funny that two magical influences in my life are celebrated on the same day.
But there's also something else about November 18th and Mickey's Birthday: It's the only day out of the year when the heavens, literally, align to project a Hidden Mickey in the queue of Under the Sea, the Little Mermaid ride in Magic Kingdom.
For those who aren't aware, Hidden Mickeys are "Mickeys" that are...well, not really so hidden, for the most part. Some might be accidental tri-circle shadows, others may be intentional Mickey-heads built into scrollwork or paintings, and some aren't very hidden at all if you know where to look. They're all over the resorts, and there are several books you can use for a scavenger hunt to find them. Some of the resorts even have their own challenges - you can pick the list up at the desk of, say, the Wilderness Lodge lobby. My mom even thinks the lights on the back of the buses are Hidden Mickeys...but not until after she's been drunk on pixie dust for a few days.
The Little Mermaid Hidden Mickey, though, is special. It was designed by Imagineers and only rumored until November 18th of last year, when visitors to New Fantasyland could check it out for themselves. Lo and behold, the Imagineers had so expertly crafted the rockwork in the queue that only when the sun hit one exact point in the sky would the special Mickey project.
And it was due to happen on the Mouse's birthday.
 |
| Under the Sea! |
Yeah, that was totally wrong, but I'll get to that.
With our MagicBand Fast Passes set to get us in to the queue at just before 12, I thought we'd be in perfect placement. I was totally wrong. I heard murmurings around of people who were clearly doing the same thing I was, hoping to get to the Mickey in time to take a picture. Then the murmurings got a little more interesting, and as I turned around, I noticed "IMAGINEER" badges on the two men in line behind me.
Needless to say, I've never concentrated so hard in line for a ride.
I eavesdropped for a couple minutes as they discussed the rockwork in the queue and debated over where the image would show up and what it would look like. They had no clue. They were even more lost than I was. We were no where near it, and the clock was ticking very close to noon.
They pointed at a waterfall and to the way the "beach" around Eric's Castle was chiseled with such precision. "It's not there, guys. It's not out here. It's inside, near the carved statue," I wanted to say.
And so I did.
I definitely interrupted them and showed them the image from last year, hoping it would help identify what part of the queue WE needed to get to, and I may or may not have pulled the girly sympathy card and whined about how the only reason we got Fast Passes for that time was to see the Hidden Mickey.
One man took my phone and looked at it, telling his Imagineer friend, "Here - she's got it. It's inside the curve where the statue is." I know. That's what I said.
And then he asked if I wanted to go with them.
Um....I know that running off with a stranger man is pretty much the beginning of a Lifetime movie, but I was willing to take the chance. Yes. YES I want to go! He asked how big our party was, and I pointed to my mom and sisters, "It's just us." I waved them to follow but, for whatever reason, they chose not to. I think they were concerned about jumping the line but...well, I'll be concerned with that another day.
Anyway, the Imagineers opened a couple of gates I never noticed to approach the bend in the queue from another angle "backstage". And there it was.
The Hidden Mickey. A glorious lighted Mickey-head near the base of the wall.
 |
| Birthday Hidden Mickey |
 |
| One piece of the rockwork |
I don't understand how science works when we're talking about the sunlight and stuff, but I do know that that Mickey head disappeared a lot quicker than I expected. What I had been told would be an hour actually lasted less than ten minutes. In fact, by the time the Imagineers and I had arrived, it was already out of perfect position, and a moment after that, it was barely distinguishable from the other shadows on the rocks.
 |
| Already out of position a moment later |
I loved it. I loved that these people, these Imagineers, found every bit as much enjoyment in their own work as the rest of us do. I love that there are passionate people who bring us the things we're passionate about. I told the Imagineer how impressed I was by the work and how much I wished I could be one of them.
"So do it," he said simply. "Why wouldn't you?"
And I looked around the beautiful design and the architecture and the way the sun was hitting the rockwork at that moment and explained that I wasn't good at that stuff. Math, science...I can't figure out what time the sun would be at that angle. I might be able to write a story about it, though. And do you know what he told me?
 |
| Hidden Mickey, hidden again |
Well. I mean...I can live with that. I can do the other stuff.
It wasn't a long conversation before the Imagineers disappeared behind that wall again to go back to work, and soon my family was joining up with me from around the bend. By that time the Mickey was nothing, and there was no evidence of my Imagineering moment.
But I know it happened. And it was damn cool.
Hidden Mickeys are all about finding magic in unexpected places. I think got two-for-one on this deal.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #11: How We Roll
Day #11: October 5-6, 2013
A lot of people use New Year's to make relationship resolutions, and as I've gotten older, I've come to appreciate all the different relationships in my life. Sometimes the people you're looking for don't come around, but the people you aren't expecting make up for it tenfold.
In 2013, a lot of new relationships developed, but it's my friendship with the Scarjanis that I count as the most special one. Mia and I, of course, have been close for a long time, and she's an important part of my small circle of besties. What's special about this year, however, is that I've also come to consider Ferdinand a trusted support as well.
Lots of times, friends and significant others politely meet but never truly bond. There's nothing wrong with that. It's nice to be able to hang out and enjoy each others' company, but I have a lot of people that I consider very good friends whose husbands merit barely a wave as we leave him with the kids to go grab dinner. As a single person, it's often hard to really get to know those boyfriends or husbands because we just don't have a lot of mutual interests, and my friends and I very much value our girl time.
But then there's Ferdinand. Mia and Ferdinand - the Scarjanis! - are a terrific couple to be around as a twosome. They're a special pair because as simply as they care for each other in the smallest of big ways, they embrace me (and you) with their love, too. Being in their home is just warm, and it's fun, and it's never about awkward small talk.
This fall, Ferdinand took a step towards a goal he's been planning for a long time with How We Roll. It's basically an egg roll business in which you've never experienced anything more tasty in your life. I've been hearing about How We Roll for quite some time, but I don't think I really appreciated exactly what Ferdinand was capable of.
And then October came, bringing Shelton Day with it. When I got a last minute text from Ferdinand asking if I could help roll with him, I didn't even pause for a second before I said yes. Honestly, I had no clue. Not a clue what I agreed to, not a clue as to why I agreed, not a clue as to what the hell he was doing. But you know what? It was Ferdinand, asking for my assistance, so whatever it was, the answer would be yes.
Over the course of a Saturday afternoon, I joined Ferdinand's best friends to roll. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands, I don't even know. Rolls, I mean. Not friends. There were less than a handful of us in that kitchen, and we were greatly outnumbered by egg rolls.
I remember endless trays of beautiful buffalo chicken burning my esophagus when I breathed in deeply and boxes of wraps that weighed more than me, and OH, the bowls of steak just waiting to be folded into the warm blanket of an eggroll. Buffarolls and PA'Steak Rolls, and if your taste buds are piqued, they should be.
And through it all, Chef Ferdinand took charge of that legit restaurant kitchen. Politely giving orders and taking care of business. I love that he trusted us to get the job done, and I love that we did, singing along with the oldies Johnny Rocket-style, elbow deep in buffalo chicken.
But there's a reason this day stood out for me. Two reasons, actually. The first, as I said, is because I was honored that Ferdinand invited me to be part of the process of something that was special to him. The second? The second is because I was so proud that he actually took a chance on that something special.
And, as an extra bonus, there was more good news that day from my Disney friend JZ, who was spending the afternoon at an audition to make his own dream come true. Hearing the smile in his voice when he called to update me on how the process was going is exactly what every one of these decisions should be about. Every step should be one you feel good about, and every step should get you closer than you would be if you just stood still.
Walking up to the How We Roll booth at Shelton Day to see my best friend Mia manning the fryer and Ferdinand charming the crowds once again, I don't know how he brought it together so quickly. I took it as a "quit talking and start doing" lesson, because that's the only reason anyone got to experience the magic of a Buffaroll that day.
And that, my friends, is how we roll.
A lot of people use New Year's to make relationship resolutions, and as I've gotten older, I've come to appreciate all the different relationships in my life. Sometimes the people you're looking for don't come around, but the people you aren't expecting make up for it tenfold.
In 2013, a lot of new relationships developed, but it's my friendship with the Scarjanis that I count as the most special one. Mia and I, of course, have been close for a long time, and she's an important part of my small circle of besties. What's special about this year, however, is that I've also come to consider Ferdinand a trusted support as well.
Lots of times, friends and significant others politely meet but never truly bond. There's nothing wrong with that. It's nice to be able to hang out and enjoy each others' company, but I have a lot of people that I consider very good friends whose husbands merit barely a wave as we leave him with the kids to go grab dinner. As a single person, it's often hard to really get to know those boyfriends or husbands because we just don't have a lot of mutual interests, and my friends and I very much value our girl time.
But then there's Ferdinand. Mia and Ferdinand - the Scarjanis! - are a terrific couple to be around as a twosome. They're a special pair because as simply as they care for each other in the smallest of big ways, they embrace me (and you) with their love, too. Being in their home is just warm, and it's fun, and it's never about awkward small talk.
 |
| Give me a home where the buffaroll roam... |
And then October came, bringing Shelton Day with it. When I got a last minute text from Ferdinand asking if I could help roll with him, I didn't even pause for a second before I said yes. Honestly, I had no clue. Not a clue what I agreed to, not a clue as to why I agreed, not a clue as to what the hell he was doing. But you know what? It was Ferdinand, asking for my assistance, so whatever it was, the answer would be yes.
 |
| Absolutely serious at all times. |
I remember endless trays of beautiful buffalo chicken burning my esophagus when I breathed in deeply and boxes of wraps that weighed more than me, and OH, the bowls of steak just waiting to be folded into the warm blanket of an eggroll. Buffarolls and PA'Steak Rolls, and if your taste buds are piqued, they should be.
 |
| Ferdinand taking charge |
But there's a reason this day stood out for me. Two reasons, actually. The first, as I said, is because I was honored that Ferdinand invited me to be part of the process of something that was special to him. The second? The second is because I was so proud that he actually took a chance on that something special.
And, as an extra bonus, there was more good news that day from my Disney friend JZ, who was spending the afternoon at an audition to make his own dream come true. Hearing the smile in his voice when he called to update me on how the process was going is exactly what every one of these decisions should be about. Every step should be one you feel good about, and every step should get you closer than you would be if you just stood still.
Walking up to the How We Roll booth at Shelton Day to see my best friend Mia manning the fryer and Ferdinand charming the crowds once again, I don't know how he brought it together so quickly. I took it as a "quit talking and start doing" lesson, because that's the only reason anyone got to experience the magic of a Buffaroll that day.
And that, my friends, is how we roll.
 |
| My friends get a thumbs up. |
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #10: The Music of My Heart
Day(s) #10: August 25-29, 2013
Strap yourselves into the DeLorean, ladies and gentlemen - we're double time traveling for Day #10!
Back in August, for one glorious week, I got to revisit one of the most exciting periods of my life - The *NSYNC Era. Now, in the interest of full disclosure for all my e-friends out there who don't know me in "real life," it should be noted that I've never TRULY closed the book on the *NSYNC era. I've proudly kept my boys on my heavy rotation playlist, and it's not unusual for me to find a way to make *NSYNC relevant to conversation on a regular basis. Normally, however, I'm aware that I'm living somewhere in 1999, and there aren't a lot of people there with me.
That changed in August. For one week, a rumor fueled the teenybopper groupie within not only me, but pretty much the entire WORLD, feeding her with the swoony gossip that I haven't truly felt since their "hiatus" began a decade ago. All of a sudden, people CARED about my boys as much as I did! All of a sudden, people were interested in the stories they typically tune out of! All of a sudden, everyone agreed that *NSYNC should never have left me!
Uh, us. Should never have left US. That's what I said.
Anyway, the days leading up to *NSYNC's reunion at the MTV VMAs were like old times for me. I had so many amazing experiences as a superfan and met some really terrific people that I've continued to stay in touch with, so any excuse to go back to those days is a welcome one for me. So much has changed in the 15 (FIFTEEN?!) years since my first encounter with my boys, but it's amazing how quickly I can be right back there in that moment, feeling the butterflies of hearing JC's voice take over an arena. One of my favorite parts of that week was revisiting the artifacts from that *NSYNC Era, the details of which I wrote about in this blog.
Especially because it happened just a few weeks after I was hit on the head with clarity (see: Day #9), I also took all of this as a sign that I had made the right decision. Back in the turn of the century (that is, circa 2000), nothing was more important to my happiness than *NSYNC.
Seriously.
Nothing.
Concerts, TRL, Meet 'n Greets...I literally don't think anything brought me more joy during that era than being in a tv studio or arena witnessing the electricity that was *NSYNC. It was the dawn of social media and the internet, as celebrities and publicists began to experiment with the power of engagement, and, because I was a young student who didn't know any better, it seemed like a great job to be in.
I still think that. But, if I'm being honest? I lost it for a few years, as my life took one of those detours, and the adrenaline fueled lifestyle of a professional working in that environment passed by me, though I'm still convinced I had the opportunity to get so much closer to it. So much. To the point where even I sometimes wonder if the life I lived for those few years was real.
But then the reunion came around. And I stood up refusing to blink, holding my breath, feeling everything I felt a decade ago, with the only difference being that I was in my living room this time, instead of watching it live on a stage a few feet in front of me.
And to top it all off? *NSYNC let the entire fandom know about me just a few days later. With one tweet, it was all worth it.
Twitter fame doesn't last long, of course, but the excitement, for me, has had a residual effect. In a year of moments that have given me confidence in my choices, one tweet can do a lot to remind me that sometimes the right people do take notice.
My boys, as a group, have since gone back into the vault, and it might be a long time before we hear those voices live as one again, but the sweet tone of the reunion week will echo for quite some time.
Strap yourselves into the DeLorean, ladies and gentlemen - we're double time traveling for Day #10!
Back in August, for one glorious week, I got to revisit one of the most exciting periods of my life - The *NSYNC Era. Now, in the interest of full disclosure for all my e-friends out there who don't know me in "real life," it should be noted that I've never TRULY closed the book on the *NSYNC era. I've proudly kept my boys on my heavy rotation playlist, and it's not unusual for me to find a way to make *NSYNC relevant to conversation on a regular basis. Normally, however, I'm aware that I'm living somewhere in 1999, and there aren't a lot of people there with me.
That changed in August. For one week, a rumor fueled the teenybopper groupie within not only me, but pretty much the entire WORLD, feeding her with the swoony gossip that I haven't truly felt since their "hiatus" began a decade ago. All of a sudden, people CARED about my boys as much as I did! All of a sudden, people were interested in the stories they typically tune out of! All of a sudden, everyone agreed that *NSYNC should never have left me!
Uh, us. Should never have left US. That's what I said.
 |
| Artifacts. |
Especially because it happened just a few weeks after I was hit on the head with clarity (see: Day #9), I also took all of this as a sign that I had made the right decision. Back in the turn of the century (that is, circa 2000), nothing was more important to my happiness than *NSYNC.
Seriously.
Nothing.
Concerts, TRL, Meet 'n Greets...I literally don't think anything brought me more joy during that era than being in a tv studio or arena witnessing the electricity that was *NSYNC. It was the dawn of social media and the internet, as celebrities and publicists began to experiment with the power of engagement, and, because I was a young student who didn't know any better, it seemed like a great job to be in.
I still think that. But, if I'm being honest? I lost it for a few years, as my life took one of those detours, and the adrenaline fueled lifestyle of a professional working in that environment passed by me, though I'm still convinced I had the opportunity to get so much closer to it. So much. To the point where even I sometimes wonder if the life I lived for those few years was real.
But then the reunion came around. And I stood up refusing to blink, holding my breath, feeling everything I felt a decade ago, with the only difference being that I was in my living room this time, instead of watching it live on a stage a few feet in front of me.
And to top it all off? *NSYNC let the entire fandom know about me just a few days later. With one tweet, it was all worth it.
 |
| Of all the things to be embarrassed about in this photo, I couldn't be more proud to own it. |
My boys, as a group, have since gone back into the vault, and it might be a long time before we hear those voices live as one again, but the sweet tone of the reunion week will echo for quite some time.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #9: Clarity
Day #9: August, 2013
A few of my top "days" actually cheat a little in that they're actually a specific time rather than a specific day. One of those times occurred in early August.
I've previously written about a general feeling of uncertainly in regards to what I want to be when I grow up, the fluid nature of where I expect to see myself in five or ten or thirty years. I can picture the future in a lot of different ways, some more satisfying than others, always making it work, but, usually, still not feeling "settled".
I'm confident I'm not the only unsettled person in the world. Not even the only unsettled person in MY world. I know people have different dreams for themselves, I know that they've imagined different outcomes. Some are still working towards those visions, others have tossed them aside in favor of detoured lives they're content to live. I think that knowing what you don't want can be easy, knowing what you do want can be hard, but knowing what you're willing to sacrifice to actually get there? That's the most difficult part. And, in my experience, it's not until you're forced to answer that question that you can feel better about being unsettled.
That was my experience this summer. For a lot of reasons, I don't want to get into too much detail, but I'm hoping that maybe by NOT being specific, this might apply to more people than just me.
I finished school this year. My Master's program in Corporate Communication. It was really just an expensive excuse to develop myself professionally and hopefully put me on a better path to being settled. I was in the program for two years before I found this clarity, and in the end? It had nothing to do with school.
I've often been asked what my "dream" job would be. I usually rattle off a couple of Disney-related ideas (Monorail driver! Balloon vendor! Princess!) before getting to the "real" stuff - the writing, the public relations, the event management - that actually encompasses what I've gone to school for. (Twice.) On paper, I want to be involved with social media engagement, I want to work on community campaigns, I want to travel, I want to be part of something that makes me feel good.
On paper.
And, in August, I was given an opportunity to do just that, for a cause that has hit very close to home recently. It was perfect. On paper.
Yet, for three agonizing days, that paper got flipped over and folded into origami creatures and turned around every which way. The perfect job - on paper - just felt...unsettled. I couldn't find the catch. It was an amazing opportunity that I will NEVER again have in my lap. Besides the typical things I freak out about - decisions and change - I couldn't find one substantial negative in the offer. Oh, sure, there were smaller things that would have had to have been discussed, but the job and situation itself? It was exactly what I would've written for myself.
Except that it felt unsettled.
I knew that if I took that opportunity, it would be another bullet on my resume. I knew that I would still be wondering how long until my next chance. And I didn't want to do that. As I said, I don't like decisions, and I don't like change. I want my next move to be a long term one, not just another box I check off on my Linked In profile.
But, sometimes, it's hard to tell what part of your brain is talking to you. The scared part. The practical part. The lazy part. The egotistical part. The naive part. The voices are probably all there, and, stupidly, I listened to them all. I made my decision based on all those voices in my brain, and I pressed send on the email.
And then I literally panicked.
It was that moment that my gut woke up and banged on the door of my heart and asked what the hell was going on. Great timing, you two. It would've been helpful to have the same visceral reaction a day or so before it had come to that.
As soon as I had my answer, I went from the anguish of decision making to the complete adrenaline rush of clarity. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew I wouldn't feel settled without doing it. But, for the first time? I felt like I could. I felt like I had to. I felt like I would.
And that clarity has made every day since a little bit easier to battle, knowing that it's my choice to be here, right now, in THIS life, but working towards something else. Each day is not a trap. It's an opportunity.
In the midst of all of this decision making, I was given advice that I think is actually pretty helpful. When forced to make a choice, put your options down on slips of paper or even assign them to different sides of one coin. Choose the paper (or flip the coin), and before you even get a chance to read the outcome fate has chosen for you, you'll already know what you HOPE the answer will be.
Heads for yes, tails for no. Either way, while that coin is in the air, a strong piece of you will be willing it to land one way or the other.
And THAT is your answer.
A few of my top "days" actually cheat a little in that they're actually a specific time rather than a specific day. One of those times occurred in early August.
I've previously written about a general feeling of uncertainly in regards to what I want to be when I grow up, the fluid nature of where I expect to see myself in five or ten or thirty years. I can picture the future in a lot of different ways, some more satisfying than others, always making it work, but, usually, still not feeling "settled".
I'm confident I'm not the only unsettled person in the world. Not even the only unsettled person in MY world. I know people have different dreams for themselves, I know that they've imagined different outcomes. Some are still working towards those visions, others have tossed them aside in favor of detoured lives they're content to live. I think that knowing what you don't want can be easy, knowing what you do want can be hard, but knowing what you're willing to sacrifice to actually get there? That's the most difficult part. And, in my experience, it's not until you're forced to answer that question that you can feel better about being unsettled.
That was my experience this summer. For a lot of reasons, I don't want to get into too much detail, but I'm hoping that maybe by NOT being specific, this might apply to more people than just me.
I finished school this year. My Master's program in Corporate Communication. It was really just an expensive excuse to develop myself professionally and hopefully put me on a better path to being settled. I was in the program for two years before I found this clarity, and in the end? It had nothing to do with school.
I've often been asked what my "dream" job would be. I usually rattle off a couple of Disney-related ideas (Monorail driver! Balloon vendor! Princess!) before getting to the "real" stuff - the writing, the public relations, the event management - that actually encompasses what I've gone to school for. (Twice.) On paper, I want to be involved with social media engagement, I want to work on community campaigns, I want to travel, I want to be part of something that makes me feel good.
On paper.
And, in August, I was given an opportunity to do just that, for a cause that has hit very close to home recently. It was perfect. On paper.
Yet, for three agonizing days, that paper got flipped over and folded into origami creatures and turned around every which way. The perfect job - on paper - just felt...unsettled. I couldn't find the catch. It was an amazing opportunity that I will NEVER again have in my lap. Besides the typical things I freak out about - decisions and change - I couldn't find one substantial negative in the offer. Oh, sure, there were smaller things that would have had to have been discussed, but the job and situation itself? It was exactly what I would've written for myself.
Except that it felt unsettled.
I knew that if I took that opportunity, it would be another bullet on my resume. I knew that I would still be wondering how long until my next chance. And I didn't want to do that. As I said, I don't like decisions, and I don't like change. I want my next move to be a long term one, not just another box I check off on my Linked In profile.
But, sometimes, it's hard to tell what part of your brain is talking to you. The scared part. The practical part. The lazy part. The egotistical part. The naive part. The voices are probably all there, and, stupidly, I listened to them all. I made my decision based on all those voices in my brain, and I pressed send on the email.
And then I literally panicked.
It was that moment that my gut woke up and banged on the door of my heart and asked what the hell was going on. Great timing, you two. It would've been helpful to have the same visceral reaction a day or so before it had come to that.
As soon as I had my answer, I went from the anguish of decision making to the complete adrenaline rush of clarity. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew I wouldn't feel settled without doing it. But, for the first time? I felt like I could. I felt like I had to. I felt like I would.
And that clarity has made every day since a little bit easier to battle, knowing that it's my choice to be here, right now, in THIS life, but working towards something else. Each day is not a trap. It's an opportunity.
In the midst of all of this decision making, I was given advice that I think is actually pretty helpful. When forced to make a choice, put your options down on slips of paper or even assign them to different sides of one coin. Choose the paper (or flip the coin), and before you even get a chance to read the outcome fate has chosen for you, you'll already know what you HOPE the answer will be.
Heads for yes, tails for no. Either way, while that coin is in the air, a strong piece of you will be willing it to land one way or the other.
And THAT is your answer.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #8: I Will Never Be Royaaaal
Day #8: July 22, 2013
On different level entirely, there was another birth we were all excited for this summer: The Royal Baby. I won't compare Ben, a child I will watch grow up and who will be a special part of my life, to the future monarch of a country I don't live in, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to buying into the hype that surrounded his arrival.
Here's the truth: Like most other girls born between, say, 1978 and 1990, I have swooned for the Princes of Wales (William and Harry, not Charles). I mean, I can't even lie - I should have said "swoon" because I still do. So, Harry? Just sayin...if you're a blog reader, you know where to find me.
But I digress. The point is, I've had my eye on those royal boys for a long time. I'm a sucker for a fairy tale, and a prince is kiiiiiind of a key ingredient in all the best ones. Throw in a good looks, a British accent, and centuries of history, and I'm pretty much salivating for any bit of news about either William or Harry.
And then came Kate.
Like most other girls born between 1978 and 1990, I should've hated her. I should've been jealous of her story, of her prince, of her amazing hair. And I am...but I can't hate her. I love her. I want to BE her when I grow up.
Now, believe what you want about how it came to be, but the story I love is that Kate, like the rest of us, had a crush on William. Kate, unlike the rest of us, figured out a way - through informed decisions, smiles of fate, her own charm - to become his Princess. I can't hate her for that. I only hate myself for not doing it first. Or...ever. Like, even in a million years ever.
So yes, when Kate's pregnancy was announced, and it coincided with the very anticipated pregnancy of my best friend, I was excited along with the rest of the world. I wish I could've been in London as they prepared for the royal arrival, but, as that was an impossibility, I settled for the next best thing.
Disney World.
It sounds ridiculous, but for me? It was a really neat experience. Nonstop coverage by the international press guaranteed instant updates no matter where you might be when it happened, so what better place to celebrate a royal baby than in a castle? Or visiting with Princesses? Or, especially, London itself (via Epcot)?!
And that's what we did. The day Prince George was born, I left the room with CNN on baby watch in the morning, waiting for the ALERT! text that would come at some point that Monday. We started our day walking through the UK in Epcot, but spent the afternoon in the Magic Kingdom because - obviously - that's where MY Royal Family lives.
Lunch? Maybe the castle we ate in was practically brand new and not seeping centuries of history, but the Beast does a pretty good job keeping the ballroom looking grande. By the afternoon, we were waiting to meet Disney's golden girls - Rapunzel, Aurora, and Cinderella, and anxiously awaiting an announcement from the Palace.
Like, the real one. Buckingham. From the Queen, not Mickey Mouse. At that point, my bets were still on a tiny Princess making her debut, but as we stood waiting for Disney Royalty, British Royalty was announced: It's A BOY! the alert decreed.
Of course it was. Kate knows all about how this "heir" thing is supposed to work.
A boy. A prince. A future king. Yet, in that second, he was the same person our baby Ben was, and Kate the same person my Sarah was - a new mom.
And then the world rejoiced and there were trumpets and press outings and official portraits and whatnot so Ben and George had pretty divergent lives from that point forward, but for THAT moment...history and my world weren't that far off.
We went back to visit the UK Pavilion that afternoon because it was the closest I could get to London, and you know what? It was a pretty cool feeling to be there.
Cheers to you, Prince George!
On different level entirely, there was another birth we were all excited for this summer: The Royal Baby. I won't compare Ben, a child I will watch grow up and who will be a special part of my life, to the future monarch of a country I don't live in, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to buying into the hype that surrounded his arrival.
Here's the truth: Like most other girls born between, say, 1978 and 1990, I have swooned for the Princes of Wales (William and Harry, not Charles). I mean, I can't even lie - I should have said "swoon" because I still do. So, Harry? Just sayin...if you're a blog reader, you know where to find me.
But I digress. The point is, I've had my eye on those royal boys for a long time. I'm a sucker for a fairy tale, and a prince is kiiiiiind of a key ingredient in all the best ones. Throw in a good looks, a British accent, and centuries of history, and I'm pretty much salivating for any bit of news about either William or Harry.And then came Kate.
Like most other girls born between 1978 and 1990, I should've hated her. I should've been jealous of her story, of her prince, of her amazing hair. And I am...but I can't hate her. I love her. I want to BE her when I grow up.
Now, believe what you want about how it came to be, but the story I love is that Kate, like the rest of us, had a crush on William. Kate, unlike the rest of us, figured out a way - through informed decisions, smiles of fate, her own charm - to become his Princess. I can't hate her for that. I only hate myself for not doing it first. Or...ever. Like, even in a million years ever.
So yes, when Kate's pregnancy was announced, and it coincided with the very anticipated pregnancy of my best friend, I was excited along with the rest of the world. I wish I could've been in London as they prepared for the royal arrival, but, as that was an impossibility, I settled for the next best thing.
Disney World.
It sounds ridiculous, but for me? It was a really neat experience. Nonstop coverage by the international press guaranteed instant updates no matter where you might be when it happened, so what better place to celebrate a royal baby than in a castle? Or visiting with Princesses? Or, especially, London itself (via Epcot)?!
 |
| What's that? A Prince is born?! |
Lunch? Maybe the castle we ate in was practically brand new and not seeping centuries of history, but the Beast does a pretty good job keeping the ballroom looking grande. By the afternoon, we were waiting to meet Disney's golden girls - Rapunzel, Aurora, and Cinderella, and anxiously awaiting an announcement from the Palace.
Like, the real one. Buckingham. From the Queen, not Mickey Mouse. At that point, my bets were still on a tiny Princess making her debut, but as we stood waiting for Disney Royalty, British Royalty was announced: It's A BOY! the alert decreed.
Of course it was. Kate knows all about how this "heir" thing is supposed to work.
 |
| Chalk art celebrating the news! |
And then the world rejoiced and there were trumpets and press outings and official portraits and whatnot so Ben and George had pretty divergent lives from that point forward, but for THAT moment...history and my world weren't that far off.
We went back to visit the UK Pavilion that afternoon because it was the closest I could get to London, and you know what? It was a pretty cool feeling to be there.
Cheers to you, Prince George!
 |
| Tea and...well, Minnie cake. |
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #7: First Breath
Day #7: July 12, 2013
I don't have kids of my own, but I have been blessed to welcome lives with so many of my good friends. With so many little ones coming into the world, sometimes you take it for granted.
And sometimes you don't. Christmas, for example. And also July 12.
Bennett Russell was one of the times we absolutely didn't.
After a very long year, Ben's arrival felt like the first time any of us could shift focus on what might've been, what could've been, to really appreciate what was.
My friends have been stronger than I'm sure even they could've expected, putting their faith into something much greater than us, but so much was NOT said in one year. So many times you catch yourself about to say something that you take back, unsure of how it will sound if you say it. So many questions about what is right, when is it the appropriate time for this or that. I'm not really sure how they did it, except that I look at Abbie and realize they had to. There was no option to just shut their eyes and sleep for a week or a year or a lifetime because Abbie wouldn't let them.
She's given us a lot of gifts in the last few years. I believe that was one of them. I can't put myself in their shoes, but I'm pretty confident that Abbie gave them a reason to wake up in the morning.
It was a tense week leading up to Ben's arrival. Besides Sarah's nerves as his due date approached, I was watching the calendar hoping he'd make his entrance before I got on a plane headed to Disney World. I know my presence in the state made no difference to him or his new family, but I also know I wouldn't have thought of anything but them if he was still living inside Sarah when I landed in Orlando.
The night he was born, Sarah and I were casually texting about...well, probably any number of random things, but I can assure you none of them were "I AM IN LABOR." She was home. Russ was sleeping off pain killers from a dental procedure. And then the texts stopped with a vague message about heading to the hospital.
I wanted to set up my phone with a special text alert so that I would definitely wake up overnight for any updates from Russ. I was going to be prepared, I was going to be attentive, and I was going to be there for my friends.
I didn't even get a chance to apply the updated text alerts before Russ's message heralding Ben's arrival came through.
Sarah, with no time to consider pain killers OR what she was about to endure, once again exhibited both mental and physical strength that I can't even imagine. The headline from Russ was confusing - it seemed impossible that Sarah and I were texting casually less than two hours before, and now she had twice as many kids as she did the last time I talked to her - but Ben had arrived. Faster than his mom could get some drugs to make it easier, but also faster than his mom could worry about anything that could possibly go wrong.
So many thoughts that I just can't put into a blog. Some of them I shared with Sarah and Russ, some of them I cried about privately, some of them make me even stronger in my faith that a higher power is looking out for us all.
Ben was born at just the right moment. For the first time in exactly one year, we were finally able to take our first breaths.
I don't have kids of my own, but I have been blessed to welcome lives with so many of my good friends. With so many little ones coming into the world, sometimes you take it for granted.
And sometimes you don't. Christmas, for example. And also July 12.
Bennett Russell was one of the times we absolutely didn't.
After a very long year, Ben's arrival felt like the first time any of us could shift focus on what might've been, what could've been, to really appreciate what was.
My friends have been stronger than I'm sure even they could've expected, putting their faith into something much greater than us, but so much was NOT said in one year. So many times you catch yourself about to say something that you take back, unsure of how it will sound if you say it. So many questions about what is right, when is it the appropriate time for this or that. I'm not really sure how they did it, except that I look at Abbie and realize they had to. There was no option to just shut their eyes and sleep for a week or a year or a lifetime because Abbie wouldn't let them.
She's given us a lot of gifts in the last few years. I believe that was one of them. I can't put myself in their shoes, but I'm pretty confident that Abbie gave them a reason to wake up in the morning.
It was a tense week leading up to Ben's arrival. Besides Sarah's nerves as his due date approached, I was watching the calendar hoping he'd make his entrance before I got on a plane headed to Disney World. I know my presence in the state made no difference to him or his new family, but I also know I wouldn't have thought of anything but them if he was still living inside Sarah when I landed in Orlando.
The night he was born, Sarah and I were casually texting about...well, probably any number of random things, but I can assure you none of them were "I AM IN LABOR." She was home. Russ was sleeping off pain killers from a dental procedure. And then the texts stopped with a vague message about heading to the hospital.
I wanted to set up my phone with a special text alert so that I would definitely wake up overnight for any updates from Russ. I was going to be prepared, I was going to be attentive, and I was going to be there for my friends.
I didn't even get a chance to apply the updated text alerts before Russ's message heralding Ben's arrival came through.
 |
| My favorite new siblings! |
So many thoughts that I just can't put into a blog. Some of them I shared with Sarah and Russ, some of them I cried about privately, some of them make me even stronger in my faith that a higher power is looking out for us all.
Ben was born at just the right moment. For the first time in exactly one year, we were finally able to take our first breaths.
 |
| Meeting Ben for the 1st time |
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #6: notfunnotfunnotfun
Day #6: May 3, 2013
"NotfunnotfunnotfunnotfunnotfunNOTFUNNOTFUNNOTFUNnotfunNOTfunNOTfunNOTfun..."
I think you get the picture.
For the most part, May 3, 2013 actually WAS fun. For the most part, I spent it on a beach, reading a favorite classic, actually RELAXING for the first time in months.
For the most part.
But there was one part, one part in which I was positive I was both going to die and SUFFER doing it. That part wasn't fun.
And it was my MOTHER'S fault.
You know, the same mom that I toasted to just a few blogs ago for sharing my birthday in Disney World with me? Yeah, that one.
The woman flat out tried to drown me.
Picture this: We - my sister Tracey, my mom, and I - are in Aruba, enjoying the sun and the sand. It's Aruba. It's paradise. The sun is high, the water is clear, and the sand is warm. But do you think that was enough for my mother? Do you think she could be content just napping in the sun? Do you think she could enjoy letting the waves gently splash against her legs? Do you think she could just let ME read in peace?
The answer is no. No, she could not.
No, MY mother, who doesn't like ANYTHING that moves quickly that isn't a car, who hasn't stuck more than a toe in our pool since the 80's, who doesn't even take showers because she doesn't like water on her head (she washes her hair in the sink), decides that she wants to go on the SUPER MARBLE.
We watched people bounce around the sea for an entire day, figuring she'd change her mind.
She didn't. She wanted to do it, and, because we are obedient children, Tracey and I agreed. Well, not so much agreed. We just didn't feel like there was much of a choice.
Now, there are some things you should know about me if you don't already.
First, I don't like open water. Actually, I have this...thing. With fish. I hate them. I don't like looking at them, I certainly don't like touching them, and I will panic if there's one trying to touch me, even by accident. I don't know what it is, but if I see a fish in the water, I just won't go back in. There have been very rare circumstances that I have been able to overcome this phobia for the sake of snorkeling and tropical adventures, but those are few, very far between, and require extensive therapy afterwards. So that's the first thing. I don't like fish.
The SECOND thing is that I don't like open water. It's because of the fish thing I guess, but I hate not being able to see to the bottom of the water. Even deep pools make me nervous. I saw Jaws when I was little, and I am convinced that shark was living in my pool when I was nine.
The SUPER MARBLE itself is the third problem. It's a giant tube. And it bounces you around the damn water so much, you've got to clutch the damn handles for dear life if you want to survive. Which I did. But I also wanted my $300 Tiffany sunglasses to survive with me.
Yes, fine, it was irresponsible for me to be wearing the damn things, but I felt like it would've been more irresponsible for me to leave them on the beach. Better falling off my face than being on someone else's.
We climbed on to that SUPER MARBLE, Tracey and I on either side of my mother, and it was all fun and games. Until the boat started moving, towing our bouncing death trap behind it. It started off choppy but manageable, like speeding down a highway full of potholes, but then they hit the gas.
And I started alternating between praying and yelling obscenities. I could see my mother's legs flopping all around the surface of the stupid tube. I could hear Tracey hooting and hollering. I felt my sunglasses shifting a little more than I was comfortable with, but I couldn't let go of the tube. I was sure if I loosened my grip on the handle even a little, even if just for a second, I'd be cast away, floating away from Aruba, never to be seen again.
So I just screamed instead. It was NOT fun. I thought maybe if I yelled long enough, they'd slow down or take us back. They did not. The screaming, in fact, seemed to encourage them to go even faster, to take the turns even tighter, to actually aim for the surf with the highest waves.
I'll tell you what I thought. I thought that we were going to hit one of those waves and one of two things was going to fly off that tube: me or my Tiffany sunglasses. And either way, I would've been in the water, because there was no way in hell I'd sacrifice those sunglasses. Once I was in the water, I knew already that that tube would be on top of me, and I'd likely drown or suffocate. Maybe both, one by the other. So yeah. That was for sure going to happen.
It was the longest 15 minutes of my life. I'm not even sure they kept us out there for 15 minutes. It might've been 10 minutes, it might've been six hours, and I'm pretty sure it was closer to A LIFETIME. Maybe two, because I'm SURE I saw my life flash in front of my eyes at least twice.
And "notfun"? Yep, I repeated that a couple hundred times. All I wanted was for them to slow down enough for me to swim back to shore, no matter how far away we were when the boat stopped. Which it eventually did. I checked to make sure my sunglasses were still on my face, ripped off that life jacket, and kneeled to kiss the ground.
Not amused. My mother later said that she didn't get worried until she saw the look on my face and realized there might actually be a chance we were going to die out there.
Meanwhile, she still won't ride Big Thunder Mountain.
It wasn't fun. But it was a memory, and one that we have not hesitated to remind my mother about regularly since it was made. Sometimes people will surprise you.
I think I appreciated every moment of the rest of that trip even more because of the trauma of my mom's choice to surprise us.
"NotfunnotfunnotfunnotfunnotfunNOTFUNNOTFUNNOTFUNnotfunNOTfunNOTfunNOTfun..."
I think you get the picture.
 |
| Calm before the storm |
For the most part.
But there was one part, one part in which I was positive I was both going to die and SUFFER doing it. That part wasn't fun.
And it was my MOTHER'S fault.
You know, the same mom that I toasted to just a few blogs ago for sharing my birthday in Disney World with me? Yeah, that one.
The woman flat out tried to drown me.
Picture this: We - my sister Tracey, my mom, and I - are in Aruba, enjoying the sun and the sand. It's Aruba. It's paradise. The sun is high, the water is clear, and the sand is warm. But do you think that was enough for my mother? Do you think she could be content just napping in the sun? Do you think she could enjoy letting the waves gently splash against her legs? Do you think she could just let ME read in peace?
The answer is no. No, she could not.
No, MY mother, who doesn't like ANYTHING that moves quickly that isn't a car, who hasn't stuck more than a toe in our pool since the 80's, who doesn't even take showers because she doesn't like water on her head (she washes her hair in the sink), decides that she wants to go on the SUPER MARBLE.
We watched people bounce around the sea for an entire day, figuring she'd change her mind.
She didn't. She wanted to do it, and, because we are obedient children, Tracey and I agreed. Well, not so much agreed. We just didn't feel like there was much of a choice.
Now, there are some things you should know about me if you don't already.
First, I don't like open water. Actually, I have this...thing. With fish. I hate them. I don't like looking at them, I certainly don't like touching them, and I will panic if there's one trying to touch me, even by accident. I don't know what it is, but if I see a fish in the water, I just won't go back in. There have been very rare circumstances that I have been able to overcome this phobia for the sake of snorkeling and tropical adventures, but those are few, very far between, and require extensive therapy afterwards. So that's the first thing. I don't like fish.
The SECOND thing is that I don't like open water. It's because of the fish thing I guess, but I hate not being able to see to the bottom of the water. Even deep pools make me nervous. I saw Jaws when I was little, and I am convinced that shark was living in my pool when I was nine.
The SUPER MARBLE itself is the third problem. It's a giant tube. And it bounces you around the damn water so much, you've got to clutch the damn handles for dear life if you want to survive. Which I did. But I also wanted my $300 Tiffany sunglasses to survive with me.
 |
| There's still a chance this ends well. |
We climbed on to that SUPER MARBLE, Tracey and I on either side of my mother, and it was all fun and games. Until the boat started moving, towing our bouncing death trap behind it. It started off choppy but manageable, like speeding down a highway full of potholes, but then they hit the gas.
And I started alternating between praying and yelling obscenities. I could see my mother's legs flopping all around the surface of the stupid tube. I could hear Tracey hooting and hollering. I felt my sunglasses shifting a little more than I was comfortable with, but I couldn't let go of the tube. I was sure if I loosened my grip on the handle even a little, even if just for a second, I'd be cast away, floating away from Aruba, never to be seen again.
So I just screamed instead. It was NOT fun. I thought maybe if I yelled long enough, they'd slow down or take us back. They did not. The screaming, in fact, seemed to encourage them to go even faster, to take the turns even tighter, to actually aim for the surf with the highest waves.
 |
| And then this happened and I almost died. |
It was the longest 15 minutes of my life. I'm not even sure they kept us out there for 15 minutes. It might've been 10 minutes, it might've been six hours, and I'm pretty sure it was closer to A LIFETIME. Maybe two, because I'm SURE I saw my life flash in front of my eyes at least twice.
And "notfun"? Yep, I repeated that a couple hundred times. All I wanted was for them to slow down enough for me to swim back to shore, no matter how far away we were when the boat stopped. Which it eventually did. I checked to make sure my sunglasses were still on my face, ripped off that life jacket, and kneeled to kiss the ground.
Not amused. My mother later said that she didn't get worried until she saw the look on my face and realized there might actually be a chance we were going to die out there.
Meanwhile, she still won't ride Big Thunder Mountain.
It wasn't fun. But it was a memory, and one that we have not hesitated to remind my mother about regularly since it was made. Sometimes people will surprise you.
I think I appreciated every moment of the rest of that trip even more because of the trauma of my mom's choice to surprise us.
 |
| Back to my happy place. |
Monday, December 23, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #5: Celebrate Good Times
Day #5: April 6, 2013
I did a lot of celebratin' this year. Not just the annual things, but there were graduations, and awards, and promotions, and weddings and babies. Is this what it's like to be in your 30's?
Yes. The answer is yes, this is what it's like. Hallmark exists because people between 25 and 40 have a lot to celebrate, and there's a card for every occassion.
This spring was especially full of "occassions," when it seemed like I was double booked for festivities more often than not. It's a good problem to have, but it's quite a day when you start your morning gushing over tiny baby socks and enjoying finger sandwiches with your pregnant friend and end the evening at a Prom from the 80's screaming the lyrics to "Love Shack" while dressed like Clarissa Darling and wearing a fanny pack.
Yep. That happened. And I loved that day for all the people in it.
April 6th isn't on my list because it made any great change in me but because it was so much fun to be part of both celebrations.
Just a couple of weeks after Kelly's beautiful baby shower, we welcomed Jackson into our world. His pre-arrival party was a classy affair put together with all the love the ladies in his life could shower him with, and I think he's got a lifetime of spoiling ahead.
Meanwhile, at Lindsay's Bachelorette Party, we ventured to NYC as a group of 80's queens (Prom, not Drag). Well, ok, truth be told, we didn't push the limits of practicality too far (I literally had a fanny pack for cripes sake), but that's why I love my friends. We had a family dinner, we went to an (AWESOME!) 80's Prom, and then we closed out the night with the best tater tots you've ever put in your mouth.
No one got arrested, no one got roofied, and no one got a tattoo (I think...). They won't make a movie about us (but, I mean, they SHOULD, and might I suggest Tina Fey and Amy Poehler to be cast as Lindsay and me?), but you probably wish you were there anyway.
Tin roof. RUSTED.
I did a lot of celebratin' this year. Not just the annual things, but there were graduations, and awards, and promotions, and weddings and babies. Is this what it's like to be in your 30's?
Yes. The answer is yes, this is what it's like. Hallmark exists because people between 25 and 40 have a lot to celebrate, and there's a card for every occassion.
This spring was especially full of "occassions," when it seemed like I was double booked for festivities more often than not. It's a good problem to have, but it's quite a day when you start your morning gushing over tiny baby socks and enjoying finger sandwiches with your pregnant friend and end the evening at a Prom from the 80's screaming the lyrics to "Love Shack" while dressed like Clarissa Darling and wearing a fanny pack.
Yep. That happened. And I loved that day for all the people in it.
 |
| My fanny pack broke. It was sad. Like, literally. Look at that frown. |
 |
| Started the day looking presentable. |
Just a couple of weeks after Kelly's beautiful baby shower, we welcomed Jackson into our world. His pre-arrival party was a classy affair put together with all the love the ladies in his life could shower him with, and I think he's got a lifetime of spoiling ahead.
 |
| Ended the day looking like Nickelodeon. |
Meanwhile, at Lindsay's Bachelorette Party, we ventured to NYC as a group of 80's queens (Prom, not Drag). Well, ok, truth be told, we didn't push the limits of practicality too far (I literally had a fanny pack for cripes sake), but that's why I love my friends. We had a family dinner, we went to an (AWESOME!) 80's Prom, and then we closed out the night with the best tater tots you've ever put in your mouth.
No one got arrested, no one got roofied, and no one got a tattoo (I think...). They won't make a movie about us (but, I mean, they SHOULD, and might I suggest Tina Fey and Amy Poehler to be cast as Lindsay and me?), but you probably wish you were there anyway.
Tin roof. RUSTED.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #4: One Step At A Time
Day #4: March 23, 2013
Most of my "top days" are really happy ones. As much as I complain on a daily basis, and as many things as I'd like to change, in general, I'm pretty content with life. The fact that I had so many top days to choose from while making this list made it very, VERY clear how lucky I am.
But it's not the soft things that help you grow. The hard times are the ones that change you the most, that give you a reason to change.
In 2012, particularly here in Connecticut, we were all tested by the unfathomable tragedy at Sandy Hook. The reminders remain almost as prevalent as they were a year ago, but I find myself now thinking of those angels even more when something positive happens, not only when the news blares another nightmare.
There was nothing I could do last December. There was so little any of us could do. It wasn't my place to put myself in anyone else's shoes or try to install myself in our neighboring community and intrude on their experience.
So I stayed in my own shoes. And I did something I do NOT do.
I ran.
Last March, I ran for a lot of reasons, all of them listed in my blog, "Why I Run."
I never posted an update after the race, and I'm sure some people wondered if I ever finished. I did finish. Not with any sort of impressive time, but I was upright (mostly), and it was 100% worth it.
I'm glad it took me a while. I'm glad I felt the pain in my chest as the cold air cycled in and out. I felt that pain, and I knew I was alive. And damn it, I deserved to feel that pain as a reminder of why I was moving with that herd of people in the first place. I'm glad I walked part of it, going slow enough to notice the birds overhead. I had vowed that I would remember that moment. I'm even glad it snowed. I always feel pretty good about slowing everything down for the snow.
The Sandy Hook Run was my first official run, the first time I crossed a finish line painted with something other than chalk or neighborhood markers like "that big rock over there". That was the change in me. I still don't like running, but that race has made me "a runner." All I needed was a reason to push my own limits, kick my own ass, and also stop to take a breath once in a while.
And I guess that's how we're all moving forward, bearing the weight of whatever it is we have to overcome. You can't get there in one stride, but you have to keep moving. One step at a time.
Most of my "top days" are really happy ones. As much as I complain on a daily basis, and as many things as I'd like to change, in general, I'm pretty content with life. The fact that I had so many top days to choose from while making this list made it very, VERY clear how lucky I am.
But it's not the soft things that help you grow. The hard times are the ones that change you the most, that give you a reason to change.
In 2012, particularly here in Connecticut, we were all tested by the unfathomable tragedy at Sandy Hook. The reminders remain almost as prevalent as they were a year ago, but I find myself now thinking of those angels even more when something positive happens, not only when the news blares another nightmare.
There was nothing I could do last December. There was so little any of us could do. It wasn't my place to put myself in anyone else's shoes or try to install myself in our neighboring community and intrude on their experience.
So I stayed in my own shoes. And I did something I do NOT do.
I ran.
Last March, I ran for a lot of reasons, all of them listed in my blog, "Why I Run."
I never posted an update after the race, and I'm sure some people wondered if I ever finished. I did finish. Not with any sort of impressive time, but I was upright (mostly), and it was 100% worth it.
I'm glad it took me a while. I'm glad I felt the pain in my chest as the cold air cycled in and out. I felt that pain, and I knew I was alive. And damn it, I deserved to feel that pain as a reminder of why I was moving with that herd of people in the first place. I'm glad I walked part of it, going slow enough to notice the birds overhead. I had vowed that I would remember that moment. I'm even glad it snowed. I always feel pretty good about slowing everything down for the snow.
The Sandy Hook Run was my first official run, the first time I crossed a finish line painted with something other than chalk or neighborhood markers like "that big rock over there". That was the change in me. I still don't like running, but that race has made me "a runner." All I needed was a reason to push my own limits, kick my own ass, and also stop to take a breath once in a while.
And I guess that's how we're all moving forward, bearing the weight of whatever it is we have to overcome. You can't get there in one stride, but you have to keep moving. One step at a time.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #3: Champagne Birthday
Day #3: March 3, 2013
Do you know about "Champagne Birthdays"? Some people call them "Grand" or "Golden", but for me...it's all about the bubbly. Your Champagne Birthday falls on the day you turn the same age as your birthday - my birthday is the 3rd, for example, so my Champagne Birthday happened when I turned three. Long before I could actually celebrate with champagne, of course.
Seems to me that most people probably can't recall more than half their birthdays before they turned 10. Since my memories of that era of my life are written by faded photos in lost albums and stories flavored by the interests of the people telling them (for instance, my mother allowing me to be nearly kidnapped after my sister threw hot cocoa at me at a McDonald's in New Jersey...but that's another blog entirely), I feel like I got gypped by my original Champagne Birthday three decades ago.
Those of us with single digit Champagne Birthdays deserve better, so I propose that the day you turn your FULL birthday, you get a chance to celebrate something extra. A Champagne Clause, if you will. January 5th, for example, means you get to re-celebrate your Champagne Birthday when you turn 15. Still can't toast with actual champagne of course, but at least this time you'll remember it.
This
year was my Champagne Birthday - I turned 33 on 3/3. Ironically, I
celebrated the day the same way lots of actual 3-year-olds probably did:
At Disney World with my mom.
I did, however, get to do something those birthday girls didn't: I enjoyed my first ever toast of champagne inside the Magic Kingdom!
Traditionally, there's never been alcohol served in the park. Not until Beast welcomed us into his Castle nestled in the mountains of New Fantasyland has a guest been offered a wine list, and that seemed like a perfect reason to celebrate there.
It
was a short trip, but it was a perfect party. Watching Wishes - my
absolute favorite thing in all of Disney World - a bundle of at least 20
Mickey balloons was released into the sky. I mean, they weren't for me
(or WERE they?!?), but the deliberate timing convinced me those balloons
were something special to someone (and I hope the special meaning
wasn't "unemployed" to a careless Cast Member). I got a surprise
serenade from Mickey and Minnie, and it was absolutely freezing the
entire weekend. There were even reports of flurries in Orlando the
morning of my birthday.
But
dinner? Dinner was special. As you already know, I'm a frequent Disney
visitor, and, while we can always find something different to do,
entirely brand NEW experiences are a different kind of exciting.
Taking our seats in the ballroom the night of my birthday was one of
those experiences.
I won't ruin it if you haven't been there, and I won't bore you if you don't "get it", but Be Our Guest dining is an amazing experience. From the snow on the balcony "outside" to the chandeliers on the ceiling, Imagineers could not have done more to make you feel as though you've snuck into the Beast's ballroom. Did my eyes sweat the first time I walked in (and...every time since)? Yes. Don't act like you're surprised.
I
had my champagne, and I enjoyed my steak, and then? I got to try the
grey stuff. This was before they added it to the menu, when the grey
stuff was reserved for celebrations, and I had no idea what to expect.
Fun fact: It IS delicious.
It made me happy. All of it. My mom and I don't typically travel without one or both of my sisters, so the fact that she was sharing it with me was a brand new experience, and it came at a time when I needed to be away from everything more than anything else.
So a toast, to my Champagne Birthday, and to my mom for sharing it with me.
Do you know about "Champagne Birthdays"? Some people call them "Grand" or "Golden", but for me...it's all about the bubbly. Your Champagne Birthday falls on the day you turn the same age as your birthday - my birthday is the 3rd, for example, so my Champagne Birthday happened when I turned three. Long before I could actually celebrate with champagne, of course.
Seems to me that most people probably can't recall more than half their birthdays before they turned 10. Since my memories of that era of my life are written by faded photos in lost albums and stories flavored by the interests of the people telling them (for instance, my mother allowing me to be nearly kidnapped after my sister threw hot cocoa at me at a McDonald's in New Jersey...but that's another blog entirely), I feel like I got gypped by my original Champagne Birthday three decades ago.
Those of us with single digit Champagne Birthdays deserve better, so I propose that the day you turn your FULL birthday, you get a chance to celebrate something extra. A Champagne Clause, if you will. January 5th, for example, means you get to re-celebrate your Champagne Birthday when you turn 15. Still can't toast with actual champagne of course, but at least this time you'll remember it.
This
year was my Champagne Birthday - I turned 33 on 3/3. Ironically, I
celebrated the day the same way lots of actual 3-year-olds probably did:
At Disney World with my mom.I did, however, get to do something those birthday girls didn't: I enjoyed my first ever toast of champagne inside the Magic Kingdom!
Traditionally, there's never been alcohol served in the park. Not until Beast welcomed us into his Castle nestled in the mountains of New Fantasyland has a guest been offered a wine list, and that seemed like a perfect reason to celebrate there.
 |
| Mickey balloons become part of the finale |
 |
| Be Our Guest |
I won't ruin it if you haven't been there, and I won't bore you if you don't "get it", but Be Our Guest dining is an amazing experience. From the snow on the balcony "outside" to the chandeliers on the ceiling, Imagineers could not have done more to make you feel as though you've snuck into the Beast's ballroom. Did my eyes sweat the first time I walked in (and...every time since)? Yes. Don't act like you're surprised.
I
had my champagne, and I enjoyed my steak, and then? I got to try the
grey stuff. This was before they added it to the menu, when the grey
stuff was reserved for celebrations, and I had no idea what to expect.
Fun fact: It IS delicious.
It made me happy. All of it. My mom and I don't typically travel without one or both of my sisters, so the fact that she was sharing it with me was a brand new experience, and it came at a time when I needed to be away from everything more than anything else.
So a toast, to my Champagne Birthday, and to my mom for sharing it with me.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #2: The Sweetest Thing
Day #2: February 15, 2013
By the time they're my age, most people have either identified which highway they want to take in life or pulled off to a side road that they're at least comfortable driving on, even if it wasn't exactly where they intended to end up.
I'm not most people. I remember feeling anxious when we had to write about what we wanted to be when we grew up, and now that I've physically "grown up," I've got a warning for the next generation of kids who don't really know how to answer the question: You may never know.
Or, it might take a series of "top days" for you to accept that the anxious feeling isn't because you DON'T know what you want to be but, instead, because you DO know.
For me, the first in my series came the day after Valentine's Day with a short phone call about a candy shop. Some of you may recall the story of Seashore Sweets', as I have previously chronicled my encounter with a member of Team Disney here so I won't go through the details again, but honestly?
It was a pretty damn cool phone call to get.
It hasn't led to anything more (yet), but it did spark enough in me to make me wonder if, just maybe, I COULD be part of the storytelling happening at Disney, part of the legacy that is committed to telling every piece of the tale. Nothing is coincidence, everything has an explanation, and if you can just ask the right person, you're going to hear it all.
This was the first piece of, what I hope will be, the rest of my story.
I'm not most people. I remember feeling anxious when we had to write about what we wanted to be when we grew up, and now that I've physically "grown up," I've got a warning for the next generation of kids who don't really know how to answer the question: You may never know.
Or, it might take a series of "top days" for you to accept that the anxious feeling isn't because you DON'T know what you want to be but, instead, because you DO know.
For me, the first in my series came the day after Valentine's Day with a short phone call about a candy shop. Some of you may recall the story of Seashore Sweets', as I have previously chronicled my encounter with a member of Team Disney here so I won't go through the details again, but honestly?
It was a pretty damn cool phone call to get.
It hasn't led to anything more (yet), but it did spark enough in me to make me wonder if, just maybe, I COULD be part of the storytelling happening at Disney, part of the legacy that is committed to telling every piece of the tale. Nothing is coincidence, everything has an explanation, and if you can just ask the right person, you're going to hear it all.
This was the first piece of, what I hope will be, the rest of my story.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Top 13 of 2013, Day #1: Finding Nemo
Day #1: February 10, 2013
I've lived in Connecticut my entire life. I've seen lots of snow. I've met snowmen taller than me, I've fallen into fresh snow that reached nearly to my waist, I've spent hours ignoring the frost on my fingers because I just had to stay outside.
WHEN I WAS A CHILD.
The
snow is always a lot deeper when you're only a a few feet tall
yourself, so when it happens as an adult, it's a lot more significant.
Larger than life snowmen, snowbanks that blanket your house, and hours
of shoveling just to get to your mailbox - that was the Blizzard of
2013.
Winter Storm Nemo was significant.
It was so significant, in fact, that my MOTHER picked up a shovel. She doesn't do winter snow removal regularly, but my dad wasn't feeling well, and the plows weren't coming, and damn it! after three days stuck in the house with us, there was no way in hell she was getting marooned there forever.
The shovel didn't help much at first. The snowblower was available, but it's just the kind of heavy machinery that neither my mom nor I should ever be allowed to operate. I actually wondered if it would be faster to just wait for July to come, but we dug out eventually. We even shoveled the roof. (Admittedly, this feat wasn't all that impressive when you consider that the drifts made the distance between ground and roof considerably shorter, but we also approached it from the deck.)
In the end, I believe we spent four days cut off from all humanity. We never lost electricity. Our cupboards were not bare. The DVR had plenty of shows to catch up on.
It won't be long before people start doubting just how significant the storm was. People will naturally begin exaggerating, and the truth of our 40 inches will be melted by claims of six feet or more. Our four days of wilderness (and the pioneer weeks that followed, in which our street became one narrow tunnel) will be bested by those who were without contact for weeks on end. But I won't forget how significant it was. I know it was a big deal, and no snowfall totals can compare to the simple way that I knew this storm was different:
Because my mother picked up a shovel.
I've lived in Connecticut my entire life. I've seen lots of snow. I've met snowmen taller than me, I've fallen into fresh snow that reached nearly to my waist, I've spent hours ignoring the frost on my fingers because I just had to stay outside.
WHEN I WAS A CHILD.
 |
| Front door snow drift. Literally taller than me. |
Winter Storm Nemo was significant.
It was so significant, in fact, that my MOTHER picked up a shovel. She doesn't do winter snow removal regularly, but my dad wasn't feeling well, and the plows weren't coming, and damn it! after three days stuck in the house with us, there was no way in hell she was getting marooned there forever.
 |
| The end of the driveway...and beginning of an unplowed street. |
The shovel didn't help much at first. The snowblower was available, but it's just the kind of heavy machinery that neither my mom nor I should ever be allowed to operate. I actually wondered if it would be faster to just wait for July to come, but we dug out eventually. We even shoveled the roof. (Admittedly, this feat wasn't all that impressive when you consider that the drifts made the distance between ground and roof considerably shorter, but we also approached it from the deck.)
 | |
| Mailbox: the only clue as to where the yard began. |
In the end, I believe we spent four days cut off from all humanity. We never lost electricity. Our cupboards were not bare. The DVR had plenty of shows to catch up on.
It won't be long before people start doubting just how significant the storm was. People will naturally begin exaggerating, and the truth of our 40 inches will be melted by claims of six feet or more. Our four days of wilderness (and the pioneer weeks that followed, in which our street became one narrow tunnel) will be bested by those who were without contact for weeks on end. But I won't forget how significant it was. I know it was a big deal, and no snowfall totals can compare to the simple way that I knew this storm was different:
Because my mother picked up a shovel.
 |
| While my mom shoveled, I built a snowman. |
Friday, August 30, 2013
Dreamaversary: Cinderella Castle Suite Visit
There are some days in your life that you remember. Your
clothes, the weather, what you had for lunch – the memories of those days are
permanently etched not only in your head, but in your heart as well. I’ve been
fortunate enough to have a few of those good days, those unbelievable
experiences that, even in my memory, seem impossible.
Saturday, August 31st, marks the 5th
anniversary of one of those days – my “Dreamaversary.” I’ve been asked often
about my visit to the Cinderella Castle Suite because I can’t imagine anyone –
old or young, boy or girl, believer or not – has ever stared down Main Street
at those glimmering spires and not wondered what it would be like inside
Cinderella Castle. Maybe you haven’t wished for it as often as I have, but you
must’ve wondered…right?
The Year of a Million Dreams – 2008 – was the year that wish
came true. Here’s the short version of how it came about: I was on my lunch
break at work and saw an invitation from Disney to visit the suite, which was
to take place just a couple of weeks after that day. I immediately told my
Disney family (some related by blood, some related by pixie dust) about the
event, never believing we’d hop on a plane and actually GO. There were all
kinds of reasons not to.
But we did. Because there was one major reason we HAD to:
when you wait your whole life for something magical to happen, you don’t make
excuses. You make magic.
Literally, within the span of our lunch break, plans were
confirmed for me to join Lisa and Molly, my pixie dust family, as we celebrated
Molly’s 9th birthday with a visit to the most exclusive hotel room
on Disney property.
Molly didn’t know about any of it. She jumped in the car
after her first day of school thinking she was joining her mom for a boring
ride that MIGHT end with ice cream for dinner. A few hours later, there was a
palm tree outside her window.
We didn’t tell her about the Castle Suite either. Now, to be
fair, I guess I was more excited about it than she was – I mean, I HAD waited
almost 20 years longer to see it – but surprising her was special for me as
well. I’m sure she didn’t know what to make of the “royal decree” and tiny
skeleton key presented to her with her birthday dessert at Prime Time Café, but
I still have my key in a special treasure box with the badge we wore during our
tour.
The first thing you should know about the Cinderella Castle
Suite is that you’ve probably passed by the entrance a thousand times without
realizing it. To this day, every time I walk through the Castle, I pause for a moment
at the door with the giant “C,” hoping it’ll creak open and I’ll be whisked
inside.
I never have been, but I’ll keep hoping.
Inside, there is a tiny room with a tiny desk and a giant
clock and a mirror. That’s where the suite’s concierge waited to respond to any
request a guest might have. Sure, you’re pretty much a prisoner because you
can’t leave without permission (seems a bit more like Rapunzel than Cinderella,
doesn’t it?) but on the other hand – WHO WOULD EVER WANT TO LEAVE?
One of my favorite details in the suite is the clock in this
foyer, with its hands magically poised at 11:59, just on the cusp of midnight,
where the magic will never end.
I was an adult when we were invited to that suite. I am
fully aware that the artifacts displayed – you know, Cinderella’s crown,
scepter and, of course, that glass slipper that changed everything – are props.
I know that the Suite was a utility closet prior to 2008 and not the guest room
of a timeless fairy tale. I understand that the windows that look out over
Fantasyland are frosted not because they’re medieval glass, but to hide the
maintenance happening outside the suite while guests sleep upstairs.
I get all of that. But I still felt like a 6-year-old as we
rode that elevator decorated with gorgeous gold-accented mosaics, and I was a
totally enamored invited guest of Cinderella. That little cinder girl did
pretty well for herself.
I remember the bedroom feeling smaller than I had expected,
possibly because the regal headboards on the beds seemed so gigantic. Everyone
was excited about the bathroom, with the amazing starry ceiling and beautiful
tile work throughout, and, yes, the details in it (and the lights changing
color in the Jacuzzi!) made it the coolest bathroom I had ever been in, but for
me? It was the sitting room that really took my breath away.
Someone once told me, looking at my photos, that the sitting
room resembled what she imagined the Gryffindor Common Room at Hogwarts would
look like. I can see that. It’s the room with the best view to the outside,
which also makes it the room I can stare up into from the Magic Kingdom below.
I know that if I ever visited the suite again, that’s the place I’d spend most
of my time.
When we left the suite, I remember calling home to tell my
family how amazing it was to step into a fairy tale. I also remember literally
erupting in tears as I tried to tell the story, standing in the breezeway
outside that door crested with a C. It happens a lot to me in Disney World –
the littlest thing can make my eyes sweat – and I remember Lisa taking a
picture of me as it happened. And then she told me we would get to go up again,
so that we’d have a chance to see it at night as well.
Sooooo…yeah, something got in my eye at that point too.
We watched Wishes that night, from my favorite spot on Main
Street. I call it my “wishing spot,” but I didn’t make a wish that night. I
didn’t need to.
I have bigger things to accomplish in life than visiting a
well-decorated room in a Disney theme park. I have more to do than that, bigger
dreams, more important wishes. But that night, standing on Main Street with
Molly and Lisa, I felt both satisfied and invincible. Satisfied because a wish
had come true, and invincible for the same reason.
That day fulfilled a dream that a much younger me cooked up
without realizing it was implausible. There wasn’t even a suite to visit when I
made that wish more than two decades ago. And that just makes anything else
seem possible.
Molly started high school this week, which seems like a lifetime
away from that surprise trip we took only five years ago. She’s still a great
kid, she still loves Disney World, and I hope she still knows that wishes CAN
come true.
She should know. She was a witness to one of mine, and I
hope I can be there for a lifetime of hers.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Here we go-o-o-o-o
“Sirius is saying that nsync is going to appear on the vmas.”
That’s how all of this started. One text, and the entire context of my day…nope, week…hell, LIFE has changed.
My boys are back.
It’s not a secret that when I took my *NSYNC vows fifteen years ago, I meant them. The past few days have been nostalgic for a lot of people who have revisited their lives and mindsets circa the turn of the millennium, sharing the ways that *NSYNC sculpted their childhoods, their high school dances, their college years.
I love it. It’s given me a chance to tell stories that no one has wanted to hear for ten years. Tales of roadtrips, and lucky chances, and some of the luck that we made ourselves.
Life has changed for all of us since the last time we saw *NSYNC on a stage together, and even more since we first heard them sing. We’ve all loved, we’ve all lost, we’ve all experienced some of the best and worst the world has to offer.
I delved into my boyband treasure chest (it is definitely a real thing) for some perspective about how my life (and yours) has changed since *NSYNC came into it.
 | |
| My first blog EVER - Teen People Online |
The internet? Yeah, it was probably AOL, it was probably dial up, and if your mom picked up the phone to call your aunt? You were probably getting disconnected. Web pages looked like this (except in color…because back in 1999, our printer did NOT have that expensive color ink.)
Here’s our digital camera circa 2000. It holds a 3.5" floppy disk, to give you an idea of how large it is.
We never used it for *NSYNC it because the memory “stick” held about four pictures, at a quality of a whopping 1.6 megapixels!
So we shot regular film at every concert, which meant some pictures looked like this:
But most of them were more like this:
Not only did it cost a fortune, but you had no idea if any of your pictures were any good until three days later.
Here’s my adorable cell phone. Not from 2003…this was a phone from the FUTURE. My 2003 phone is on loan to the Smithsonian. So we all get the picture of what my 2003 cell phone looked like. Or, rather, we don't. Because my phone definitely didn't have a camera back then. On the bright side (no pun intended), we also didn't have thousands of screens lighting up the venue back then.
I have an iPhone now. It's also my digital camera.
This was how we DVR’d things. And there was no YouTube or streaming, so if you forgot to set your tape? Or someone changed the channel after you set it? NO TRL FOR YOU!
I tried watching some of them two nights ago. It infuriated me that I couldn't skip to the next chapter. Definitely need to transfer these bad boys to DVD soon.
 |
Speaking of which, this is the first DVD I ever owned, and I bought it in 1998 not because we had a DVD player (we didn’t), but because our new GATEWAY COMPUTER (you know, in the cow box?) had one.
 |
| The Music of My Heart |
It took about three days to download a song over the internet, so all the music I bought came packaged like this. I still have all these cds, in alphabetical order when they're not in a pile on my floor, because every time I migrate to the latest ipod, my *NSYNC playlists have to come with me, and iTunes has a habit of losing precious cargo.
"Some Dreams," for example. The b-side of a 1997 single released exclusively in Germany.
You can't find that in the iTunes store.
If you wanted to be the first on your block to hear Bye Bye Bye from an actual cd instead of just the radio? You better be sleeping outside FYE when it opened at midnight. And we did.
Lots of us wanted to be the first, as over ONE MILLION copies of the cd sold that first day, and another million that firstweek. It’s a record that still stands today, so SUCK IT BACKSTREET. (Sorry…sorry, that was 2000 Kylene talking. We love you BSB fans, and yes, *NSYNC's numbers are domestic while BSB kills them worldwide, so let's just call it even, shall we?)
Here's a fun fact. MySpace was founded in 2003. Facebook didn’t even come into existence until a year later, and it would be a few more years before social media would change our landscape of connections. Tonight? I will be live tweeting the hell out of this reunion with my closest *NSYNC friends, and we’ll all be in different states sharing the moment instantly. "Digital Getdown", indeed.
Back in 2003, MySpace made me choose a Top 8. If I made a Top 8 of 2013, I'd see exactly one person who would’ve made the list in 2003. Four of the people on my list would be complete strangers back then. And the remaining three? We didn’t talk much ten years ago, but I don’t go a day without talking to them now. Of those people in my 2013 Top 8, there have been six marriages, eleven babies, and two green cards since *NSYNC went on hiatus.
The funny thing is, even though a lot of changes have been technology the same way any decade will see those things evolve, the ones that really hit you are the changes in lives. The graduations, the marriages, the babies, the moves, the jobs. And I think that’s why everyone is so excited about this reunion. It’s a chance for all of us to revisit the times in our lives when the most important thing in the world was being the first person on your block to hold No Strings Attached.
You're all we ever wanted. You're all we ever needed. Thanks for coming back, *NSYNC.
 |
| With Love, Ky Ky Ky |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)