Potter, Austen and Bourne

I did nothing today except dwell in the lives of others. I read Harry Potter (finished re-reading book 6 and began book 7), saw Becoming Jane at the movies (Fantastic! I am still sad about it and I want to re-read all the Austen books), and watched The Bourne Supremacy on TV (to prep for my viewing of the 3rd film later this month).

I have to say, it was NICE.

Not that my life is awful or anything. It isn't. In fact, it's been pretty good lately. But since I am in the midst of my longest official summer break since I was in college, I felt like indulging. And today, indulging meant watching others experiences. While eating a rice crispy treat.

Oh, I also bought my crappy books for the next stupid semester. This is something I've been dreading and carefully putting it off until nearly the last minute. I am not ready for it all to begin again. No way.

Wait...I bought my school books this morning...maybe that is why I then chose to spend the rest of the day in worlds that are not my own. Maybe I am trying to ignore my dread about the stress and work that lies ahead. Something about "ignorance being blissful" and denial comes to mind, but I will think about that some other day. Now, I must get back to Mr. Potter.

Spain Photos: Part 2

Here are a few more pictures from Spain (my April trip...I know, I know. This is very late. I blame life).

In case you are interested, Part 1 photos were posted here. I'll post some Maine ones when I'm done with Spain and the cross country trip.

A village in the Picos de Europa where we stopped for lunch.

Just something pretty we saw on the side of the road.


A village in the Picos de Europa



At/around our parador in Congas de Onis (the next three pictures).



A local cat chilling in the Northern Spain sunshine.

The Maine Event

I got back from Maine late Thursday night, and I think it is one of my favorite places in the world. I had a fantastic time and I’ve been obsessed with thoughts of moving there since. Maine is all ocean air, blue skies, pine trees, wild flowers, seashells, butterflies, and lighthouses. There are countless quiet bays and peninsulas to explore. Wild blueberries grow everywhere, so the small back roads are lined with families selling just picked berries. I had one of the best scones of my life (blueberry) from a little coffee shop in town. The seafood, of course, is spectacular as well, and everyone I met was nice. Though I was traveling alone I never once felt lonely. Everywhere I went I met someone who wanted to chat about where I was from, where I was going, and what I had seen. I found the neighborhood I want my parents to retire to, and I found an island I’d like to live on.

Monhegan Island is a 90 minute boat-ride out to sea. It is a small fishing island/art colony with 200 summer and 60 year-round residents. There are no roads on the island and they’re very strict about bringing in things to modernize it. In the little port city, every home is also an artist studio, where paintings and photography and all kinds of crafts are displayed.

I took a hike through a forest out to the eastern-facing cliffs. At 160 feet high they are the highest anywhere on the coast of Maine. It was stunning. I ate lunch while sitting on these cliffs, then wandered my way down to a beach that was covered in seashells. I collected some then accidentally wandered into a field of wild flowers where huge butterflies were floating around on the ocean breezes. Then I hiked up to the lighthouse which had gorgeous views of the island, its port, and a small island across a little bay. Then I walked back into the city, bought some fresh pink lemonade and sat on an Adirondack chair overlooking it all. See? It was all kind of like heaven.

My hotel was a cute, small inn up the road from the harbor. Since I was traveling alone and didn’t have much money to spend on one of the countless gorgeous B&B’s, I stayed in something more modest. It was great though. My room was actually a little cottage with a private deck in back. The deck faced West onto a meadow. At night I sat outside while the sun set and read my book. When the sun went down there were fireflies all over the place. When I went to bed all I heard were crickets.

On my drive out of Maine, I bought some fresh blueberries, had some homemade blueberry ice cream from a little road-side stand run by a kind older woman. I drove through some of Maine’s southern beaches hitting up a few more lighthouses. When it was time to go, it was very hard to cross back in to Massachusetts.

I am itching to go through my photos and post some here. I hope to do so soon, maybe tonight or tomorrow.

My 7-11 Family

There is a 7-11 in the base of my building. And if having a 7-11 right next door weren’t convenient enough, there’s even a private door that lets people from my building go directly into the 7-11 without going outside. I never went to 7-11’s before I lived here. Only because it was never a part of my routine. I think they were all around, but if I needed the kind of thing you can get at a 7-11, I usually got it at a Target or Rite Aid.

When I first moved in, my parents and I went to the 7-11 all the time. They had snacks and water bottles and sometimes, after long days of unpacking even got a quick and fatty dinner. My father also got coffee there in the morning. For a couple of days he talked about how good the coffee was, how there was so much to choose from, how it was cheap and there were even cheaper refills, etc. I classified this as annoying dad talk, nodded, smiled and kept my mind focused on finding a near-by Starbucks. See, I am a coffee snob. I love coffee, and I have very particular tastes about it. It doesn’t have to be expensive, but it has to be “good.” The reason? Because good coffee is my reward. It is my reward for being up each morning and facing the day.

So when my dad said, “The coffee at 7-11 is really good,” I didn’t believe him.

The thing is….he was right. My 7-11 has about 12-15 coffees to choose from every day. They have all my favorites—French Roast, Colombian, Kona, Blue Mountain, etc. They have all kinds of different flavored creams, they offer Splenda (which is splendid!) and they even have different flavored syrups a la the more expensive coffee chains. Plus, it costs me $1.21 for a small cup of coffee, versus $1.75+ for an equivalent Americano experience. Thus, I have yet to go to a Starbucks in the Baltimore area. I’m not even really sure where they are…

In addition to the coffee, I have also come to rely on my 7-11 for the occasional supply of milk, exam-prep nutrition (in the form of Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream), $2 sandwiches when I’m too lazy to make my own, water bottles for guests, chips and salsa when I am too desperate to wait for the suburban trek to Trader Joes, AND sometimes…the latest Life & Style magazine, solely for workout encouragement purposes.

All this is great, but I think the best part about my 7-11 is that I am now officially a regular. I know all the guys who work there. The one who works during the weekday mornings lets me cut the line to pay. Whenever I want. (He knows I’m in a hurry.) Sometimes the manager gives me free coffee or covers the balance of my $1.21 should I not have exact change. Sometimes they put the lid on my drink for me.

On Thursday night, post my final final, I wanted a treat. It was late-ish, it had been a long week and I had been watching TV on my couch. I had my glasses on and I was wearing sweats. My hair was back in a pony tail and surrounded by a halo of frizz due to the torrential rain that fell on my carefully flat-ironed hair earlier that afternoon. AND, I wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course, my big sweatshirt hid that fact, but you get the picture. I was focused on getting my sweet treat and getting out of there. I went over to the baked goods display and was eyeing a cookie when one of the workers I know come up and suggested I get a brownie. He was REALLY trying to talk me into it and even took one out to show me how good it was and “how happy it would make [me].” The other 7-11 guy then came up to tell me I had something in my hair. I tried to find and remove it but couldn’t. He kept trying to direct my hand to where it was. I ended up saying, “You know, it doesn’t matter. I’m just going back up stairs.” He didn’t care. It bothered him enough that he had to come over and remove it himself (it turned out to be a white feather from the throw pillow I had been lying on). Then I went to the counter to pay. The guy at the counter said, “Long time no see.” I laughed and said, “I was here yesterday!” He laughed along with me.

My parents got to know a lot of the people who work in the building and at the 7-11 before they left. My parents are generally friendly and sometimes overly chatty people. I often heard them say things like, “This is my daughter. She just moved here. We’re helping her move in then we’re going back to California. Take care of her for us after we leave!”

I think maybe the 7-11 people really took that to heart.

The Final Final

Tomorrow is my final final. YIPPEE!!!!

In case you can't tell, I'm thrilled this semester is almost over.

To celebrate, I am having Spaghetti-O's for dinner. While some people do not like the S-O's, I genuinely love them. I blame my parents and their Pavlovian conditioning for my love of Mr Boyardee's culinary creations.

Last weekend I was in SF for KM's wedding. I crafted a little blog post while on the plane trying to study. Unfortunately, my S-O's are calling and I only have a 30 min break before I get back to learning about Stage 4 pressure ulcers. Thus, that post will be posted another day. Probably tomorrow after my school peeps and I have our end-of-the-semester mimosa brunch.

One more thing. Here is a quick shout out to VM a new member of our ever-so-cool blogging circle. VM and I went to high school together and we were roommates in college. She also knows the Wombat and the Napper. I'll add her link to this blog tomorrow.