I found this photo essay by Romain Blanquart on the Cup of Jo blog. I thought it was so amazing that everyone should see it. Go to the site for the complete essay.
4.22.2009
Happy Earth Day
I think Chicago decided to honor Earth Day with beautiful weather.
While I am the first to admit that I am not particularly an outdoorsy person, I decided a while ago that I would try to be more "green." I don't drive, I take public transportation or carpool whenever I can; I recycle at home and if I'm in public with no recycle bin, I bring the bottle home; I take reusable bags to all stores with me... I know these sound like little efforts but I think it really will make a difference.
I even recently bought a new laptop that is Energy Star certified. When I have my own home, I will definitely make sure all of my appliances also have the Energy Star label. Green is my favorite color, I might as well "Go Green" too.
4.20.2009
Stuck in the Middle
I just read a blog post on the Glamour site: "Did You Ever Wonder If Your Parents Had a Secret Favorite?" It made me think. Overall, my parents did a great job making my two sisters and I just as loved as the other ones.
But growing up, I think my sisters (one older, one younger) got more attention than I did. I blame the fact that I was always the responsible, quiet one that always did well in school and never got in trouble.
I'm glad that I am more independent than my sisters but it's sad that it seemed like I had to get in trouble to get more attention. Birth order is supposed to say a lot about the person you are. My old roommate wrote a report in college on birth order and the middle of three girls is supposed to be the hardest.
But growing up, I think my sisters (one older, one younger) got more attention than I did. I blame the fact that I was always the responsible, quiet one that always did well in school and never got in trouble.
I'm glad that I am more independent than my sisters but it's sad that it seemed like I had to get in trouble to get more attention. Birth order is supposed to say a lot about the person you are. My old roommate wrote a report in college on birth order and the middle of three girls is supposed to be the hardest.
4.19.2009
WANTED
I've been reading CraigsList a lot lately. No reason really. Don't you wish you could just fill out Wanted Ad for everything in life?
WANTED A fantastic career as an interactive web producer for a major metropolitan newspaper, preferably in a warm climate.
WANTED A nice boyfriend. Tall. Dark. Handsome.
WANTED A fantastic career as an interactive web producer for a major metropolitan newspaper, preferably in a warm climate.
WANTED A nice boyfriend. Tall. Dark. Handsome.
4.13.2009
I Heart My Big Family
I have a big family. A very big family. I love it.
On my mom's side, I have 9 aunts and uncles and 11 cousins; on my dad's side, I have one uncle; on my stepdad's side, I have 15 aunts and uncles and 23 cousins; and I'm pretty close with all of my parents' cousins and their kids. Like I said, LARGE family.
I think having a big family is great, I always had someone to play with growing up. Some of my best memories are of playing kickball or hanging out at family parties. I grew up with some of my cousins as my best friends, and some still are.
The only bad part about a big family is how hard it can be to keep up with everyone, especially since I have family on both coasts and everywhere in between. But I'd rather spend hours on the phone and sending emails than have a small family.
On my mom's side, I have 9 aunts and uncles and 11 cousins; on my dad's side, I have one uncle; on my stepdad's side, I have 15 aunts and uncles and 23 cousins; and I'm pretty close with all of my parents' cousins and their kids. Like I said, LARGE family.
I think having a big family is great, I always had someone to play with growing up. Some of my best memories are of playing kickball or hanging out at family parties. I grew up with some of my cousins as my best friends, and some still are.
The only bad part about a big family is how hard it can be to keep up with everyone, especially since I have family on both coasts and everywhere in between. But I'd rather spend hours on the phone and sending emails than have a small family.
4.12.2009
Easter Eggs and Family Parties
I had a great Easter weekend with family, it was great to get almost everyone together. I have such a big family that can get tough.
I brought my new camera to take pictures of family. My favorite photo is of my cousin Maxwell playing with binoculars outside.
I brought my new camera to take pictures of family. My favorite photo is of my cousin Maxwell playing with binoculars outside.
4.07.2009
Charming Titles
I love how eloquent it sounds when you refer to people by title... Mr., Miss, Ms., Mrs. Do you have to be a teacher to do that?
I think I'm going to start doing that on a daily basis.
I think I'm going to start doing that on a daily basis.
Le Vin Rouge
I’ve been listening to French music lately when I write. I really enjoy it, I feel that it makes ideas flow more, but it makes me crave a glass of wine. I started drinking wine about a year ago. So far I’ve mostly stuck with White Zinfandels or Pinot Noirs but I recently tried a couple Merlots and a Cabernet Sauvignons that I really like. Wine also makes me feel more sophisticated, don’t hate that.
{photo via Flickr Arlo Bates}
4.06.2009
Baseball Season's Underway...
... Well you better get ready for a brand new day. Hey, Chicago, what do you say?? The Cubs are gonna win today!
Baseball has to be my favorite sport ever, and the Cubs my favorite team. I always get antsy for the season to start and so excited when it finally does. I just don't think that there are many things that can top baseball in the summer.
Go, Cubs Go!
Baseball has to be my favorite sport ever, and the Cubs my favorite team. I always get antsy for the season to start and so excited when it finally does. I just don't think that there are many things that can top baseball in the summer.
Go, Cubs Go!
4.02.2009
A Memory
We probably should have brought Charlie to the doctor, but my aunt, being the head nurse at an emergency room in Kenosha, decided there was not enough blood to cause much concern. There never was.
Somewhere in her thirty years at the hospital she lost compassion for minor injuries.
Looking back, I’m pretty sure if they were third-degree burns, we would have taken him to the doctor.
Family vacations on Washington Island revolved around fireworks. We would relax until it was time to light fireworks, then after the fireworks we’d sit back and relax until it was time to light them again.
From sparklers and bottle rockets, to fountains and Roman Candles, to large rockets and mortars; we lit them all.
People from across the small island would come to Jackson Harbor to watch our fireworks displays, eliciting more excitement than the island’s civic show.
Every year was different. Some of our shows were brighter, some more colorful, some more exciting, and some more dangerous.
The darkness settled around us, our reflections no longer visible on the lake. It was time. This is what I waited impatiently for all year.
The fuse fizzled and ignited the fireworks sending sparks upward, creating an echoing boom as the mortar exploded like nearby thunder following colorful lightening.
Charlie grinned at the crowds approving cheers.
As the cinders and ash faded and drifted to the ground, Charlie leapt to the makeshift altar of rocks to light his prized piece, which was to be the climax of the night. A mammoth firework eight inches in diameter, ten inches in height, wrapped in colorful paper with a dozen connecting fuses that could be felt through the tissue-like paper.
He almost needed help carrying the explosive to the rocks, its weight rivaling that of a small child, a sign that it would not disappoint.
“Hey, the fuse on your big fancy firework went out. What a dud,” snidely remarked Andy, Charlie’s slightly younger sibling, brotherly rivalry making yet another appearance.
“So what, I’ll just relight it,” Charlie answered.
The screams from his throat were almost as explosive as the sparks shooting from the enormous mortar on the beach.
The fuse hadn’t gone out. It erupted as Charlie stepped closer to investigate and showered his arms with beautifully colored glowing embers. Which, by the sound of Charlie’s piercing screams, were much more painful than beautiful.
“Oh come over here, let me look at that,” said my Auntie Dee, or Auntie Sparkles as my younger sister called her due to her love of fireworks. I think I’m related to pyromaniacs, but that’s fine by me.
“Oh, that doesn’t seem very serious to me,” she assessed with less concern as a mother than a trained nurse.
“It hurts, it hurts,” said Charlie as he waved his arm in the air as though hoping the pain would fly away with the ash.
“Put some ice on it and sit down, it will be fine. I’ve seen much worse,” said Auntie Dee.
“Well,” said my Uncle Mike sarcastically. “In thirty years in an emergency room, you’re bound to see something worse.” True, which is probably why anything less than bone jutting through torn flesh was considered a “minor accident” to my aunt.
Auntie Dee bandaged his arm with the meticulousness of a baker decorating a wedding cake and sat back down to watch the rest of the fireworks display.
Charlie reluctantly grabbed a cold pop, rested it on his bandaged arm and sat down on a bench, a little farther from the fireworks than the rest of us. His nervousness showing through the smile he managed to fake as we questioned his condition.
We all knew he was done with lighting fireworks, at least for the night.
Somewhere in her thirty years at the hospital she lost compassion for minor injuries.
Looking back, I’m pretty sure if they were third-degree burns, we would have taken him to the doctor.
Family vacations on Washington Island revolved around fireworks. We would relax until it was time to light fireworks, then after the fireworks we’d sit back and relax until it was time to light them again.
From sparklers and bottle rockets, to fountains and Roman Candles, to large rockets and mortars; we lit them all.
People from across the small island would come to Jackson Harbor to watch our fireworks displays, eliciting more excitement than the island’s civic show.
Every year was different. Some of our shows were brighter, some more colorful, some more exciting, and some more dangerous.
The darkness settled around us, our reflections no longer visible on the lake. It was time. This is what I waited impatiently for all year.
The fuse fizzled and ignited the fireworks sending sparks upward, creating an echoing boom as the mortar exploded like nearby thunder following colorful lightening.
Charlie grinned at the crowds approving cheers.
As the cinders and ash faded and drifted to the ground, Charlie leapt to the makeshift altar of rocks to light his prized piece, which was to be the climax of the night. A mammoth firework eight inches in diameter, ten inches in height, wrapped in colorful paper with a dozen connecting fuses that could be felt through the tissue-like paper.
He almost needed help carrying the explosive to the rocks, its weight rivaling that of a small child, a sign that it would not disappoint.
“Hey, the fuse on your big fancy firework went out. What a dud,” snidely remarked Andy, Charlie’s slightly younger sibling, brotherly rivalry making yet another appearance.
“So what, I’ll just relight it,” Charlie answered.
The screams from his throat were almost as explosive as the sparks shooting from the enormous mortar on the beach.
The fuse hadn’t gone out. It erupted as Charlie stepped closer to investigate and showered his arms with beautifully colored glowing embers. Which, by the sound of Charlie’s piercing screams, were much more painful than beautiful.
“Oh come over here, let me look at that,” said my Auntie Dee, or Auntie Sparkles as my younger sister called her due to her love of fireworks. I think I’m related to pyromaniacs, but that’s fine by me.
“Oh, that doesn’t seem very serious to me,” she assessed with less concern as a mother than a trained nurse.
“It hurts, it hurts,” said Charlie as he waved his arm in the air as though hoping the pain would fly away with the ash.
“Put some ice on it and sit down, it will be fine. I’ve seen much worse,” said Auntie Dee.
“Well,” said my Uncle Mike sarcastically. “In thirty years in an emergency room, you’re bound to see something worse.” True, which is probably why anything less than bone jutting through torn flesh was considered a “minor accident” to my aunt.
Auntie Dee bandaged his arm with the meticulousness of a baker decorating a wedding cake and sat back down to watch the rest of the fireworks display.
Charlie reluctantly grabbed a cold pop, rested it on his bandaged arm and sat down on a bench, a little farther from the fireworks than the rest of us. His nervousness showing through the smile he managed to fake as we questioned his condition.
We all knew he was done with lighting fireworks, at least for the night.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
